Page 20 of Rescued By the Highland Warrior (Highland Whispers of Love #1)

CHAPTER TWENTY

R oderick had been so caught up with Moira that he had almost forgotten about that evening’s feast. He wished they could have stayed locked away in his chambers, but he knew that if they both didn’t attend, it would stir suspicion.

After he had made his way around the hall exchanging pleasantries with his guests, Roderick returned to his seat to find Malcolm hovering close by.

“Me laird,” Malcolm said with a little too much enthusiasm, "I was speakin' wi' Fiona just now. She’s keen to learn more about its history, ye ken. I told her ye’d be the best person to guide her. Would ye mind takin’ her around? I’m sure she’d appreciate yer insight.”

To his side, he noticed Moira’s frosty expression as she stared emotionlessly ahead. “In due time, Malcolm,” Roderick said. “Now I need tae give the evening’s speech.”

Malcolm nodded, as Roderick called for silence, rising to his feet to give a toast. After his toast, Roderick continued talking with guests and it appeared that for the most part, Malcolm had backed off.

“Moira,” Roderick said, leaning toward her, “would ye like tae dance?”

She nodded, placing her hand in his with a smile. The music reverberated through the hall, and they moved toward the center of the room, his hand clasped tightly around hers.

Once stationed, he slid his hand to her waist, drawing her closer. He felt the warmth of her body pressing lightly against his, and he took her in, his gaze wandering up and down her frame.

As they moved, one step at a time, he could feel her heartbeat and he could tell how much she wanted him too.

It spurred him on. He longed to be even closer, for them to be alone.

“Moira,” he said, leaning down to whisper into her ear.

Suddenly, Roderick was interrupted by a familiar voice.

“Me laird,” Malcolm interjected, “I dinnae mean tae interrupt, but perhaps Fiona could have this next dance?”

Roderick’s gaze darkened. His eyes flickered toward Moira whose own smile had faltered, her expression hardening as she glanced at Fiona standing at the far side of the room.

Before Moira had a chance to respond, Roderick took control of the situation, his voice firm and authoritative. “Malcolm,” he began, turning to face him, “that’s enough.”

Malcolm blinked in confusion, his grin faltering. “What’s the matter, me laird? Surely, ye cannae be bothered by a dance request. Fiona’s been eager tae catch up with ye.”

“Nay,” Roderick snapped, his gaze hardening. “Ye ken well that isnae appropriate, Malcolm. I am dancin’ wi’ me betrothed.”

He glanced back to Moira whose expression was wounded. She released herself from him before walking off.

“Me laird–“ Malcolm began.

“Please excuse me,” Roderick said shortly, before following after her, his mind consumed by his anger towards Malcolm.

It was too much. Roderick couldn’t fathom what might have emboldened Malcolm to insist in such an obvious manner. He was clearly trying to throw his poor daughter in his path, while doing everything in his power to belittle his betrothed. Roderick could understand why Moira was so upset; she had every right to be.

As she moved ahead, Roderick managed to catch up with her just as she was about to go in the direction of the halls that led to her chambers.

“Moira, wait,” he said, his breaths heavy. “Where are ye goin’?”

“I dinnae ken, Roderick,” she said, not turning around.

Roderick came up behind her, his hands settling across her waist, and she froze.

“Ye’re comin’ wi’ me,” he said.

With his hand in Moira’s, he guided her back to his chambers—where he kissed her with passionate force once inside. She kissed him back with equal strength, her arms looped around his neck as he backed her against a dresser.

“Roderick,” she said breathlessly between kisses.

A stirring from his member pushed him to swivel her around, and he began to undo the back of her dress.

Their gazes caught in the mirror, Moira’s green eyes glowing back at him with the same unmet desire. At first, she was intent on watching him kiss her neck and shoulder in the reflection, her mouth slightly open, her cheeks flushed. But then, as he looked back up, he noticed that her focus had shifted.

“Wait,” she said, moving out of his grasp. “Wait, Roderick.”

She bent down slightly to pick up his father’s letters, which lay open on the desk.

Roderick sighed. There was no use in hiding the truth from her any longer. He wanted to be with her, and after what had happened with Fiona at the feast, he thought it was only right that she should know.

“I must tell ye the truth. The letter that me faither left me,” he said, “tells me tae marry Lady McDougall.”

Roderick expected Moira to look shocked or upset, but if she was, she betrayed no sign of it at all. Instead, she continued analyzing the letters, her eyes running up and down the pages.

“I dinnae think yer faither wrote that letter,” she said. “The other two letters,” she said, turning them over in her hands. “They have slightly different penmanship, an’ they were written on different types o’ paper. What is Lennox’ an’ Malcolm’s relation tae one another?” She asked absentmindedly.

“Why?” Roderick asked.

There was a glint in Moira’s eyes—sharp, unwavering, and filled with a determination Roderick couldn’t quite place.

“Lennox’ sister married Malcolm, makin’ her Fiona’s maither,” he said.

“An’ what will happen if Lennox, who is old an’ sickly, dies ‘afore Fiona marries?”

“Well,” Roderick said, his brow furrowing. “Lennox never married. All o’ Lennox’s leases fer agricultural lands are tied tae his name, so if he dies, he risks those leases expirin’. Malcolm is helpin’ wi’ farmin’ those lands an’ a lot o’ their wealth is tied tae those leases.”

“What about Fiona? Is she nae Lennox’s heir?” Moira demanded.

“The leases could never go tae her because she is a woman.”

Moira nodded, the wheels were turning fast in her mind, and it appeared that something had fallen into place.

“I think yer faither was killed by Lennox. I think he wanted tae push this marriage between ye and Malcolm’s daughter in order tae ensure that the Fraser lands would be tied to his family line.”

Roderick moved to the other side of the room, where he sat at the edge of his bed, his mind working through what Moira had just said.

“But why?” he questioned. “Why would he kill me faither fer that, why nae just set up the marriage?”

“Because I think yer faither was actually against it. That is why he had tae kill him, probablu usin’ hemlock.”

“Hemlock?”

“Aye,” Moira said, coming toward him. “I wrote tae Edin, me good friend, a member of the Triad who specializes in poisons an’ herbs. She confirmed that wi’ the right dose, hemlock can poison tae the point o’ death, causing the type of symptoms yer faither had. There were both monkshood and hemlock in the healer’s chambers, but the symptoms she described were different.”

“But how would he have managed tae dae this?” Roderick asked, leaning forward as his elbows rested on his knees.

With a sympathetic look in her eyes, Moira knelt before him, placing her hands gently on his.

“He must have started it durin’ the huntin’ trip, an’ increased the dose once they returned tae the castle,” she said softly, although she didn’t slow her pace. “Due tae Lennox being sick himself, it would have been easy fer him tae move in an’ out o’ the healer’s room without raisin’ any suspicion.”

“Sweet mercy,” Roderick exhaled, his voice barely louder than a whisper. He clenched his jaw, the weight of what had just been said settling heavy on his chest. “If this is true, then Lennox has been plottin’ this fer a long time.”

“Aye,” Moira said, coming to sit beside him. “An’ it was Lennox who was in the corridor and the passageway an’ by yer faither’s chambers. He had been going in there tae use yer faither’s paper and ink tae write that letter. I noticed, although I am only now piecing it together, that after yer fight in the passageway—his condition deteriorated sharply. That would make sense if he had been wounded by yer dagger. He probably knew about the secret passages from Malcom. He was a childhood friend of yer faither’s and they probably played in them together as bairns. It is possible Lennox also found out from him that yer faither went tae the lodge fer some peace an’ quiet, which is why he kenned where tae hide the letter… what he didn’t think of was removing his real letters that he kept hidden there.”

Roderick nodded, a silence settling upon them, as Moira interlaced her fingers with his.

“What dae ye think?” She asked.

“I ken what I have tae dae.”

Roderick rushed downstairs to the main hall. He told Moira to stay in his chambers, and to his surprise she obliged.

He didn’t want Moira around when he did what he had to do. It was too dangerous, and the last thing he wanted was for her to get caught in the middle.

The lively music sounded in the background, as Roderick stormed back into the main hall. Around him, people were dancing merrily, drinking and toasting, totally oblivious to the treachery that had been enacted.

He scanned the room frantically for Lennox, but he was nowhere to be found.

“Aye, me laird,” a Councilman came up to him. “It is a fine feast, are ye an’ yer betrothed nae goin’ tae have a dance?”

“Dae ye ken where Lennox is?” Roderick asked him hurriedly. He had no time to waste, not knowing what he knew.

“Nay, me laird, me apologies,” he responded, bowing away.

Roderick marched over to the head of the long table. He took his goblet in his hand and thrust it against the wooden surface, the loud clang echoing through the hall.

The chattering stopped and the musicians faltered, the fiddle letting out a discordant screech as the music came abruptly to a halt.

“Hear me now,” Roderick’s voice boomed through the halls. “There has been great treachery within these castle walls, an evil so vile that it stains the very stones we stand upon.”

Around Roderick, the guests broke out into uneasy murmurs.

“Cameron,” he said, his gaze directed toward his friend. “Assemble a band o’ men immediately. We will ride out as soon as possible.”

“Aye, me laird” Cameron responded, hurriedly exiting the hall.

As Roderick moved to follow him, he once again bumped into Malcolm on his path. His gaze narrowed, eyeing him with deep suspicion.

“Me laird,” Malcolm said, his tone the most animated Roderick had heard it. “What is happenin’?”

“Dinnae act as though ye are unaware, Malcolm,” Roderick snarled, his voice low and simmering with anger.

The man’s brow furrowed. “I swear, I ken naught o’ what ye speak.”

Roderick’s rage took over, and he grasped his dagger, holding it to Malcolm’s gut.

“Lennox poisoned me faither,” he spat, through gritted teeth, “fer nae agreeing wi’ his proposed betrothal between yer daughter an’ me. All o’ this time he planned tae find a way tae force the union so that he could ensure his family line remains tied tae Fraser lands. Ye’re really tellin’ me ye have naething tae dae wi’ this?”

Malcolm’s face reddened. Silent and still as a statue, he glanced down at Roderick’s blade.

“I didnae ken all o’ that, I swear it!” He said, his voice shaky. “When Lennox approached me tae start a fire in the southern lands, I just thought it was a means o’ pushing ye tae dae the right thing by marryin’ me daughter. I dinnae think I’m the one ye should be blamin’.”

Roderick’s eyes burned with fury. It took everything inside him not to raise his dagger to Malcolm’s throat. “Ye purposefully started the fire? Dae ye truly have nae regard fer innocent lives?”

“Look,” Malcolm said. “I just wanted me daughter tae have what we raised her fer. If ye had just chosen tae marry Fiona, none o’ this would have had tae happen.”

“An’ what o’ me faither?” Roderick snarled. “It was just easier tae kill him, wasnae it? Nae tae mention the attack on Moira this morn’… we found yer arrow in the grass…”

“I didnae ken anytin’ o’ murder, lad,” Malcolm said. “Yer faither an’ I were close, like braithers, ye ken that well. I would never have brought him any harm. And I ken nae of what arrow ye speak…”

Roderick eyed him suspiciously, and although he still saw Malcolm as a traitor, he could tell from his expression that he was telling the truth. Malcolm, although wrong, was not the murderer here—Lennox was.

“Then ride wi’ us,” Roderick finally said, releasing his dagger from Malcolm’s stomach. “If ye ever cared about me faither, then ye’ll ride wi’ us tae find Lennox. Ye’ll make up fer what ye have done.”

Malcolm nodded. Though he hadn’t let his guard down yet, Roderick could detect the faintest hint of remorse. He knew that Malcolm felt guilt to an extent, though it did little to ease the bitter taste in his mouth.

Malcolm followed behind Roderick and his men and they set out at once. As they moved through the night, the moon hung low over the hills. Roderick’s stomach churned with tense expectation as Lennox’s estate came into view. As they approached the entrance, they were met with armed guards.

“We’re here tae see Lennox,” Roderick announced. “Official Council business.”

The guards exchanged wary glances before one of them, an older man with an uncertain look in his eyes, nodded toward the others. Without a word, they stepped aside, allowing the group to pass through.

As they reached the stone building, Roderick and his men dismounted from their horses. Roderick instructed them to conceal their weapons. Caution was necessary, he did not want to start a fight too soon and warn Lennox of their presence.

Another guard greeted them at the door.

“I’m here tae see Lennox,” he said. “There’s been an emergency at the castle.”

The guard nodded. “Mr. Lennox is in the main chamber wi’ his men, would ye like me tae send word.”

“Nay,” Roderick said abruptly passing by him. “We can go tae him ourselves.”

As Roderick led his men through the dark hallways, he instructed them to draw their weapons.

They reached the central chamber and Roderick didn’t wait for permission— with one sharp motion, he flung open the heavy wooden doors, revealing Lennox sitting at a large table surrounded by his own men.

His cold eyes met Roderick’s as he realized what was going on.

“Well, well,” Lennox sneered, breaking the quiet with a chuckle that made Roderick’s blood boil. “The mighty Laird Fraser comes tae me door in the middle o’ the night, with his hands full o’ the Council’s wrath”

“It’s over Lennox,” Roderick snarled, raising his sword. “Yer time has run out.”

Lennox’s expression darkened, and without another word, he signaled his men. They moved in, drawing their weapons.

A battle cry sounded from Roderick’s lips as his men met with Lennox’s, the explosions of clashing swords and cutting axes filling the air.

Amid the chaos, Roderick’s gaze remained fixed on Lennox. As he clashed his sword with those around him, he saw him getting away.

“Lennox,” he yelled, chasing after him out the door. “Ye’re nae goin’ tae get away wi’ this.”

Lennox smirked at him, as he ran down the hallway— Roderick following quickly behind. This time, he wasn’t going to let him escape.

Lennox’s footsteps echoed down the hallway as he sprinted, his smirk slowly fading as he realized the distance between him and Roderick was closing.

Roderick’s breath was heavy, adrenaline coursing through him as he pursued.

Soon the chaos from the battle faded into the background, and only the sounds of Roderick and Lennox’s footsteps filled the air.

As they rounded a corner, Lennox whipped around, sword in hand, ready to strike. He lunged at Roderick, but Roderick side-stepped him with a sharp turn.

He brought his sword up to clash with Lennox’s, the two weapons locking with a screech of metal.

“Ye should have thought this through, Lennox,” Roderick gritted out, using his power to shove Lennox back. “There’s nay escape now.”

Lennox’s chest heaved as he staggered backward, eyes wide with panic.

“Ye’re nae better than I, Roderick, nay matter how good ye think ye are.”

“Yer words are worthless,” Roderick snarled, charging forward. He brought his sword down in a sweeping arc, aiming for Lennox’s midsection.

Lennox side-stepped quickly out the way. He was old and unwell, but years of experience let him retain an edge, even in battle with a much younger man. But it was short-lived.

“Ye’re nae stronger than yer faither,” he spat, his sword raised, though he was shaking. There was little Lennox could ultimately do against Roderick, and Roderick knew that well.

“Give it up, Lennox,” Roderick spat.

“Mak’ me,” he snarled. “Ye dinnae have the stomach fer it, young bairn.”

With a roar, Roderick pressed his attack, forcing Lennox back. He struck fiercely and Lennox’s sword fell from his hands sliding across the floor.

Lennox took another step back, his eyes wide with panic. There was nowhere for him to run. He was trapped.

“If ye had just used some common sense, damn boy, and married Fiona instead of droolin’ after that other lass, none of this would ever have happened!” He shouted at Roderick, knowing his time had come. “But nay… all ye could think of was tae bed that lassie, even when the Council tried tae change yer mind. There would have been nay need tae start those fires or tae write the letter if ye had been thinking with yer head… But ye insisted on stayin’ with that girl, so I had tae find a way tae get rid of her. I had tae send me men tae steal arrows from Malcom’s estate… but the damn lass managed tae survive the attack!”

Roderick listened, red and panting, a fury invading him that he had never known. Not only had this man killed his adored father, but he had also tried to kill the woman he was in love with!

“And what about the letters?”

“I kenned ye were on tae something that night in the secret passages. I kenned ye were searching fer evidence and that eventually ye would go lookin’ in the hunting lodge. It was one of the last places yer faither had been. So where better tae hide those letters… a last attempt tae get ye tae dae yer duty and marry me niece. But nae even that could pull ye away from what was between that girl’s legs.”

Roderick had heard enough and that last insult to the woman he loved was too much to bear. He lunged at the old man.

“This is fer me faither,” Roderick yelled, spittle flying from his lips. “And fer Moira!”

With a final, decisive movement, Roderick surged forward, thrusting his blade through Lennox’s chest.

The old man’s mouth widened in shock, his breath coming out in ragged gasps as he collapsed to his knees.

He coughed, a spurt of blood splattering onto the stone floor— before faltering to the ground.

Roderick grimaced, releasing his bloody sword.

“Ye chose yer fate,” he muttered as he stood over the traitor’s body.

Malcom walked over to him from the other side of the room. “I kenned naething of the attack on me lady, nor would I ever have helped that man if I had kenned what he did tae yer faither lad, ye must believe me, me laird” Malcolm’s said, his voice pained. “Fergive me fer what I did, if ye will,”, he whispered from behind him.

“Aye,” Roderick said without turning to face him. “It’s done.”

As they rode back to the castle, Roderick’s thoughts shifted from feelings of resolution to the words his mother had recently spoken. He had to move forward, he had to find his joy.

Moira.

Moira was his joy, and in that moment, finally free after having avenged his father, all he cared about was being with her.

His heart ached with his need.

As soon as they returned to the castle, Roderick called out hurried orders to his men before excusing himself.

He rushed upstairs to his chambers, where Moira was waiting, and she stood up to meet him, concern etched across her face.

“Roderick,” she called breathlessly. “What happened?”

He rushed toward her, taking her face into his hands and claiming her lips with a kiss so tender with need that Roderick felt as though his heart may burst out of his chest.

“I love ye,” he said, releasing from their kiss and studying her face. “I’m in love with ye Moira, I need ye tae stay.”

“But Roderick,” she said sadly, “as much as I want tae, I have given me word tae serve the Triad fer at least five more years.”

“Can ye nae get out o’ yer promise?”

“I’ve never heard o’ that, nae,” she said, sadly looking down to the floor as her face remained cupped between his hands.

“But I can just keep doin’ missions,” she said with a renewed energy. “An’ I can return tae ye after each one. It’ll be difficult but–”

“Nay,” Roderick interjected. “I’m nae lettin’ ye go.”

“But Roderick,” she said sadly, as he gently caressed her cheek. “I have tae.”

“Shh,” he hushed. “Let us nae spend our time arguin’. I want tae be wi’ ye, fer as long as I can.”

She nodded, and Roderick brought his hands down to her waist as he pulled her gently towards him, once again losing himself in her soft lips.

They kissed with a renewed hunger, their tongues intertwining in a perfect rhythm, as Roderick ferociously removed her clothes.

They found one another on the bed, and Roderick pulled down his trews, pressing his weight on top of her.

As he brought his member to her folds, he slid in with ease, Moira’s wetness stirring a deep groan within him.

“I love ye,” he said, as he pumped inside her, clutching her body as though it were a passage to her soul. He wanted to merge with her, and as he increased his speed, his manhood prompting her sweet, soft moans, he felt as though their merging was almost complete.

“I love ye,” she said back breathlessly, “so much.”

As Roderick released inside her, he hung his head across her chest. He took in each breath and savored her body as though it were the last time he’d be able to touch it.

But Roderick was not one for letting things go. As soon as Moira drifted off to sleep, he tucked her into his bed and kissed her lightly on her forehead.

He then slipped off to her chambers, where he rummaged through her things.

The Triad’s coin glimmered in moonlight as he brought it into view. He smiled to himself with quiet determination as he sat down to write a letter.

He was going to offer the Triad all of Lennox’s land in exchange for Moira’s hand.

If that didn’t work, he’d try something else. Anything. He’d do whatever it took to keep Moira safe and by his side, forever.