Page 5 of Rescued By the Highland Warrior (Highland Whispers of Love #1)

CHAPTER FIVE

“ A re ye ready?” Roderick asked Moira. His tone was calm and Moira detected no signs of impatience; however, a certain tension clung to the air.

She didn’t feel the need to prove herself to him, or divulge her methods of investigation, and yet part of her felt compelled to show him that she was taking the investigation seriously.

Moira was not one to waste her time, nor anyone else’s.

“Yes,” she replied, keeping her voice as quiet as his.

Roderick nodded. “Follow me.”

Moira also didn’t feel inclined to share with Roderick what she had taken from her case and he didn’t ask. Instead, she followed closely behind him as he led the way forward, their shadows dancing across the stone walls of the castle, Moira’s dwarfed by his.

She’d never considered herself small, she was average height for a woman, but Roderick was so large and muscular that it was difficult to ignore how tiny he made her feel.

The higher they climbed up the castle, the darker it got. The former laird’s bedroom was tucked away on the very top floor, nestled in one of the highest towers. The air grew even cooler up there, and Moira shivered slightly as she felt a draft slipping through the narrow windows.

Moira’s eyes stayed sharp–her senses heightened, receptive to any creak or sound.

“Here we are,” Roderick said, as they finally reached the top. He turned the iron handle to the late laird’s bed chamber and the door groaned open.

As they entered the room, illuminated only by Roderick’s lantern, Moira noticed that the place hadn’t been touched since the old laird’s death. She scanned the room and detected misplaced books, an unkempt large four-poster bed, and a few haphazardly placed oak chairs.

Moira traced one hand over a nearby desk, and as expected, her fingers were covered with dust.

“I stopped anyone from cleanin’ the place,” Roderick said by way of explanation. “I didnae want people in here, messin’ wi’ me faither’s things.”

“Ye did well,” Moira said, her eyes adjusting to the low lighting of the room. “It is much easier fer me tae tell if somethin’ is amiss without the place being tampered wi’.”

“Aye,” Roderick agreed, “although I just didnae want anyone touching his things.”

Moira nodded, moving behind the dusty desk.

“Bring that lantern here, Roderick , ” her words short and to the point as something caught her eye.

Roderick moved to her, the lantern casting a warm glow onto the small wooden desk. There were scattered papers that covered its surface, and Moira edged closer, her eyes examining with careful precision.

“What is it, Moira? What have ye found?”

“Did yer faither enjoy writing?” She asked.

Roderick shifted his weight, his expression skeptical. “Not beyond his normal correspondence. Me faither wasnae kent tae be a man o’ words. He preferred action over talk. Always did.”

Moira raised her brow and gestured her hand toward something at the far-right corner of the desk. “Aye,” she said, “yet there’s a pen still dipped in ink right here on his desk.”

Roderick’s eyes darted to where she had pointed, and he brought the lantern closer to it. “That’s strange, what dae ye think it means?”

“It looks as though he intended tae write somethin’ but never got the chance tae. As though perhaps he stopped himsel’, fer whatever reason. I dinnae ken.”

The wind howled and rattled against the window at the far-side of the room, breaking the silence, but Moira’s thoughts continued to race, her mind working like the turning gears inside a clock.

“An’ during the time of his death, where were ye?” She asked.

“I was away,” he sighed, his voice filled with regret. “I was visitin’ one o’ the local towns on business.”

“What type o’ business?”

“We were explorin’ ways tae increase grain production ahead o’ the approachin’ winter,” Roderick explained, his tone thoughtful. “The last few years have brought severe food shortages, due tae harsh winters, an’ we were determined nae tae see the clan suffer again.”

Moira nodded. There was no denying that he cared for his clan, and she knew that not all laird’s did. It was a good quality, she thought, one that she respected.

Aside from the pen in the ink, there wasn’t much that pointed to any other potential clues inside the late laird’s chambers. But she continued to look around, hoping to present Roderick with something more.

For when she looked back at him, she noticed that he was also scanning the room, his gaze looking over the worn, forgotten space. But the emotions behind his eyes were different from hers, she couldn’t help but be touched by the underlying rawness he was working so hard to disguise.

Moira knew how to read people, and she saw the pain behind his stoic expression. A lot of pain, mixed with confusion and sorrow.

She didn’t want to feel for him, but she did. He looked tired, and she felt a flicker of something she hadn’t anticipated: empathy, perhaps, or something more.

“Lost in yer thoughts are ye?” She asked, her tone a contrast to the quiet darkness of the space.

“Nae more than usual,” he admitted. “Have ye noticed anything else of value, any idea o’ something amiss?”

Moira waited for a beat, before responding. “The conditions are far from ideal. ‘Tis rather dark, but I assure ye, Roderick, I’m collectin’ all the information I can.”

He nodded.

Moira almost expected Roderick to demand that she remain focused but he stayed silent, and they both stood, with their backs against the table, staring out the window at trees waving in the wind. Suddenly, the room felt unusually still.

“It is very windy,” she said, hoping to coax a reaction from him.

“Aye,” he said, his voice low, staring at the same view Moira was, although she was certain that his mind was somewhere else.

She looked to Roderick, whose lips remained set in a firm line, his arms folded across his large chest.

“Ye are distracted,” she commented.

“Nae distracted, Moira,” he said. “Just determined. I ken that’s something ye can appreciate.”

“Och it is,” she said, “An’ I’m as serious as ye are, believe me, but there’s nay harm in havin’ a laugh now an’ then. I ken me joy has upset ye tonight, an’ fer that I apologize, me laird.”

Roderick’s gaze flickered to her, his jaw tightening slightly as she spoke, and Moira felt a strange sensation flicker across her chest. Why did she care so much about lightening Roderick’s mood? With nothing left to investigate the two of them could leave, but neither moved.

“Aye, I have nae problem wi’ a laugh,” he finally said, his voice quiet. “But there’s a time an’ place fer everythin’. An’ this,” he gestured vaguely around the room, “this isnae a time fer jest.”

“An’ what if I tell ye a really fine joke?” She asked, getting up from the edge of the table and standing before him. The lantern was on the desk now, illuminating Roderick’s solemn face, and the sharp edges of his features.

“What kind of joke?” he asked, his expression still defiant but with a glint of subtle engagement that spurred Moira on.

“A fine one,” she said, her voice playful but with an underlying warmth that she couldn’t quite suppress. She raised her brow, her lips turning with a wry smile. “A bit different.”

Roderick sighed, but there was a playful light in his eyes.

“Alright then,” she continued, leaning closer. “Why did the scarecrow win an award?”

“Really, Moira?”

“Answer the question, Roderick.”

“I’m nae answerin’ that.”

“Come on, Roderick!”

Her voice was only a little louder than the previous whisper, but still, it had the intended effect. Roderick hushed her with careful eyes.

She didn’t know what was making her so playful, for this was not her usual nature, but it was as though lightening Roderick’s mood was part of her mission—and Moira never failed at those.

“Answer the question,” Moira smiled.

“Fine, I dinnae ken, Moira.” he said in an overtly bored tone. “Tell me, why?”

“Because, Roderick, he was outstandin’ in his field.”

Moira raised an eyebrow, and Roderick blinked his expression serious, as though he was trying to process the absurdity of her joke.

“Did ye understand it?”

He began to shake his head, his expression softening, and much to Moira’s surprise, a faint smile tugged at his lips. It was subtle, almost undetectable, but as soon as Moira saw it, she knew she had won.

“Ye’re ludicrous,” he said. “But nae the worst joke I’ve heard.”

Moira grinned, a strange warmth spreading across her chest as they shared a brief, unexpectedly intimate moment in silence.

Suddenly, she remembered where, and with whom she was, and her expression closed off, now that her mission for the evening was complete.

“We best be on our way,” she said clearing her throat. “I have nae idea what time it is, but I’m sure it’ll be gettin' light soon.”

Roderick agreed, collecting the lantern and leading the way out of the dusty chamber. As Moira closed the door carefully behind them, she spoke again, this time her words a whisper.

“In all seriousness, Roderick, while I’m nae sure that yer faither has been killed, I dae agree wi' ye that something seems amiss. I dinnae ken what it is yet, but I dae understand why ye asked me here.”

Roderick’s steps slowed, the air between them suddenly shifting back to the coldness of before. He didn’t speak at first, and Moira couldn’t help but wonder whether she had pushed him back into the depths of his spiraling thoughts.

“I appreciate ye sayin’ that,” he said, before picking up his pace and walking ahead. “I kent that I wasnae imagining things.”

They continued to walk, Roderick in front of Moira as she followed closely behind him, her thoughts racing.

Once they were almost at the end of the hall, something pricked at the edges of Moira’s senses and she felt goose bumps rising. It forced Moira to stop in her tracks. There was something about the darkness behind her that felt wrong. She swiveled around, her senses alert, and Roderick, surprised by her movement, turned too. She gestured at him to put out the lantern, which he did.

Her breath hitched as they saw a figure approach the bedchamber behind them from a conjoining hall.

Moving quietly and with a deliberate pace, it was hidden in the shadows, only slightly lit by the moonlight shining through a window.

Roderick exchanged an urgent glance with Moira and just as he was about to charge toward it, she stopped him—pulling him back so they were both pressed against a nearby wall. Thankfully he didn’t protest and followed her lead.

Roderick and Moira breathed heavily, as she stood inches away from him, her hands pressed up against his biceps, and her head at chest height. She felt in control, for once, or he certainly could have overpowered her in seconds.

But for whatever reason, he didn’t move. He stood still, his large chest rising and falling with the intensity of his breath. Their eyes locked onto one another as their breathing synchronized.

Moira raised one finger to her lips, silently urging Roderick to remain still, and he obeyed without a word. They craned their necks toward the end of the hall where the figure stood, and watched intently, frozen in place.

The darkness swallowed the hall ahead, but even in the shadows, there was something unmistakable about the figure's movements. It was deliberate, purposeful, stealthy—like a predator, and it made Moira's stomach twitch. She could feel Roderick’s presence beside her, his muscles coiled, ready to spring into action at the slightest provocation, but for now, neither of them moved.

And then, the figure turned and began to move away, fading deeper into the blackened corridors that stretched beyond their view.

Roderick whispered sharply, his brow furrowing. “I would have seen who it was if ye hadnae stopped me from chasin’ after the traitor. Now we’re left wi’ nothin’, nay idea who it was.”

Moira crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing in frustration. “Aye, but if ye had charged in like that, ye might’ve been caught. We need tae be smart about this, Roderick. We’re investigatin’, nae fightin’.”

Roderick clenched his jaw, his gaze flickering momentarily to his father’s chamber where the shadowy figure had stood. “Nay one should be goin’ near me faither’s bedroom, the castle was under strict orders. Moira, I handle things how I handle them. Ye have tae respect that.”

Moira held his gaze, her expression unwavering. “I respect ye, Roderick. But I also ken the danger in actin' out o' anger or fear. If ye charge in blind, ye risk losin' control. We need more than a hasty reaction tae this.”

Moira ran a hand through her hair, trying to shake the anxiety building inside her. If she hadn’t been exhausted before, she was certainly exhausted now. The night had been filled with more tension than she had anticipated.

“Look, I agree,” she conceded, “it would have been useful tae try see who it was—from the shadows. But what’s done is done. Let’s just get some rest.”

Moira heard Roderick exhale sharply, as though releasing his own tensions. “Aye,” he said quietly. “Ye’re right, let’s go. Walk ahead, Moira, so I can watch over ye.”

“That’s nae necessary.”

“Moira,” he said, his voice laced with a certain softness. “Please?”

“I’m fine, Roderick, this isnae me first time in the face o’ danger, ye ken that well.” Moira said, but despite her reluctance, she moved ahead of him without another word.

Both Moira and Roderick continued down the stairs, their footsteps the only sounds. The tension was palpable, and the silent air was still begging for words unspoken. But Moira was tired, and for now, rest was the only thing that was going to give her the strength for whatever came next.