Page 9 of Rescued By the Highland Warrior (Highland Whispers of Love #1)

CHAPTER NINE

“ D aes it nae hurt ye?” Roderick exclaimed, his brow furrowing in confusion as Moira noticed him watch her move around at ease. She could have offered him an explanation, but she was enjoying the look on his face too much.

Moira sighed, and turned to face him, unable to hold back the playful smile that spread across her lips. “I didnae actually twist me ankle, Roderick. So there is nae reason fer it tae hurt.”

Roderick’s mouth fell open slightly before he snapped it shut, his expression serious. “So, ye were fakin’ it?”

“Aye,” Moira said, coming closer toward him.

“Tae get tae the healer?”

“Aye.”

Roderick’s expression hardened as he moved away from Moira, perching at the edge of the bed, his face etched with a deep and pensive scowl. Moira’s chest tightened. She knew he might be angry—especially after how attentive and caring he’d been during her ‘accident.’ The thought stirred a faint pang of guilt inside her.

She also didn’t like that he had had to carry her, and she didn’t like that she had had to be ‘saved’, even if it was only in pretense. The idea of depending on anyone but herself, stirred a mixture of deeply uncomfortable feelings within her.

But still, his reaction had been useful for her plans, plans that benefited him too. And yet, she couldn’t ignore the part of her that was touched by the way he had held her so protectively, the fierce concern in his eyes as he had stayed by her side at the healer’s home.

“I understand why ye did it,” Roderick said at last, his voice low and tense. “But why would ye nae just tell me? I wouldnae have been so…”

His voice trailed off, and he stopped talking, but he looked Moira directly in the eye. It was as though he was trying to extract from her all the emotions that she was already feeling.

“I’m sorry, Roderick,” Moira said gently. “But I couldnae trust that ye had any sort of good actin’ skills, and I didnae want tae raise any suspicions.”

She pushed past her guilt, refusing to feel bad for something that was ultimately for an investigation he was urging her to speed up. He was the one who had told her that they were running out of time.

“But did ye need tae tak’ it so far?” He asked. “Ye were groanin’ in pain.”

“I ken, but I needed ye tae tak me tae the healer’s chambers, which ye did. I didnae ken how sympathetic ye’d be, but ye did a great job in takin’ me there–it worked perfectly.”

“I took ye there because I thought ye were seriously hurt,” Roderick said.

They remained in silence for a few moments, and Moira went to sit on the bed next to him. She had already apologized once, and she was not going to apologize again, she hadn’t done anything seriously wrong after all, for she was telling him about her ruse now. But she did feel a strange urge to reach out and comfort him. Normally she shied from physical touch, but with him it had started to feel more natural given that she’d already been in his arms twice that day.

“Moira,” Roderick said. “Next time, could ye just let me ken afore ye decide tae pull a stunt like that? Ye can trust that I can go along with a facade pretty well.”

“Can ye?” Moira asked. “That’s nae necessarily something I ken.”

“I’ve been lying about our relationship to the whole castle... an’ as their laird, that’s been nae easy job,” Roderick said, searching Moira’s eyes as his jaw tightened. “So ye dinnae have tae play games with me.”

Her breath caught for a moment under the weight of his words. She saw the sincerity in his eyes, and though he tried to hide it, he seemed hurt. She felt like there was some other hidden meaning behind his words—one that made Moira feel more vulnerable than she normally allowed herself to feel. In fact, Roderick seemed very adept at bringing out feelings in Moira that she neither enjoyed nor desired.

“I’m nae playing games,” Moira said, smiling and pushing down the unfamiliar emotions that were arising in her. “Honestly, Roderick, loosen up, ye look as though the world has ended.”

When he didn’t respond, she added “Besides, it paid off. Let’s just say that while we were there, I noticed something o’ particular importance.”

“What did ye find?” Roderick asked. He didn’t look fully convinced, but his eyes brightened slightly. Moira didn’t want to disappoint him. Not after she’d just upset him by faking her injury.

“While I was pretendin’ tae be in pain, I scanned the room. I noticed that there were lots o’ different herbs, readily available in his chamber. One which caught me eye in particular was monkshood.”

“Aye,” Roderick nodded, looking as though he was about to smile. But he held it back, Moira supposed, because he was still annoyed at her and not yet ready to forgive her. “I had assumed ye werenae really concerned wi’ the magical art o’ healing.”

“Dinnae get me wrong,” Moira conceded. “It is fascinating, the work a healer daes is. Infact, it is quite similar tae magic. Magic that can be as dark as it is light, mind ye.”

“Explain,” Roderick urged. “What’s so special about monkshood?”

“Well,” Moira continued, “monkshood, along wi’ a few other herbs that I saw, have extremely therapeutic properties, there’s nay doubt about that. But if ingested in large doses, they can lead tae… poisoning.”

“Tae death?” Roderick asked, struggling to contain himself. She saw, however, that there was a hint of hope in his tone. Nothing was going to bring his father back but taking even a step in the direction of the truth would ease Roderick’s pain considerably and it really felt like they were finally getting somewhere, or that at the very least, they were on the edge of something.

“Aye,” Moira said. “It’s possible.”

“How dae ye ken about this?” Roderick asked Moira, his body inches from hers. They didn’t need to sit so close, but neither of them backed away. Moira felt strangely comfortable with him closer than at arm’s length, and she told herself it was because she was excited about her new discovery. She’d been waiting the whole journey back to her chambers to tell him.

“I ken ye dinnae think it’s much, but I’ve had training that’s prepared me tae recognize things such as these.”

“I never said that I dinnae think yer training has been much,” he said, “I ken ye’re brilliant.”

For some reason, the compliment took her by surprise. Her face grew hot, and a light feeling danced in her stomach. She knew she was brilliant; she didn’t need a man to tell her that. But still, coming from Roderick, it was validation she didn’t know she needed.

“Anyway,” Moira continued, shifting slightly and crossing her legs. “It daesnae mean much until we can find out the exact symptoms yer faither exhibited afore his death. Once we’ve figured that out, we can narrow it down, and maybe we’ll have some proof.”

Roderick nodded slowly, his eyes still locked on Moira. "That’s a good lead," he admitted. "And ye think the healer might have something tae dae wi’ it? Or at least, ken something?"

"It’s possible," Moira said, keeping her tone even. "I dinnae want tae jump tae conclusions just yet. First, dae ye ken if there was anyone by yer faither’s side at the time o’ his death?”

Roderick’s expression grew pensive as he leaned back slightly. Moira knew that none of this must have been easy for him– she knew how difficult it was for people to relive past experiences they tried hard to forget.

“Aye,” he said after a moment. “Me maither and Malcolm were the ones who joined him fer his final hours, although I dinnae ken the specifics o’ when or how long.”

Malcolm McDougall. Moira had almost forgotten about him, or at least part of her had tried to after his treatment of her at the betrothal feast.

Moira's brow furrowed as she absorbed his words. “Yer maither and Mr. McDougall?” she repeated, her mind already sorting through the implications. “That’s significant. If they were there durin’ his final hours, they might remember something about the specifics o’ the late laird’s symptoms, whether intentional or nae.”

Roderick gave a curt nod, though his jaw tightened, and Moira could see the struggle on his face. “Me maither was devastated,” he said quietly, his voice edged with pain. “I doubt she had the presence o’ mind tae notice much. Malcolm, though surely devastated too, might have been a little more observant, as is his nature.” He mused, his mouth fixed into a straight line.

“Aye, I understand what yer tryin’ tae say,” Moira responded, thoughtfully. “But there’s somethin’ about Mr. McDougall’s coldness that I dinnae like. It feels calculated, an’ I feel that if ye go tae him with questions, he may nae give ye the right answers.”

“Ye think I should ask only me maither instead?”

“Aye,” Moira said. “I think it’d be wise tae ask Lady Fraser fer information first, an’ approach her gently. Let her share what she remembers naturally, without feelin’ pressed. Sometimes, people reveal more when they feel they’re simply recallin’ memories rather than being interrogated.”

Roderick nodded, his features softening slightly. “That makes sense. She might remember details she didnae realize were important at the time.”

Moira nodded.

“And I agree with ye about Malcolm. There’s a coldness that daesnae sit well with me either.”

“Tread carefully, Roderick.” She said to him as he got up to leave her chambers. “Remember what I said about a gentle approach.”

Roderick nodded, “I’m a fast learner, dinnae worry.”

“There’s nae use fer worry where caution is concerned” Moira said in a lighthearted tone.

Roderick paused near the door, his hand resting on the wooden frame. “I’ll keep that in mind, Moira. Ye’ve a way o’ making one think twice before acting.”

“That’s what I’m here fer,” she replied, her tone light but her gaze unwavering.

He hesitated, as if weighing his next words, then offered her a small nod. “I’ll let ye ken what she says.”

“I’ll be here,” Moira said softly. “Good luck, Roderick.”

He gave Moira one last glance before slowly closing the door behind him. It creaked with a low whine before it finally shut.

Once alone, Moira let out a long breath, allowing herself a brief moment to register the undercurrent of tension between her and Roderick that morning. With the stakes running so high, it was only natural that they would bicker.

Still, maybe it was the cold cynic in her, but she still found it hard to believe that he cared about her any more than he had to. His concern that morning in the gardens had been real, and it made her think twice about the preconceptions about humans she had always had. And toward Roderick.

But she shook her head, reminding herself that she had sent Roderick on a task to gather information about symptoms, ones she may not have known as much about as she let on.

He had called her brilliant, and she wanted to live up to that, although not without a little help from one of her closest friends in the Triad—Edin. Edin had only been a little older than Moira when she was taken in by the Triad, and she’d always felt like a big sister. Her knowledge was greater than Moira’s, when it came to just about anything, but herbs and poisons in particular.

Getting up from the bed, Moira moved over to the small wooden desk and chair and found some paper in one of the cabinets to write a letter.

Dipping the quill into the inkwell, she paused for a moment, the tip hovering above the page. Moira didn’t want to divulge too much information, for pen on paper was always a risky business when it came to the Triad.

But time was running out, so Moira started to write.

Edin,

I hope this letter finds ye well. I’ve been reflectin’ on the properties o’ certain herbs, and’ yer knowledge is second tae none. There’s one in particular that’s been on me mind—monkshood. I find meself curious about its effects in different doses and how its properties might be altered when combined with others. Ye ken how important accuracy is in such matters.

I’d appreciate any insight ye might have on similar plants that share its potency. Yer understanding of their finer applications—whether medicinal or otherwise—has always been something I’ve admired. This inquiry is more than academic, though I cannae say more in writing.

With gratitude,

Moira

Once finished, Moira carefully folded the letter, tucking it into a spare envelope from her case, and marking it in wax with the Triad seal. While Roderick was busy talking with Lady Fraser, Moira planned on sending it out.

Roderick knocked on his mother’s chamber doors twice, so that she knew it was him. He could tell that she was in there for he could hear her shuffling around.

He wasn’t sure what she spent her time doing in the small study, but after his father had passed, she started to spend more and more of her afternoons there. She had put up a positive front, but she had been dealing with her husband’s death in her own way, the best she could.

“Come in,” her sweet voice called.

Roderick pushed open the heavy door and stepped into the study, his boots echoing softly against the stone floor. The room smelled faintly of lavender and old parchment, a comforting blend that reminded him of his childhood.

“How are ye, Maither?” He asked.

She looked tired, her eyes faintly weary, and she was sat at the large wooden desk drinking a small cup of tea.

“Perhaps better than ye,” she chuckled. “What bothers ye, Roderick?”

“Why would ye think that I am bothered?”

“Son,” she sighed. “I ken ye very well, and it's nay secret ye’ve been bothered fer quite some time. Perhaps I used the wrong word just now, what I meant tae ask is what is it that ye’d like tae bother me wi’?”

Isobel smiled kindly at her only son, and Roderick knew instantly that there was no being tactful with her.

He closed the door gently behind him and took a step closer. “I wanted tae ask ye about faither’s last moments… about how he died.”

Isobel’s expression turned, and she settled her teacup onto the table, the rattling noise jarring the silence before she turned back to him. “Roderick, I dinnae wish tae focus on that right now. It’s in the past, we should be lookin’ toward the future.”

“Maither,” Roderick said, “that’s what I’ve been doin’. But I need tae ken, although I am aware it’s painful fer ye. Believe me, I’d rather put it tae rest too, but I need tae ken what happened—we must talk.”

Isobel’s solemn look was replaced by a faint smile, “Roderick,” she said. “Ye’re betrothed, ye have a lovely wife-tae-be, and trust me, I see the way ye look at her. All I can think about these days is how excited I am that ye have finally found someone ye love. There’s nay point lookin’ back on the past when the future’s so bright.”

Roderick’s words caught in the back of his throat; he hadn’t been expecting her to say that. The way he looked at her? He hadn’t realize that he had been looking at her in any kind of way at all. Was their acting so good that they were fooling even his own mother?

However, his mother was right when she said that she knew him well, and so Roderick wondered—did he feel something for Moira? She was brilliant, different, and mysterious. Of course, she was bonnie as well, he had been aware of that from the first moment he had seen her.

But she was only there to do a job. She wasn’t who his mother thought she was, and there was no way that Roderick could even entertain the idea.

She is just fascinating, nothing more.

He had to stay focused, and he had to look past any frivolous stirrings that may distract him from his path toward vengeance.