by Bree Wolf
“All will be well,” she whispered, bouncing Rowan gently, who was looking about himself with big eyes.
Then they stepped inside what appeared to be a small drawing room, and the moment Alastair’s gaze fell on his sister, he could have wept with joy.
With her golden tresses flowing freely down her back, she stood in the middle of the room, her blue eyes wide, staring at him as much as he was staring at her. Her cheeks shone rosy, flushed with warmth or perhaps excitement. He only hoped not with trepidation; however, the look of utter longing on her face instantly silenced his fears.
Belatedly, Alastair realised that she was holding a little boy in her arms, his hair as dark as his father’s, his eyes the same startling blue as Moira’s. The lad too was staring at the newcomers before Cormag moved to his wife’s side, taking their son from her arms.
Alastair felt Deidre step away, his eyes still fixed on his sister. Her jaw trembled, and he could see her blinking her lashes frantically as she pressed her lips together to hold back the emotions that danced across her face.
Alastair felt it too, the overwhelming love, the desperate longing, the utter relief to find their way back to each other. “Moira,” he whispered, taking another step into the room, and before he knew it she all but flew forward and flung herself into his arms.
The impact rocked him backwards onto his heels, and choked laughter spilled from his lips as he held her tightly, relief warming his limbs. Sobs tore from her throat as she clung to him, her arms squeezing his shoulders as though she was afraid he would disappear into thin air.
Long moments ticked by as brother and sister held each other. Alastair was dimly aware of Deidre’s voice as she spoke to Cormag in hushed tones. He heard Rowan squeal once or twice, interspersed by another sweet little voice.
Rowan’s cousin Liam.
Moira’s son.
Alastair’s nephew.
Family.
“I’ve missed ye as well, leannan,” Alastair whispered into his sister’s hair. “It’s been too long.”
Sniffling, she pulled back, her blue eyes still brimming with tears. “Aye, too long.” Her gaze swept over his face, noting the frown lines he’d not had before as well as those caused by laughter and happiness. “Never again,” she mumbled, a hint of doubt still in her voice.
Alastair nodded. “Never again.”
A luminous smile danced across her face, and she hugged him again. “Now, show me yer son.”
Alastair laughed. “Only if ye show me yers.”
As though nothing had happened, as though no years stood between them, they fell back into their old roles, teasing and laughing as they always had. After all, they were brother and sister still. That would never change. No matter what.
Family was forever.
THE END
Have you read Henrietta and Connor's story in Abandoned & Protected – The Marquis’ Passionate Wife? She was not always so fond of her beloved Scot.
Or Tristan and Beth's tale in Betrayed & Blessed - The Viscount's Shrewd Wife? They met at a masked ball, and that one moment shifted their world off its axis.
Already familiar with how Adelaide became Matthew's wife?
He won her hand in a game of cards. Of course, there's more to the story than that.
Read Destroyed & Restored - The Baron’s Courageous Wife!
And then there are Moira and Cormag!
Another love with obstacles in its way, but still fated to be.
Read on to find an extract of Banished & Welcomed - The Laird’s Reckless Wife!
Overview
Love’s Second Chance Series
Click here to check them out!
Also By Bree
Love’s Second Chance Series (Free with Kindle Unlimited)
A collection of marriage-of-convenience stories with a touch of mystery and swoon worthy kisses that will tug at your heartstrings and keep you up till the wee hours of the morning.
#1 Forgotten & Remembered - The Duke's Late Wife
(Rosabel & Graham)
#2 Cursed & Cherished - The Duke's Wilful Wife
(Anna & Edmond)
#3 Despised & Desired - The Marquess' Passionate Wife
(Ellie & Frederick)
#4 Abandoned & Protected - The Marquis' Tenacious Wife
(Henrietta & Connor)
#5 Ruined & Redeemed - The Earl's Fallen Wife
(Charlotte & Sebastian)
#6 Betrayed & Blessed - The Viscount's Shrewd Wife
(Beth & Tristan)
#7 Deceived & Honoured - The Baron's Vexing Wife
(Madeline & Derek)
#8 Sacrificed & Reclaimed The Soldier’s Daring Widow
(Meagan & Edward)
#9 Condemned & Admired - The Earl’s Cunning Wife
(Violet & Oliver)
#10 Trapped & Liberated - The Privateer’s Bold Beloved
(Alexandra & Antoine)
#11 Oppressed & Empowered - The Viscount’s Capable Wife
(Evelyn & Richard)
#12 Destroyed & Restored - The Baron’s Courageous Wife
(Adelaide & Matthew)
#13 Tamed & Unleashed - The Highlander’s Vivacious Wife
(Claudia & Garrett)
#14 Banished & Welcomed - The Laird’s Reckless Wife
(Moira & Cormag)
#15 Haunted & Revered - The Scotsman’s Destined Love
(Deidre & Alastair)
#16 Fooled & Enlightened - The Englishman’s Scottish Wife
(Maggie & Nathan) coming soon
Also available in Box Sets!
A Forbidden Love Novella Series (Free with Kindle Unlimited)
A collection of forbidden love stories filled with intense relationships, vibrant chemistry and strong characters that will captivate your heart.
#1 The Wrong Brother
#2 A Brilliant Rose
#3 The Forgotten Wife
#4 An Unwelcome Proposal
#5 Rules to Be Broken
#6 Hearts to Be Mended
#7 Winning her Hand
#8 Conquering her Heart
Also available in Box Sets!
Read the prequel The Spinster (part of the multi-author series Ladies of Miss Bell’s Finishing School)
Happy Ever Regency Series (Free with Kindle Unlimited)
A new Regency Series of Fairy Tale re-tellings filled with endless and undying love.
#1 How To Wake A Sleeping Lady
#2 How To Tame A Beastly Lord
Read a Sneak-Peek of
Welcomed & Banished
The Laird’s Reckless Wife
(#14)
A reticent Highland laird
A banished woman with a powerful gift
And a love that was meant to be
Scotland 1808: As laird, CORMAG MACDRUMMOND knows his duty to his clan. All his life, he has put their needs before his own, silencing his heart’s deepest desires. But then an allied laird makes a request that Cormag cannot refuse. Duty-bound, he offers the man’s fair cousin a place among his people, vowing to keep her safe from the dark rumours that follow wherever she goes. However, the moment he lays eyes on MOIRA BRUNWOOD, Cormag knows that he has made a grave mistake.
Her soulful, blue eyes and unyielding pride soon steal into his guarded heart, and before long, Cormag finds himself falling under her spell in a way he would never have expected.
Moira has the Sight. Always have her dreams shown her glimpses of the future, and always has she acted upon them. However, one wrong step sees her banished from her own clan, her family, her home and thrust among strangers, who look at her with suspicion and mistrust. Whispers abound of her otherworldly abilities, and some even believe she is a witch. Moira is determined not to cower, not to yield; yet, she finds that loneliness is a fate worse than death.
Her heart aches for comfort, for closeness, longing for a chance at redemption…but even more so longing for the laird who granted her sanctuary.
Despite the cold distance that rest
s in his grey eyes, Moira soon learns that a warm and caring heart beats in his chest as Cormag comes to her aid time and time again. His strength makes her feel safe while his gentleness unwittingly steals her heart and stirs her pulse.
However, not all are willing to see past Moira’s transgressions, and soon Cormag finds himself torn between claiming the woman he loves and staying true to his people.
Prologue
Greystone Castle, Scottish Highlands, Autumn 1806 (or a variation thereof)
Two Years Earlier
The key turning in the lock sent a deafening sound through the small chamber, a chamber that had been hers for as long as she could remember. Never had it been a prison cell though.
Never.
But that had changed the day Moira Brunwood, once a proud daughter of Clan Brunwood, had betrayed her own kin.
Swallowing, Moira rose from the chair she had occupied for the past hour, her gaze directed out at the land she loved, but would be forced to leave that very day. Her hands brushed over her gown, suddenly obsessed with smoothing out even the smallest wrinkle as she turned toward the door.
Slowly, it swung open, revealing the tall stature of Alastair Brunwood, Moira’s brother. His features were hard as his blue eyes settled on her, anger burning in their depth as she had never seen before. His lips were pressed into a thin line, and the muscles in his neck were rigid as he jerked his head toward her. “Come,” he all but growled, his voice harsh, revealing how deep her betrayal had cut him.
Still, Moira rejoiced at that single word for it was the first one she had heard him utter in many weeks. Or had it only been days? Moira could not say. Time had lost all meaning as she had been locked away, her heart and mind retreating from the world, from what she had done. How often had she sat in this chair, staring out at the land that was no longer hers?
She would never know.
And it did not matter, did it?
Her hands trembled as Moira stepped forward. She could feel tears stinging the backs of her eyes, and yet, she did not dare look away for this was her last day.
Her last day at Greystone Castle.
Her last day with her clan.
With her brother.
Bracing herself, Moira drew closer to where Alastair stood, her heart twisting painfully at the sight of his taut face. The way his eyes refused to meet hers almost brought her to her knees, and in that moment, all she wanted was to sink down and weep for the mistakes she had made, the illusions she had entertained. How had she not seen this coming? How could she have been so wrong?
Brushing a blond strand behind his right ear, Alastair stepped from the room, waiting for her to follow. He stood like a sentinel, eyes directed forward as though he did not even see her.
Or did not wish to.
For the first time in weeks, Moira stepped out into the corridor, the grey stones of the walls surrounding her as familiar to her as the back of her hand. Her whole life had taken place in this castle, and now it would have no place in her future. It was hard to believe, and a part of Moira felt as though this was no more than one of her dreams.
Dreams that showed her things that were not real but could be one day. They had been her downfall, and not a day passed that she did not curse the Fates for allowing her glimpses of a future that would now never be hers.
With her head bowed, Moira followed her brother down the back staircase. The day was still young, and only a dim glow of the autumn’s light reached inside the thick stone walls. A chill crawled up her arms, and she drew her shawl more tightly around herself.
All was silent as they stepped out into the courtyard and turned toward the stables. Fog lingered all around her, shrouding everything in a thick blanket, and the air smelled faintly of salt, whispering of the sea nearby.
Her eyes swept over the familiar courtyard where they had danced not too long ago, celebrating their laird’s happy marriage.
Connor’s marriage to an English lady.
With her lips pressed into a thin line, Moira picked up her step and hurried after her brother. Not even now could she think of Henrietta Brunwood, Connor’s wife, without feeling a stab to the heart. After all, it had been the slender, pale Englishwoman who had brought about Moira’s downfall. She had bewitched Connor, stolen his heart as well as his hand, so that he had no longer been able to see Moira.
A lone tear escaped and rolled down her cheek as Moira quickly reached up and brushed it away. There was no point in falling to pieces now. She had cried all the tears she had possessed for the loss of her future.
The future she had seen in her dreams.
The future she had been promised.
And although it was lost to her now, her dreams still stayed with her as though to taunt her.
Every now and then when sleep took her, she would travel to the moment that had urged her to act, to conspire against Henrietta, the moment that had led her down a path of betrayal.
Again, she would see herself standing atop a lush green hill, Connor by her side, his arm wrapped around her shoulders as her head rested against his strong chest. Together, they gazed across the land, their eyes sweeping over the men and women and children of their clan, preparing for the Highland Games. Moira could see the Brunwood banner flapping in the strong breeze, and a smile would come to her lips.
Again, and again, she had seen this in her dreams. Dreams she knew to be a whisper of the future. It was a gift she had had since she had been a wee lass. A gift of the Old Ones. A gift she was to use to secure her clan’s future.
And so, Moira had acted.
She had taken steps to rid her cousin Connor of his new English wife, believing − no, knowing! −that she −Moira− was meant to lead their clan by his side, not Henrietta. After all, her dreams had told her so, and never once had her dreams been wrong.
Until now.
Stepping into the stables, Moira breathed in the warmth of the animals mingling with the strong scent of hay and manure. She watched her brother lead two horses from their boxes, their saddles in place and a few belongings tied behind them.
Alastair kept his gaze firmly fixed on the task at hand, never once even glancing in her direction. He was a seasoned hunter, trained in combat, and had the instincts of a warrior. He knew without looking where she was and what she was doing. He always had, and Moira had always felt special because of it.
She was his little sister, and he was her big brother.
At least, they had been.
Once.
“Goodbye, Moira.”
Spinning around, Moira stared at Connor standing only a few feet behind her, his bear-like stature blocking the door. He was tall and broad, but he moved with the same ease and precision as Alastair. His black hair and full beard gave him a somewhat darker countenance; however, Moira knew that Connor was a man full of laughter and mirth.
Only now, his eyes were hard, and his lips pressed into a thin line as he regarded her with the same sense of disbelief and disappointment she had seen in his gaze since he had learnt of her betrayal. Since he had realised that she had been the one to almost cost him his life. That she had been the one to threaten his wife.
A wife he loved with all his heart and soul.
Moira knew that now, but she had not known it then.
To her great dismay, fresh tears shot to her eyes, and she clenched her teeth, willing them to not show themselves. After all that had happened, all Moira had left was a small bit of pride, and she would fight to keep it. “I’m sorry,” she said nonetheless; her voice, however, was even and free of the deep regret she felt. “I swear I never meant for ye to be hurt…or her.” She swallowed. “I didna know what he had planned. I swear it.”
Swallowing, Connor nodded. His gaze momentarily slid to Alastair standing somewhere behind her, tending to the horses, before he drew closer, his dark eyes fixed on her face as though he hoped to read her thoughts. “I believe ye, Lass, as Old Angus made no secret of how he used ye for his cause.”
Moira drew in a shuddering breath at the memory of the hateful, old man who had seen Connor’s English wife as a threat to the clan, a threat that needed to be eliminated. He had gathered men and led them in an attack against Connor, thinking him weak for allowing the British to infiltrate their home.
And to her shame, Moira had believed his lies and aided him in his quest.
In the end, it had been Henrietta’s courage and Alastair’s loyalty that had saved Connor’s life. Moira still felt sick at the thought of how close he had come to dying that day.
And she would have been responsible.
“But ye betrayed me,” Connor told her. “Ye betrayed all of us. I understand how Angus could have done what he did.” He shook his head. “After the horrors of Culloden, he hasna been right in the head. But ye?”
Moira nodded. “I know. I canna believe it myself. All I can do now is apologise.”
“And make amends,” Connor told her, his eyes hard as they held hers. “Yer past is sealed. It canna be changed, but ye’re still the master of yer future.” Taking a step closer, he placed a hand on her shoulder. “I know ye’ve been misled and that ye’re sorry, but that isna enough. Ye need to find a way to lead a good life.” He sighed, “Ye know ye canna stay here.”
Swallowing, Moira nodded.
Connor glanced over her shoulder, his eyes no doubt meeting Alastair’s before he looked down at her once more. “For yer brother’s sake, I give ye this chance. Use it wisely for it shall be yer last.” Then he took a step back, and his hand slid from her shoulder. “Goodbye, Moira. May yer dreams not lead ye astray again.” Then he turned and walked away, severing the bond that had connected them since childhood. Their lives would now lead them down different paths, and Moira wondered if she would ever see him again.