Page 2 of Rescued By the Highland Warrior (Highland Whispers of Love #1)
CHAPTER TWO
1 708, Dornoch
The narrow cul-de-sac was in a secluded and forgotten part of town, far from the nearest streetlamp.
A salty breeze swept through the air, stinging the sides of Roderick’s face, as he stood facing the woman concealed by her long black cloak. Her hood was pulled so low over her face, that Roderick could barely make out her features.
He narrowed his eyes, his thoughts racing. Who was this mysterious woman? Why had she been tied up in that cellar, left to her fate?
“Here,” she said in a tone so soft that it was barely louder than a whisper, extending her hand.
Roderick frowned as he stared at the small golden coin in her outstretched palm. The coin, although barely visible in the darkness of the night, shone with a slight gleam.
Carefully, he took it, his fingers momentarily brushing hers.
As he turned the coin over, inspecting it as thoroughly as he could, Roderick noticed strange markings on its surface: three circles arranged in a perfect triangle.
His eyes darted to hers, sharp with suspicion. “What is this?”
She glanced over her shoulder, scanning the shadows behind her as though expecting someone to emerge. Once satisfied that they were alone, she turned back to Roderick and continued.
“Ye rescued me, and now I owe ye a favor. The Triad,” she said, her voice extra hushed, “will be there whenever and wherever ye need it.”
Roderick hesitated. “I dinnae understand. The ‘Triad’?”
The woman sighed, trying not to reveal too much. “If ye encounter a problem that appears tae be impossible tae solve, the Triad can help ye. This is a secret, reveal it tae anyone and the favor is revoked.”
Roderick nodded slowly, still confused by the words coming from the mysterious lady he had just rescued.
“If ye need help, ye can send a letter here,” she slipped a small piece of parchment into his hand, her eyes narrowing, her tone steady but urgent. “Use this coin tae stamp it.”
Roderick opened his mouth to speak, but she glanced behind her again, ensuring they were still alone before continuing. “There should be absolutely nay information in yer letter that could expose us. If ye dae, it’ll be considered a breach of contract, and we willnae be able tae help ye.”
“I understand.”
“Nay one aside from yerself should have any information whatsoever about the mission ye have called us fer, nay information on why ye have reached out. If ye reach out tae us, it must be under those terms.”
“Are there any limitations?” Roderick asked quickly, conscious that their time was limited. “What if I ask fer too much?”
The air went still, and her face grew somber. “Just hope ye never have tae use the coin, fer yer own good.”
Roderick nodded, tucking the coin and parchment into his pocket.
“I hope,” she said, her voice thick with gravity “that I won't ever have tae see ye again.
Without another word, Moira turned and vanished into the night, her cloak dissolving into the darkness like smoke.
Roderick stood still for a moment, his hand slipping into his pocket once more, and turning the cool coin between his fingers, he quietly reflected on the mysterious gift he’d just received. Roderick didn’t understand much, but he knew better than to breathe another word of what he’d been told.
All that Roderick recalled of Moira from the night they’d met was her hooded cloak, her face half hidden beneath the darkness of the night. But her eyes—he had noticed them even then—were just as piercing.
Now, as she stood before him, her posture straight, her chin slightly raised, Roderick tried to understand what she might be thinking. All those years ago, her presence had left him bewildered. But this time, her expression was cold, a mask of indifference that betrayed nothing.
Time, it seemed, had not softened her. If anything, it had sharpened her into something else. Something impenetrable.
He thought back to when he first wrote the letter to her. Ever since his father’s death he had been convinced that it wasn’t the mere accident that had been reported. He knew his father better than anyone, and he needed answers—not just for his own closure but for reasons he knew to be critical. Roderick had never been one to simply accept what he was told; there was something in him that always guided him toward the truth.
Moira’s lips twitched, but she didn’t speak. Instead, her silence stretched taut between them, thick as the tension in the room. It was Roderick who broke it again.
"When the doctor said it was possible me faither might have eaten something bad on the road," he began, his tone hardening as he stepped even closer, "I kenned there was more tae the story."
Her gaze didn’t waver, but the subtle tightening of her jaw betrayed her intrigue, Roderick noticed, perhaps more than Moira thought.
“That’s why,” he continued, his tone hardening, “I kenned that there was only one solution. I had tae send fer ye and collect the favor ye owed me. I needed the Triad’s help.”
Roderick noticed her body flinch, though her face remained the same.
“It is nae small thing that ye have done,” Moira said, inclining her head ever so slightly. Her words came out as coldly as her expression.
“I’m aware,” Roderick replied curtly, turning away from Moira and toward the fireplace. “But me faither’s death is nae small thing either.”
He rested one hand on the stone mantle, staring into the flickering flames. There was something distracting about Moira—be it her mysterious manner or her graceful demeanor. He decided that it was best for him to focus on the matter at hand.
“Since we last met,” he began, his voice steady, “I’ve done some research about yer... Triad.”
“And what have ye found?” She asked, her voice steady, betraying no sign of concern.
“It took time,” he replied. “Ye didnae exactly leave me with much tae go on. But eventually, in these five years since we met, I managed tae piece it together. The Triad—a secretive organization of investigators. Mystical, some call them. They’re hardly kent, even among the upper class. And they only take cases that interest them. Unless…” he paused
“Unless what?” replied Moira.
“Unless there is a favor involved,” he replied.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her lips tighten into a thin line, but she remained silent.
“I understand the need fer secrecy, and I understand the weight of what I’ve done by calling ye here, but we both remember the night ye gave me the Triad’s coin, and why ye did it.”
“Aye,” Moira said, her composure faltering, if only slightly, for just a moment. A brief crack in her mask, her apparent stoicism betrayed by a tiny expression of frustration, alongside, Roderick noticed, a subtle hint of regret.
He had anticipated that bringing up that night might alter her composure, for it seemed as though she had been trying to pretend it had never happened at all.
“At the time,’” Moira continued, “I was nay more than an apprentice. If I had kenned better… I would have never made such a promise. If we’d met today…”
Roderick’s jaw tightened. “But that’s nae the case,” he replied firmly. “Without me help that night, ye wouldnae have been alive long enough tae even progress tae the position ye hold now.”
“Nay,” Moira responded, her tone icy. “I appreciate what ye did fer me at Dornoch. But if ye think that I couldnae have found a way out on me own, then ye’ve seriously underestimated me.” Moira crossed her arms, the air growing thicker by the moment. “I could’ve escaped without ye.”
“Maybe,” Roderick allowed, his voice cool. “But ye made me a very important promise. I’m redeeming it. Or are ye telling me the Triad doesnae honor its debts?”
“Careful, Roderick,” Moira warned. “I dinnae take kindly tae threats.”
“I dinnae mean tae threaten,” he said. “But ye made a promise that I ken ye have tae uphold. Ye have tae find out who murdered me faither.”
The words hung heavily in the air, a weight pressing down on the space between them. For a moment, neither of them moved, the flickering firelight casting long shadows across the room. Moira’s sharp eyes locked onto his, searching for some crack in his resolve, but his expression remained unwavering, his jaw set like stone.
“Murdered?” Moira finally cut through the silence, her expression filled with doubt. “But there’s nay reason tae believe that. Isnae it a wee bit far-fetched given the circumstances?”
Roderick edged closer to Moira, a faint edge of frustration creeping into his voice. “Aye, maybe, but I kenned me faither well. He was strong, hale. He was cautious in ways that others werenae. Yet somehow, after one hunting trip—one he’d made a hundred times before—he falls ill and dies? Doesnae that seem far-fetched?”
Moira didn’t speak, considering his words.
“Everyone thinks he died of natural causes, but I ken that’s nae the truth. I will find out who did it and bring that person tae justice.”
Roderick typically had rather a calm, collected, and gentle nature, whilst also being a natural leader. However, since his father’s death, he had become almost completely consumed by thoughts of vengeance. So much so that he found it difficult to control his frustrations.
“Roderick,” she began, her voice softening, “Ye cannae be sure. Just because ye dinnae want tae believe that yer faither’s death may have been nothing more than a careless mistake on the road, doesnae mean that it’s nae possible it’s true. I understand yer hurt, but, honestly, this may lead tae nothing more than a wild goose chase.”
Roderick took another step forward, closing the distance between them. Somehow, the room became smaller, the air heavier—and his eyes searched hers, hoping to connect to the part of her that might understand.
“This isnae just about what I want tae believe,” he said, his voice dropping even lower, somehow becoming more intimate. “I didnae just ask ye here on a hunch. Trust me, Moira, I ken .”
Roderick hadn’t known what to expect when he had asked Moira to go there, and part of him had thought she wouldn’t come. But he’d assumed that she would have been used to situations like his, so he couldn’t make sense of why she was so reluctant to help.
For a moment, Moira looked away from Roderick, off to the side of the room, seemingly trying to collect herself for reasons that he couldn’t understand. Then she visibly calmed and changed her demeanor. She straightened and looked back at him confidently. “Tell me everything ye ken, then. Every piece of information ye have about his death.”
Roderick’s jaw loosened, the tension was still palpable, but somehow he had gotten through to her. He knew that despite her cold approach, she’d be willing to help. After all, she had promised she would, and he sensed that she was a woman of her word.
“Me faither returned from a camping trip two days before he fell ill,” Roderick began. “The healer claimed that it’s possible fer a sickness tae take a long time tae settle in the body, but I dinnae trust his opinion at all.”
“And why nae?” Moira asked, arching a brow.
“Because he once nearly bled me dry after a skirmish,” Roderick replied sharply, spinning on his heel. “I was lucky tae survive. His competence is... questionable, tae say the least.”
“I see,” Moira continued. “An’ did yer faither go on this trip alone?”
“He always took councilmen with him when he went hunting. And they all returned in perfect health. Even though they had shared food and water, nae one of them fell ill besides me faither.”
Roderick noticed a glimmer of intrigue flicker across Moira’s face. He’d sparked her interest, and he watched as she appeared to be analyzing, lost in thought. She parted her lips as though she was about to speak but remained silent.
Roderick continued. “Right after returning from the trip, he spent some time in deep discussions with his Council. The issue was primarily that two of his councilmen, Lennox and MacDougall, were pressing him tae lease his lands.”
“So ye think they poisoned him?” Moira asked.
“I dinnae ken,” Roderick replied, running a hand through his hair. “But the timing is curious, is it nae?”
Moira sighed, consumed with her thoughts. “Curious daesnae mean proof, Roderick. Ye’ve asked me all this way fer what ye tell me isnae just a hunch, but it’s very likely that this may have been nay more than just a tragic accident. Just because we look fer meaning, doesnae mean that it’s there.”
Roderick’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, he felt a rise of frustration. His anger slowly simmered, but he managed to keep calm. He knew that his hot-headed nature would work against him rather than for him when it came to Moira.
“Ye might be right, Moira. Maybe in the end, we’ll find out that there was nae more tae me faither’s death than a careless, tragic mistake. But ye are the one who gave me that coin, and while ye may suspect that I’m wastin’ yer time, until I have answers, yer time is mine tae waste.”
Moira inhaled sharply, her cheeks flushing with what Roderick assumed was irritation. But before she could respond, there was a soft knock at the door.
Both of them turned sharply as the maid entered, her eyes widening in shock at how close they had been standing together. They were almost touching, Roderick’s tall, bulky frame towering over hers.
“Me lady,” she stammered, averting her gaze to the floor. “I apologize, I didnae mean tae interrupt.”
“That’s quite alright,” Roderick quickly answered.
The maid bobbed a quick curtsy and backed out of the room, closing the door softly behind her.
With the tension broken between them, Roderick relaxed a little, thrown off guard. Moira glanced to the corner of the room, her cheeks still flushed a light pink.
“I’ll leave ye tae it now,” Roderick said promptly, though his curiosity about Moira remained. “I look forward to seeing ye at the feast.”
With a polite bow Roderick exited the room.
Perhaps , he thought to himself, this investigation is going tae be a little more complex than I thought.