Page 17 of Rescued By the Highland Warrior (Highland Whispers of Love #1)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

M oira’s eyes fluttered open and for a moment she forgot where she was.

The sunlight’s warm glow streamed in through the window by the bed, and Moira sat up to look sleepily upon a clear blue sky.

She blinked the sleep from her eyes, stretching her limbs as her mind did its best to catch up.

Where am I, and why am I so relaxed?

Then she remembered—the wind howling against the lodge, the pellets of thrashing rain, and Roderick. His lips had been on hers, his mouth and hands exploring her body in ways that had her screaming.

Had it all been a dream?

No . It happened. She remembered it vividly—all of it.

Everything that her body had been urging for had finally happened—she had been intimate with Roderick, let down her walls for him, and he had given her the kind of passion she had never dared to let herself imagine possible for someone like her.

She told herself that she should have been thinking about what it might mean going forward, how unprofessional and complicated it all could get. But for some reason, she didn’t care.

She smiled as she pulled the blanket tighter around her body. She still felt his lips on her, the parts where he had touched tingling with new life—and she couldn’t hold back a strange fuzzy feeling that traveled through each part of her body, filling her with an unexpected warmth.

All of this was new to her. She felt like a different woman, one who was perhaps on her way to being a little less cold.

Moira moved her hand gently to the space beside her. It was empty and she realized with dread that Roderick was gone.

Her body responded in a way that was completely beyond her control, an all-consuming sadness washing over her. She scolded herself for it. The last thing she wanted was to become one of those lasses who turn needy just because they’d been intimate with someone once.

She refused to become like that.

And yet, something took flight in her stomach when she heard his footsteps returning. As though each step brought a sense of relief she hadn’t realized she needed—a lifeline of sorts.

Moira quickly smoothed her hair, schooling her expression into one of casual ease, as though she hadn’t just been deep in thought.

Pathetic , she told herself. But still, as the sounds of his footsteps came closer, her stomach turned both fuzzy and warm.

“Roderick,” she said, turning slightly and watching as he stepped through the doorway. His presence filled the room with an ease that both comforted and unsettled her. She felt close to him now those full lips had been on hers, those hands had explored her body.

But then again, there she was—naked in bed and there he was—fully dressed, with an unreadable expression etched across his face.

“Ye should have woken me,” Moira said softly, “I didnae realize that ye were already up.”

“Ye said ye hadn’t been sleepin’ well so I wanted tae let ye rest.” he said coolly.

“That is very kind of ye,” she smiled, outstretching her arms. “Dae ye want somethin’ tae eat? I was thinkin’ we could–”

“We should be gettin’ back to the castle,” he said coldly. “I think it’s time now that the storm has cleared.”

“Aye,” Moira said, doing her best to keep her expression neutral, though her heart sank at the abrupt tone in his voice.

The warmth that had filled her just moments ago, the lingering traces of last night’s passion, all seemed to vanish into the cold distance between them.

She forced a small nod, gathering the blanket tighter around herself. “Aye, ye’re right. We should get goin’.”

As she looked around for her things, her gaze flickered to the nightstand where the letters had once been.

They are gone.

Suddenly his abruptness made sense. At least partially, although she wanted to know more.

“Did ye read them?” she said, her eyes locked on the place that had once been occupied by the letters.

Roderick remained silent, his jaw tightening as he shifted on his feet. That hesitation, that flicker in his gaze, told her everything.

Moira’s breath caught sharply. “Ye did read them, didnae ye? What did they say?” she asked, her words lingering in the air.

Roderick exhaled sharply, running a hand across his face. “They’re nae relevant tae the case, so there’s naething tae tell.”

While Moira respected his privacy, the lingering coldness in his tone sent a shiver through her. He was shutting her out, building walls where there had been absolutely none the night before. The contrast was stark, difficult to digest—but Moira knew that whatever it was, it was one hundred percent related to what was in those letters.

She knew better than to pry, or to force it out of him–so instead she decided to meet him at his level, a trick she had practiced many times before.

“Aye,” she said. “Very well then. At least we tried.”

“We really should be heading out,” Roderick continued, his face devoid of emotion. “I have business tae attend tae back at the castle.”

“Aye,” Moira responded. “We’ll leave right away, let me just get meself together.”

He nodded before promptly heading toward the door.

“Roderick,” she said, his name involuntarily escaping her lips.

He stopped in his tracks.

“Aye, Moira?”

She hesitated, unable to find the words she wanted to say.

“Naething,” she sighed. “Just mak’ sure the horses are ready,” she said, her voice steady, though the words felt strange on her tongue.

Roderick gave a curt nod, his gaze flickering briefly over her before he turned and walked out of the room.

Once he was gone, Moira gathered her things in haste. It wasn’t usually difficult for her to push past her emotions, but this time it was different, she had never experienced anything like last night before. No one had ever touched her like that.

She dressed quickly, freshening herself up before heading outside to meet Roderick, where the sun felt like a cruel joke. The brightness felt wrong against the heaviness in her heart that she would never admit to.

He turned to look as she came up behind him, though he showed no signs of seeing her at all. He was ghostlike, and Moira pretended that she didn’t care, smiling falsely.

“Ye ready?” She asked.

“Aye,” he said, “I’ll just go lock up.”

Once Roderick locked up the cabin and placed the key back where he had found it, he mounted his horse without another word. Moira followed suit, her mind continuously drifting to the night before no matter how much she tried to focus on the path ahead.

She remembered with bitter clarity the words she said to him before they fell asleep. Promise me ye willnae forget this moment.

Moira knew that he couldn't have forgotten, but he was acting differently. Too differently . Something had changed to make him so cold, and she knew, even though he wasn’t admitting it, that it was those letters.

Unless he was both cruel and a liar, which she knew he was not. Still, even knowing that didn’t stop the pain that came with feeling completely rejected after she had just opened herself up for the first time in her life and given him her most precious gift.

As her horse galloped on behind Roderick’s, the birds chirped cheerfully in the trees and the sun beat down on them both. The frost looked beautiful, as did the glistening remnants of the storm, but Moira felt none of its beauty. It was as if the world had decided to mock her—shining so brightly while a cold, hollow feeling settled deep in her chest.

She wished the storm was still there instead. But she kept her gaze ahead, watching Roderick’s broad back as he rode in silence. He never turned, never slowed—he appeared indifferent, unlike his behavior from the day before.

While Roderick rode, his thoughts tormented him. He felt terrible for how he had been treating Moira all morning and he could see the hurt in her eyes, although she was feigning indifference, and it was nearly killing him. The previous night had been incredible, he had felt things for Moira he had never experienced before for any other woman, but he had to seriously consider his father’s words and give his last wishes a possibility. As laird, he had to stop thinking about his own heart’s desire and focus on what was best for his clan.

Suddenly, Roderick’s horse shifted beneath him, its ears flicking back, and he could hear the faint sound of Moira’s mare snorting—a sound of unease. His senses sharpened, and he glanced over his shoulder just in time to see her horse stumble slightly, its hooves slipping, almost unseating Moira.

Instantly he turned around, heading toward her, and jumped down from his horse.

But before he could reach her, Moira had managed to grip her reins tightly, and she regained her balance, her expression calm and her posture composed.

Roderick watched her take in a breath as she steadied herself, before stepping down from her horse.

“Moira,” he called, rushing toward her. “Are ye all right?”

She waved him off with a small smile, though there was a flicker of something in her eyes that suggested the moment had shaken her more than she let on. "I’m fine. Nay harm done.”

“Are ye sure?” He asked, inspecting her with cautious eyes.

Moira nodded, though her gaze was already scanning the ground. Roderick noticed her eyes sharpen and fix on something a few paces away from her horse’s back hooves. She got out of the saddle and knelt down to examine something in the grass, and Roderick edged closer to get a better look.

His body tensed as he saw what she was looking at—an arrow. It was partially buried in the icy grass, its feathered end glinting faintly in the light.

“An arrow?” Moira muttered, her voice tinged with both surprise and a hint of wariness. As she stood up, she inspected it carefully, her face creased with confusion—she eventually sighed, shrugging her shoulders.

“Let me have a look,” Roderick said quickly.

Moira handed him the arrow and Roderick proceeded to examine the arrow carefully, frowning as he ran his thumb along the smooth, well-crafted shaft.

In an instant his stomach dropped. “I cannae believe it,” he finally said.

“What?” She asked.

Malcolm.

Roderick shook his head. “This arrow has come from Malcolm’s estate, I recognize the markings.”

“Are ye sure?”

“Aye,” he said. “I’ve seen them and used them during me many stays at his estate.”

For some reason, Moira didn’t look as shocked as Roderick felt. She shrugged it off lightly, “Perhaps it was a mistake.”

“An’ arrow headed right fer ye was a mistake?” He questioned.

“I dinnae ken,” Moira joked, “perhaps he was just tryin’ tae free ye up fer his daughter.”

“That isnae funny,” Roderick responded sharply. His eyes narrowed as he turned over the arrow once more. “This is serious, Moira. Ye could’ve been hurt—or worse.”

Roderick knew that Malcolm seemed cold and selfish, and that he was disappointed Roderick was not betrothed to his daughter—but one of his councilmen intending to kill his betrothed was completely unheard of. He couldn’t wrap his head around something like that, and if it was deliberate the implications would be grave indeed.

“Listen,” Moira said. “I’m fine, naethin’ happened. We have other things tae worry about aside from Malcolm’s temper.”

Roderick shot her a sharp look, his jaw tightening. “Alright. But ye’re goin’ tae ride ahead of me so that I can see ye. It will be straight on fer a while until I tell ye tae turn.”

“Fine,” Moira said calmly, getting back on her horse with practiced ease. She adjusted her cloak, casting a quick glance over her shoulder at Roderick.

With a flick of her reins, Moira urged her horse forward, the sound of hooves crunching against the frost-covered ground filling the air. Both of them could not help looking around constantly, wary of any strange noise or movement.

Once they reached the castle, Moira followed Roderick to the stables, where they dismounted in silence.

The stable hands came to take their horses, and Roderick thanked them, barely acknowledging Moira’s presence. He moved with the same distant efficiency, his jaw set and his shoulders stiff, as he headed toward the stable doors.

“I need tae get tae me study,” he said without looking at her. “There’s much tae be done.”

Moira nodded, even though he wasn’t looking at her. “Aye,” she said, “Of course.”

Once Roderick left, she decided that she’d need to keep herself busy. Of course, she could go over everything in her mind once more—perhaps snoop around the castle for clues, but as unprofessional as it sounded, she found herself unwilling to engage in anything that would remind her of him.

She felt as though she needed distraction—one that could only come from the comfort of a friend. Moira moved through the castle with purpose and asked a nearby maid where Arabella’s bedroom was.

The maid, a young woman with rosy cheeks and a knowing glint in her eye, smiled as she pointed down the corridor. “Miss Barclay’s chambers are just at the end o’ the hall, second door on the left.”

Moira thanked her before making her way toward the room, her steps both slow and determined, as her mind distractedly wandered. She wasn’t really present until she spotted something out of the corner of her eye.

Her stomach dropped.

She saw Malcolm walking slowly in her direction from a conjoining hall with an elderly-looking gentleman, one who she immediately recognized as Mr. Lennox. He had a slight limp to his step, his whole demeanor both sour and aged.

For a second, she panicked, her heart beating furiously in her chest. But she continued walking, this time more quickly toward Arabella’s room.

Malcolm didn’t sit right with her, especially after the arrow from his estate that had nearly thrown her off her horse.

It wasn’t that she feared him, so much as she felt a sense of general unease. A gnawing suspicion that she couldn’t shake. In the past she would have trusted her instinct, but her feelings were all over the place when it came to this case. She needed to straighten her thoughts out.

As she reached Arabella’s door, she took in a steadying breath, knocking.

“Come in!” Arabella’s cheerful voice called from the other side. Moira entered, shaking off the lingering tension from her brief encounter in the hall.

She found Arabella sitting on a ledge by a nearby window, buried deep in a book. She looked up, and as she saw Moira, and smiled warmly.

“Moira,” she said, settling her book down onto the ledge. “I didnae realize it was ye, come in, please!”

Moira closed the door behind her as she walked further into Arabella’s grand bedroom. “I hope I’m nae disturbin’ ye.”

“Ye’re nae disturbin’ me at all,” she beamed. “Come sit down, I’ll have the maids mak’ us some tea.”

Moira smiled gratefully, her tension easing slightly as she moved to take a seat in one of the plush armchairs next to the low table in the center of the room.

“I’ll nae turn down a cup o’ tea,” she said, settling into the chair and relaxing her shoulders for the first time that day.

Arabella gave her a mischievous smile before leaving the room to call for the maids. As she came back in, she settled into the armchair across from Moira with a relaxed sigh.

“How have ye been, friend?” she asked her, her eyes twinkling with a mix of curiosity and concern.

“Nae too terrible, a little busy. I’ll be glad tae be takin’ me time today,” Moira said as convincingly as possible. “An’ ye, Arabella? What have ye been up tae?”

Arabella batted her hand. “Aye borin’ as usual,” she said with a playful roll of her eyes. “Naething’s new with me, that’s why I’d like tae hear about ye! How are things wi’ Laird Fraser? I’m sure yer just brimmin’ wi’ excitement ahead of yer betrothal, I ken I’d be.”

Moira didn’t want to talk about Roderick, but had known, of course, that he’d come up. Before she could speak they were interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Come in,” Arabella called.

Moira was glad to see that it was a couple of maids entering the bedroom with their tea. Both Arabella and Moira thanked them as they set down a large pot with a selection of cups and plates filled with delicate pastries. The maids placed everything on the low table between them, a sweet scent filling the air.

As they left, Arabella poured the tea pot, smiling to Moira as she handed her a cup. “Aye, I’m glad tae see ye enjoy yer tea as much as I dae.’

Moira accepted it gratefully, savoring its warmth between her hands.

“So,” Arabella continued, “The laird. Tell me everythin’, leave nothin’ behind, I want details.”

Moira smiled and told Arabella a well-crafted version of their ride out to the hunting lodge, obviously leaving out any details about the arrow incident. After speaking for a few minutes she put down her tea cup and turned to her new friend.

“Enough about me,” she said, forcing a smile and waving a dismissive hand. “Please tell me what’s new wi’ ye. What have ye been daein’ the past few days? I’m dyin’ tae hear about somethin’ other than meself.”

Arabella arched a delicate brow, clearly unimpressed by Moira’s attempt to change the subject. She set her teacup down with a soft clink, then folded her hands in her lap, her expression unreadable.

“Well,” she finally said. “I did hear a rumor floatin’ through the castle o’ particular interest recently.”

“Aye,” Moira asked expectantly. “An’ what would that be?”

Arabella leaned in close, her tone hushed as though the walls were listening. “I heard that Mr. McDougall has called fer his daughter tae come tae the castle. Strange timin’ right? Why now?”

Moira nodded thoughtfully, thinking back to the arrow.

“I doubt that it is true,” Arabella said quickly. “Ye cannae really trust everythin’ ye hear, but still, interestin’ nonetheless.”

Moira raised her cup to her lips thoughtfully and took a small sip, her gaze wandering from the cup’s edge to the far window.

“See I told ye,” Arabella joked. “I really dinnae have anythin’ tae share.”

“Nay,” Moira said thoughtfully. “That isnae true at all.”