Page 13 of Rescued By the Highland Warrior (Highland Whispers of Love #1)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

M oira’s heart raced, as she looked up at Roderick, who was breathing heavily, a deep cut running down his left cheek. She had tried to stay where she was as Roderick had commanded, but when she had heard all the noise coming from down the hall, she couldn’t just stand and listen.

She had to help.

What if something had happened to him? It had been Moira’s idea to go down the passageways in the first place, and she couldn’t have lived with herself if something happened to Roderick.

Rather than answering his question, she reached out a hand and brought it to his cheek. She wiped the blood away, and her fingers lingering there for a moment, gentle against his skin.

He was brave, she knew that, but the way he looked at her, as though he were a wounded warrior, pierced her soul.

His skin felt hot beneath her fingertips. She should have moved away, she was lingering for too long. But she couldn’t, she felt something like a lightning current from where their skins touched all the way up her arm, to her chest.

Something felt too desperate inside her, too good.

His eyes softened, and he nestled his face on her soft, soothing hand.

“Moira…” he murmured, his voice rough, but there was a softness there, one that matched her own.

“We should get out o’ here,” she said, regaining herself, before he had a chance to speak. “This cut needs tae be cleaned up.”

“Aye,” he said. “It is nae safe. Let us go tae me chambers, I ken the way from here, it is just down the passageway tae the right.”

Moira nodded, reluctantly, removing her hand from his wounded skin.

She followed him through the halls, this time walking by his side as they moved in silence.

The air between them had changed.

She found herself moving closer to him than before, so that their bodies were practically touching as they walked.

Roderick led her around another bend, and they emerged into an even wider space, a stark contrast to the cramped passages. The stone walls here were smooth and more finely finished. The final stretch of the tunnel led to a small, ornate wooden door.

“This is it,” Roderick said.

But neither of them moved. They stood side by side in silence, opposite the door.

Roderick turned to face her, his gaze studying her with a look she’d never seen in his eyes before. With her mouth slightly open, she gazed up at him transfixed, not daring to speak.

The passageways were cloaked in shadows, and Moira felt hidden there, as though whatever happened would hold little weight to the rest of the world. She didn’t move. She didn’t speak. She followed Roderick’s lead.

Her heart rate quickened as he leaned slowly towards her and brought his lips to hover over her own, making her chest burn with deep desperation.

She fluttered her eyes closed, her lips parting as he finally brushed his mouth against hers. One touch was all it took for him to claim her with a kiss, which started soft but increased in passion, setting Moira’s body alight.

She leaned into him, kissing him back, no longer cold, no longer restrained, as a violent storm brewed inside her.

Before long, they came to a stop. Their breaths intermingling softly, foreheads touching, as they calmed down.

She opened her eyes, her hands on his chest, and noticed his expression—it was pained, devastatingly so.

“We should get out o’ here,” he finally said. “It is nae safe.”

She nodded, her body grown suddenly cold and lifeless as he released her from his grip.

He pulled the wooden door open with a creak, and Moira sighed a breath of both disappointment and relief as they stepped into Roderick’s chambers.

As Roderick pulled a lever on the wall behind them, a large painting of the highland hills swung forward, seamlessly concealing the entrance of the hidden door, which she heard him locking. It seemed like a very sound idea, given someone was roaming through the castle using the secret passageways. But Moira could think of nothing other than the tingle that still gently stung her lips.

The main chamber was ornate, similar to the grandeur of the study, adorned in crimson and gold. The bed, large and imposing, was dressed in deep red fabrics, contrasting with the light grey of the stone walls.

“Ye should lie down,” Moira said, her gaze sweeping over the bed. “I’ll just need some cloth an’ water tae get ye cleaned up.”

“Ye can get those from the bathing chamber,” he said, kicking off his boots. “But ye dinnae have tae…”

“I ken,” Moira responded quickly. “But I’d like tae. An’ besides we need tae discuss whatever it is that just happened.”

Roderick paused for a moment, looking at Moira with a quiet intensity that was hard to read.

“I’ll be back in a moment,” she added, with a final nod. With purpose, she turned toward the door that led to a small adjoining room.

Once Moira gathered all the necessary tools, she made her way back into the main chamber. She held a tray with a bowl of water, that she then placed to warm by the fire, and a cloth at her hip, and momentarily faltered in her stride as she took in the sight before her.

Roderick, laying back on his bed.

She couldn’t help but notice how vulnerable he looked, like a large animal—powerful, yet wounded.

There was something about the way he lifted his head to look back at her, along with the warmth of the fire, a cozy contrast to their previous surroundings, that made Moira’s stomach flutter. He looked so… she couldn’t find the words, but it drew her in, and made her feel somehow, both grounded and light.

“May I? Moira asked, gesturing toward the bed as she settled the tray onto the nightstand.

“Aye,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, as he shifted slightly, making room for her beside him.

Moira dipped the cloth into the warm water, the sloshing filling the silence in the room as she brought it to his face. As soon as she did, he winced in pain, wrapping one hand around her wrist.

She jumped slightly, her eyes widening.

“I’m just playin’ with ye,” Roderick chuckled, his eyes closed and his jaw tightened as he leaned his head back against the headboard. Slowly he released his hand from her wrist with a wry smile.

Under usual circumstances, Moira would have scolded him or been frustrated enough to demand he clean himself up. But she felt still felt the lingering tenderness of their kiss.

There was undeniably something about him that stirred a feeling within her and had her yearning for more. But that desire was one which she buried deep. Roderick had appeared almost regretful in the passageway, and in truth, she was here with a purpose, not really his betrothed. In fact, they had no business pushing the limits of what was supposed to be a professional relationship. She had just let herself get caught up in the moment.

Perhaps, she thought to herself, he regretted it all.

“I’m glad tae see ye have energy, Roderick,” she said wryly, shaking her head as she dabbed at his wound. “Perhaps ye can tell me about yer fight.”

“Aye,” he said, his smile softening. “Unfortunately, I couldnae see who the figure was. It was too dark and that worked to their advantage. I managed to stab the traitor’s leg with me dagger but it didnae dae much—they still managed to escape.”

“Could ye see where they went?”

“Nae, unfortunately, I dinnae ken the passages as well as I should, and they managed to slink away—they could be anywhere by now.”

“Hmm,” Moira said thoughtfully, trying to focus on her role of investigator, plus she was genuinely intrigued about who the figure might have been.

But she was completely and utterly distracted. Roderick had just kissed her, and now she was on his bed, tending to him and much closer to him than she should have been after all that.

He looked like a warrior, and he was so bonnie that it made her heart swell.

“An’ dae ye have any idea about who that figure might have been?” She asked, reminding herself to stay focused.

“Nae,” he said. “The passageways are supposed tae be secret, hidden fer our safety, so that instances like these could be avoided.”

“Clearly,” Moira said, letting out a breath. “They are nae as secret as ye thought.”

Moira continued cleaning up his wound, squeezing the excess water from the cloth before reaching for a fresh one. She glanced up at Roderick, her lips pressed together in thought.

“There is somethin’ strange goin’ on here, I’ll give ye that.”

“An’ dae ye still nae think that this case points to murder? It all feels too suspicious, daes it nae?”

Moira let out a slow breath, her instincts urging her to place a reassuring hand on his arm. But she ignored them. She couldn’t make sense of why she felt so drawn to him, but as was her way, anytime she felt too close to someone, she would start feeling vulnerable and would need to pull herself back.

“I cannae say fer certain Roderick, but,” she conceded, “there is some evidence that points tae murder. I’ll give ye that.”

“Aye,” he said. “Ye have given me a lot tonight Moira, I thank ye kindly.”

Moira raised an eyebrow, scanning his face. “Are ye jokin’ with me again?”

“Nae,” he smiled. “I mean it, thank ye fer takin’ care o’ me, I’m much like ye in the sense that I dislike being taken care o’. But I need it, often at times more than I ken.”

Moira’s cheeks flushed warm. She yearned to lean toward him, to kiss him again—anything to cool the fire that burned within her–but she stopped herself. There were already too many things she regretted.

“Ye’re welcome,” she said, clearing her throat. “Ye help me, I help ye—even if I have tae worry ye with a fake ailment.”

“Listen, about afore...”

“Nae need tae discuss it,” Moira said. “Let’s just focus on solving this case.”

“An’ what will ye dae after ye solve it?” Roderick asked after a moment’s silence. “What is next fer ye?”

She felt his gaze on her as she thought about the question. Of course, she knew the answer, but for the past few days she hadn’t been thinking as far as what would happen after she left Castle Fraser. She’d been so caught up with the Roderick and her inconvenient emotions, that she barely had enough time to think about the case she was there to solve.

“Well, I will return tae the Triad, and then I’ll wait there fer me next assignment,” Moira said plainly.

She watched as Roderick’s expression shifted, it was as though he was deep in thought—his mind someplace else. Moira couldn’t make sense of it. Then, his gaze dropped.

When he finally looked back at Moira, he did so with what Moira detected as a hint of vulnerability. Her chest tightened as his eyes searched hers.

“An’ are ye lookin’ forward tae that?”

Moira hesitated, caught off guard by the question and the way he asked it—softly, yet with an undercurrent of meaning she couldn’t quite place. She straightened her posture, as though that might shield her from the vulnerability in his gaze.

No one had ever asked her if she was looking forward to a mission before, how she felt was irrelevant, or at least it was supposed to be.

“The key tae a good mission,” Moira said, “is tae always be lookin’ forward tae it.”

Roderick tilted his head, his expression unreadable but his eyes keen. "That sounds more like survival than livin’, Moira."

Her lips tightened into a thin line, the weight of his words settling heavily in her chest. "It’s the way things are," she replied, “I dinnae have the luxury of livin’ like ye folk dae, although, I must admit I’m nae looking forward tae this mission endin’.”

“Ye’re nae?”

With Roderick so close, she felt the need to be honest with him and with herself. It was dangerous, but she couldn’t stop herself. She wasn’t looking forward to this mission ending, but why? She decided that it was due to a multitude of reasons, and not all of them had to be shared.

“Nay. This place, the nature, is so beautiful. And I like the castle and all the people that live here… I feel like I have started to make some friends… I dinnae ken where I’ll end up next,” Moira said, her face upturning into a smile. “An’ who kens, maybe I’ll be paired up in another fake betrothal with a laird far worse than ye.”

“Och,” Roderick smiled. “An’ there I was thinkin’ that I may be the worst of them all.”

Moira couldn't help the soft laugh that escaped her. "Ye’re certainly nae the worst, Roderick," she said, her tone lighter now. "Though ye might come close when ye’re being particularly infuriatin’."

“Aye,” he said. “So why leave after this mission? Why leave yer fate up tae chance?”

It was difficult for her to speak about these things, and she looked away, pretending to study the flames licking at the logs in the hearth.

“Ye dinnae need tae answer if ye dinnae want,” Roderick said.

“Nae, it’s fine,” Moira responded tightening her hand around the edge of her shawl. “The thing wi’ the Triad is that ye cannae just leave, nae before yer contract is over. They spend plenty o’ time and resources on trainin’ ye.”

“So ye’re stuck?” He asked her, his face etched with concern.

“Nay,” Moira responded. “It’s nae like that. The Triad are me family, they have a system that works, and I understand why after everythin’ they dae fer people, it would be imperative tae stay. They usually start training when us when we’re around twelve years old—an’ then when we’re around sixteen, we may accompany other member’s missions as an apprentice.”

“Aye, that’s how I met ye, wasnae it, when ye were just an apprentice.”

“Yes, an’ what a fine apprentice I was,” Moira said cheerfully, tending once again to his cut.

“Nae from where I was standin’.”

“I told ye before, I could have made it out without ye,” Moira retorted rolling her eyes. “But good fer ye, ye saved me and managed tae get me here tae help ye.”

“I’m honored, Moira,” he joked.

After a few beats of silence, his face straightened, and he repositioned himself slightly, seemingly ready to ask her more questions.

“How hard are these missions that ye go on?”

“They’re as hard as they have to be,” she said stoically, but couldn’t control the darkness in her eyes. Moira saw that Roderick noticed it, and his expression practically begged her to explain more.

“Nae everyone survives the missions,” she added. “That is the cruel reality o’ our world. But the Triad has trained us well, an’ they rightly expect us to be in their service fer the same amount o’ years they have trained us fer. That is why I am still indebted tae them now.”

“And how dae ye feel about it?”

Roderick’s questions were becoming too many. She didn’t want to think about how working for the Triad made her feel, she just knew that whatever she was feeling, she was supposed to not feel it. She was supposed to suppress it somehow.

“Enough questions,” Moira said, feigning a smile. “How’s yer cut feelin’, better?”

“Aye, better” he nodded. “Thank ye.”

Moira nodded, relieved by the shift in focus. “Good. Ye’ll need tae keep it clean if ye dinnae want it infected.”

Roderick smirked, leaning back slightly. “Ye’re quite skilled at patchin’ folk up. Is that something the Triad taught ye, or did ye pick it up yerself?”

She shrugged. “A bit o’ both. When ye spend years surrounded by danger, ye learn tae stitch a wound or two. It’s either that or watch someone bleed out.”

“Impressive,” Roderick said, his smile sending a shiver down her spine. She liked it when he found her impressive, in fact she probably enjoyed it a little too much.

Roderick’s gaze lingered on her, his smirk fading into something quieter, something that sent her pulse racing. She knew she shouldn’t be thinking about him the way she did, but deep down, something pulled her toward him—an urge she couldn’t quite silence. She still recalled the taste of him, and she wanted more.

Moira swallowed, forcing herself to break eye contact as she wrung out the cloth with more force than necessary. She dusted off her hands as she looked around the room.

“Now,” she said. “Solvin’ this case. How about we retrace yer faither’s steps? It will be wise tae follow his journey during the huntin’ trip, perhaps there is somethin’ tae discover there.”

Roderick nodded, thoughtfully.

“Of course, in an ideal world we’d be able tae find out who that figure was in the passageway. But that’ll tak’ more time, which I ken well is o’ the essence, so the huntin’ trip will be a good place tae start.”

“The only problem is,” Roderick said. “I dinnae ken where me faither went huntin’ exactly. So, it may be a little difficult tae retrace his steps.”

“Is there anythin’ ye might remember about his usual huntin’ trips, anythin’ he told ye when ye were a bairn, perhaps?”

“We dae have a huntin’ lodge,” he said. “Me faither didnae usually stay there when huntin’, but he did go when he wanted a little peace an’ quiet.”

“Perfect,” Moira replied, standing up from the bed. “Then that is exactly where we should go.”

“We’ll leave first thing in the mornin’.”

Moira nodded, standing there for a moment, for some reason reluctant to leave. Something felt good about the time she had spent with the Roderick in his chambers, a little too good. Now her walls were down, in the warm sanctuary of his bedroom, it was difficult for her to put on her mask and leave.

“Is there anythin’ else I can get fer ye Roderick?” She asked.

“Nay, thank ye. I’d urge ye tae get some rest.”

High chance of that, Moira thought.

"Aye, I’ll try.”

“Good night, Moira.”

“Goodnight,” she said, turning away despite her body urging her to stay.

As she made her way to her own chamber, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was changing. Something she couldn’t ignore.