Page 15 of Rescued By the Highland Warrior (Highland Whispers of Love #1)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“ W hat is it?” Roderick asked, hovering over her.

Moira absentmindedly cast her dagger aside, all her attention on the unexpected little hidey-hole they’d just found. The lodge was silent aside from the sounds of their breathing, and she moved her hands slowly beneath the planks, feeling her way around.

“Interestin’,” Moira said, as she grasped hold of three sealed letters. She brought them up for inspection and quickly realized that they all bore the stamp of the laird.

“These letters, I cannae think why they’d be hidden here,” she said thoughtfully as Roderick leaned over to inspect them too.

“An’ they all have me faither’s stamp.”

“Aye,” Moira responded in a softer tone. Noticing the look on Roderick’s face, she knew she had to tread lightly as far as the letters were concerned.

“Here,” she said, “Ye should be the one tae tak’ a look.”

She looked up into his eyes as she passed them to him, and they shared a moment of unspoken communication. She didn’t want him to feel rushed, so she stood up, dusted off her hands, and began to walk toward the fiery hearth.

The wind rattled against the cabin, filling the silence with a low, eerie moan. Moira glanced outside, noticing the cluster of clouds above them, that suddenly erupted in a torrent of rain, sheets of water slashing against the windows.

She paused by the hearth, rubbing her hands together once more, this time as though she was warding off a chill that seemed to seep into the room.

“This is quite a discovery,” Roderick said, as thunder sounded loudly from outside the walls.

Moira glanced over at him from the hearth, noticing how his expression was clouded with confusion and unease. It made her chest tighten, watching him trace his thumb over the stamp of the late laird.

She remained silent and let him have a moment to collect his thoughts.

“They’re sealed tight as though he wouldnae o’ wanted them tae be opened,” he mused.

“The choice is yers, Roderick,” Moira said. “Perhaps ye’d like tae open them somewhere a little more private, an’ I can always leave ye in peace if ye’d like.”

“Nay” he said quickly, his voice firm but with an edge of vulnerability. “There’s nay way that I’d have ye leavin’. But perhaps sittin’ down would be best. ”

She gave a small nod, pushing herself away from the hearth and smoothing her hands over her skirt. “If that’s what ye’d prefer, Roderick.”

He didn’t respond immediately, his gaze lingering on the letters in his hand. Finally, he turned and moved toward the bed, the creak of the floorboards under his boots echoing in the quiet lodge. Moira followed, her steps light, her mind racing with questions she didn’t dare voice.

The flicker of the fire cast a faint glow, giving the space a much more muted and intimate feel.

Roderick sat on the edge of the bed, the letters still in his grip. He stared at them for a long while before setting them down beside him. His shoulders sagged slightly, a pained expression on his face—and Moira couldn’t help but notice how sad he looked. It pierced her heart.

Moira hesitated, unsure whether to step closer or give him space. “Roderick,” she said softly, “are ye certain ye want me here? I’ll stay, but only if it helps ye find peace in this.”

He looked up at her, his eyes filled with a mixture of gratitude and vulnerability. “I’m certain. Yer presence steadies me, Moira. I’d rather face whatever this is with ye close than sit alone wi’ me thoughts.”

His words sent warmth spreading through her chest, but she kept her expression calm. “Then I’ll stay,” she said, taking a seat in the chair by the nightstand.

Having lost her own family, Moira could easily imagine what this moment felt like for him. She understood his hesitation completely.

“Ye must find this frustrating,” he said. “I’ve rushed ye along, and now, I’m the cause o’ delay.”

“It’s nay bother,” she said. “I understand hesitation toward this matter more than most. Though, might I ask, is there any particular cause fer yer worries? Something of which ye are particularly afraid?”

“All that I ken, is that this may be the last time I ever read somethin’ written by me faither. It is almost as though I dinnae want tae start, fer once I’ve read them through, I will have lost him all over again.”

Moira looked at him steadily, unable to contain the emotion that brimmed from her eyes. She knew that he felt strongly toward his father’s death, but most of the feelings that he had exhibited up until now had been of frustration and anger.

She’d never seen the depths of Roderick's pain until that moment.

“There’s nay shame in feelin’ that way,” she said quietly. “But maybe there’s also somethin’ else in there—somethin’ ye dinnae expect. A truth that might ease yer heart instead o’ weighin’ it down.”

“Aye,” Roderick agreed, “ye’re nae wrong.”

After a moment’s silence, he spoke again. “Strangely one of these letters is addressed tae me, and the others are nae addressed to anyone at all.”

“Strange,” Moira agreed, her analytical brain set into motion.

After another moment’s silence, during which Roderick traced the letters with his hands, he finally put them down. Rather than opening them, he gazed back at Moira—his expression shifted, somehow lighter, but still intense.

It made her heart flutter.

The way the Roderick looked at her, he was open and vulnerable, yet still strong. She felt a powerful pull toward him, a thirst that she couldn’t quench, and her face grew hot.

She wasn’t truly sure, although she had an inkling that he was feeling the same way too.

“Ye’re nae goin’ tae read them are ye,” she asked, a flirtatious smile spreading across her lips.

“I will,” he said, smiling a little now too. “Just I cannae get meself tae dae it yet.”

Something about the heat of the moment, spurred Moira to get up from the chair she was sitting in. Perhaps it was a protective instinct that she felt toward Roderick, or a defense mechanism to stop herself from feeling everything she felt.

“There’s nay reason ye have tae read them now,” she said, her focus once again practical, in order to cool her tempestuous mind. “How about we go back tae the castle, the ride will clear yer thoughts. Then, once we’re there, ye can read them.”

An’ whose thoughts is it that need the clearin’? Moira’s mind wondered.

“Wi’ the way the storm is now,” Roderick said. “There’s nae way that we will be headin’ back to the castle tonight.”

Roderick leaned back against the bed, making himself comfortable—and Moira’s gaze flickered over his large body stretched out across the mattress. She noticed how his broad frame seemed to dominate the room, his relaxed posture starkly contrasting with the tension in the air.

Moira peered out of the window that was inches above the bed. She looked out the window, she became aware of the full-blown storm that had broken out. Torrential rain lashed against the windowpane, and the wind howled wildly, rattling the glass.

“I see,” she said, with calculated coolness, moving away from the window. She sat back down on the armchair, her hands resting in her lap as she stared out the window.

Where will I sleep?

Moira thought that perhaps she should survey the place, look for bedding, get herself some water. Anything to keep herself busy.

Her thoughts churned just as violently as the storm outside as she fiddled with the sides of her skirt.

“Is there somethin’ troubling ye?” Roderick asked, standing up as he walked toward her.

“Troublin’ me? Nay. I was just thinkin’ through logistics, whether the lodge might have any other beddin’.”

Moira inhaled sharply, staring up at the laird towering above her. She realized that she had been talking too much in her nervousness. She knew that by doing that she was giving up what little power she had.

He smiled. A simple, calm smile that made her heart melt but did little to ease her thoughts.

“I’m nae sure,” he said. “But ye dinnae need tae worry about that now.”

She nodded.

“Are ye comfortable over here?” He asked, crouching down by her feet. “Ye look as stiff as a board.”

“It is a fine armchair, Roderick,” she said, her throat dry, not daring to move.

“Oh, it is?” He questioned, his eyebrow raised as he lifted himself by the sides of the chair.

As he sat back down on the bed, he wriggled off his boots and removed his jacket—the place much warmer due to the fire in the hearth.

She was relieved for him not to be so close, but at the same time she yearned for him to go back to her.

Her gaze wandered to his broad shoulders, which shifted as he removed his jacket. His movements were languid yet powerful, like a predator who had nothing to prove at all.

“Aye,” Moira said. “Perhaps one o’ the comfiest I’ve felt. Where is it from?”

Roderick laughed, tilting his head to reveal the strong curve of his neck. “Ye have such an eye fer the details, dae ye nae?”

She nodded, responding with stiff acknowledgment but inside, her pulse quickened. The way he laughed, the sound of it deep and rich, seemed to reverberate in the room, making her feel both exposed and drawn in all at once.

“I dae,” she said. “More than ye ken.”

Moira, at the age of twenty-three, was smarter than most, for she’d been trained to have skills most people would never acquire in a whole lifetime. But when it came to being left alone with handsome lairds, she was clueless. She’d never been intimate with anyone before, and she still wasn’t sure, when it came to Roderick, whether that was something only she was thinking about.

The glint in his eyes, and the way he spoke with her seemed to tell her otherwise. But she couldn’t trust it—not for certain. He could have been playing with her for all she knew.

But if there was one thing she was sure of, it was that she liked to win. It was as though Roderick was trying to lure her—to get her to admit something she didn’t want to admit. Most lasses would have easily fallen for his charm, but not her. There was no way she was going to act first.

“Sit here, Moira,” he demanded, patting the space beside him. “I can see ye’re uncomfortable despite what ye say.”

Moira obliged. She knew that refusing would reveal her state of mind even more, or perhaps she welcomed the invitation.

As she slowly went to sit beside him on the bed, she did her best to rein in her thoughts.

“Tell me,” he said. “What else have ye noticed wi’ that big brain o’ yers?”

“About the case?” She responded, her gaze fixed firmly ahead.

Her eyes flickered nervously around the room, her mind racing to find something to say that wouldn’t give away her unease. “I noticed the hearth is much larger than I expected. An’ the bookshelves are plenty fer a huntin’ lodge.”

“Aye, Moira, an’ what else?”

She took in a breath, her gaze sweeping over Roderick, who couldn’t stop smiling, a stark contrast to before.

“I noticed that ye cover up yer vulnerability with anger, an’ that despite yer short words an’ yer frustrations an’ that big menancin’ scar across yer brow, ye’re actually quite soft.”

“Soft,” Roderick laughed. “Och, I was nae expectin’ that.”

“It is nae a bad thing,” Moira said, her voice quieter.

“An’ would ye like tae hear what I’ve noticed about ye?”

“Nae really Roderick,” Moira said leaning toward him despite herself. “But I have a feelin’ yer goin’ tae tell me anyway, so ye may as well go on.”

Roderick’s smile deepened, and for a moment, the room seemed to shrink around them. Moira felt close to giving in, somehow, whatever Roderick was doing was working– she wanted to give up control.

“The reason that ye’re so cold isnae because of years of trainin’ or harsh desensitization. At first, I thought it was, but I see now that it’s nae,” he said carefully.

“What dae ye suppose it is, then, Roderick, if ye ken me so well.”

“It is because,” Roderick said, moving closer, his face inches away from hers. “Ye are afraid. That’s all. Ye’re scared tae be vulnerable, or let anyone in, nae because ye dinnae have the appetite or the emotion fer it, but because ye’re worried that yer goin’ tae get hurt. Ye have too much empathy, and it isnae fit fer yer line of work.”

“That’s enough, Roderick,” Moira demanded, her anger forming a protective shield around her heart.

She got up to leave, standing abruptly as a tear threatened to escape from her eye. She could feel it, the rawness in her chest, the vulnerability she tried so hard to bury.

“Moira,” he said, standing to meet her, his hand wrapped around her arm. “Wait.”

“Ye dinnae ken me as well as ye think,” she said, her eyes avoiding his.

“But I want tae ken ye,” Roderick said, his voice softer now, almost tender. “I want tae understand ye, Moira. An’ nae just the parts ye show the world, but the parts ye hide deep, buried inside.”

Her breath caught in her throat as his words settled over her. She felt his touch, his hand on her arm, warm and steady, and for a fleeting moment, she gave in. She looked up at him with all her walls down.

“Just sit with me a while,” he said. “Of course, ye’re free tae leave, but if the storm out there is better company than me in here, I might take it personally.”

Moira’s lips twitched and she let out a muffled laugh. Roderick guided her back to the bed, the space between them filled with a quiet tension.

“I’m nae good at this,” Moira admitted, her voice quieter now.

As she sat next to Roderick his body more than two times the size of hers—she felt small, almost fragile beside him. It was the first time she’d ever felt so fragile in her life.

“Ye dinnae have tae be good at everything, ye ken.”

The silence was filled by the outside rain, and Roderick brought one hand to her face. Moira’s breath hitched as she took in the gentle sensation of his thumb brushing lightly across her cheek.

“Ye’re the bonniest thing I’ve ever seen,” he said. Moira’s mouth opened slightly, as though she was about to talk—but no words came out.

Roderick kissed her, softly at first, and Moira felt as though her whole body had gone still, as if every part of her was holding its breath.

She felt a fire burning inside her, a deep stirring in her belly, and below, as his soft lips continued to wet hers.

But then he pulled back, his eyes sharpening. “I apologize, I didnae mean tae impose.”

“Dinnae apologize,” she said, reaching for his face, overcome with a strength of desire she had never let herself feel before. “I didnae ask ye tae stop.”