by Bree Wolf
“Aye,” Maeve exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “I’ve seldom seen a more cheerful chil−”
Cormag exhaled a sharp breath before he clamped his jaw together tightly once more.
“Are ye all right, dear?” his mother asked, her narrowed eyes sweeping over him. “Ye look a bit out of sorts.”
“I’m fine,” he all but forced out through gritted teeth, hands linked behind his back. For a second, Moira felt his gaze flicker over her face before he turned to his mother. “Did ye not also wish to speak to Mrs. Brown, Mother?”
His mother frowned.
“To enquire after her sister?”
Understanding dawned, and his mother nodded her head vigorously. “Indeed. Thank ye for reminding me.” A slight curl came to her lips, one that reminded Moira of someone aware of a secret, but reluctant to admit to it. “If ye dunna mind,” she said turning to Moira, “I could deliver yer herbs for ye. ‘Twould be no bother.”
Although certain that something had passed between mother and son that she did not understand, Moira knew that she could not refuse the woman’s kind offer, and so she handed her the basket, only holding on to Blair’s small bouquet. “Thank ye. Ye’re too kind.”
“Think nothing of it,” Maeve said, smiling at her as she gently squeezed her hand. Then, after glancing at her son once more, she headed down the corridor the way she had come and soon vanished around the corner.
Odd, Moira thought, wondering if Maeve truly had wanted to seek out Mrs. Brown or if her son had urged her to pretend. But why would he do so? And why would his mother comply? It was indeed a rare day.
Rare and strange.
Still, Maeve’s exit provided Moira with an opportunity to speak to Cormag alone. Was that why he had seemed so tense? Because he feared she would address their conversation from the day before in front of his mother? Was he afraid that others found out that he had granted her request and sent Garrett after the two love-struck runaways?
Bracing herself for his displeasure, Moira turned back around to face the stoic man behind her. His grey eyes were still as hard as steel but watching her with an attention she had rarely known. “I wanted to thank ye,” she said quietly, praying no one would overhear, “for sending Garrett to Gretna Green.”
His shoulders tensed. “There was no reason not to,” he replied calmly, but his hands remained linked behind his back. “Had ye not spoken to me, I might still have done the same.”
Moira nodded, understanding that he needed a reason that was easier to grasp than the fleeting vision that had sent her to him. “I promise I shall not repeat to others what I told ye.” Holding his gaze for a moment longer, Moira then turned to leave.
“Wait,” Cormag said once again as he had the day before, his voice low and, yet, slightly hoarse.
Moira froze, feeling her heart pounding in her chest. She could not deny that she was pleased to remain in his company a little longer. Still, his request confused her. Only a moment ago, he had seemed rather displeased to have come upon her.
“Will ye not look at me?” he asked from behind her, his voice surprisingly gentle, before she felt his hand once more descend upon her shoulder. His touch was as light as a feather; still, it sent a jolt through her that made her flinch.
Instantly, Cormag retracted his hand.
“Is there something else?” Moira asked, doing her utmost to keep her voice even as she turned around to face him.
His hands moved to link behind his back once more, re-establishing the familiar distance that had existed between them from the first. Tension settled in his shoulders and steel returned to his grey eyes, and Moira wondered what he was thinking in that very moment as his gaze watched her with the same attention as before.
“Garrett is an old friend,” he finally said, his voice even; still, Moira understood without a doubt what he as trying to tell her.
“I know,” she replied, nodding her head in affirmation. “I swear I would never knowingly endanger him.” She sighed, once more feeling the weight of her betrayal. “I know ye have no reason to believe me, but I give ye my word.”
Cormag’s eyes lingered on hers. “Knowingly?” he repeated slowly, testing the word and examining its meaning. Then he took a sudden step toward her.
Moira drew in a sharp breath but forced her feet to remain where they were and merely lifted her chin to keep him in sight.
“Ye said ye saw something.” His words were almost a whisper. “What did ye see?”
Moira swallowed. Never had she spoken to anyone about her dreams, especially not a stranger.
At her hesitation, Cormag drew closer, slowly, carefully until the tips of his shoes almost touched hers. “I trusted ye, Lass,” he whispered as his gaze locked on hers. “Now, ‘tis time ye trusted me.”
Swallowing, Moira nodded. He was right. She knew he was. He deserved answers, but her dreams had always been such a deeply personal part of her that she felt it was something too intimate to share with someone she hardly knew.
“I swear I will not repeat what ye tell me,” Cormag assured her, his voice filled with kindness, but also with insistence, and Moira knew that he would not walk away from this.
Licking her lips, Moira allowed her mind to wander back to the dream that had found her only two nights before. “I saw him in a taproom,” she whispered, and she could tell from the look in his eyes that he was hanging on her every word, “a dark-haired woman by his side. They were holding hands, and the way they were looking at one another…” Her breath hitched, and she suddenly felt uncomfortable with the way Cormag was looking at her.
Perhaps he sensed her unease for he took a step back. “I see,” he mumbled. “What else?”
“I saw them married,” Moira went on, a part of her regretting the renewed distance between them.
Cormag’s face remained immobile. “Ye mentioned a son.”
“The image changed, and I saw them together, arm in arm, gazing down at their child,” Moira whispered as she closed her eyes, recalling the vision that had filled her with such joy and peace. They had seemed so happy, and the warmth that had engulfed her in that moment had been completely overwhelming. They belonged together. She had been certain of that, and the thought of them never finding one another was what had brought her to Cormag’s study the day before.
“How do ye know when they will meet?”
Opening her eyes, Moira smiled. “That I canna say. I simply do.” She exhaled a deep breath, feeling as though a small weight had been lifted off her shoulders. Perhaps it had been good for her to share her thoughts with him. Perhaps it was not wise to keep everything locked inside.
The look in Cormag’s eyes became contemplative. “Ye canna say with certainty if what ye see will happen even without yer interference?”
Moira could not help but flinch at the last word, and the muscles in her jaw tightened. “I never know if my dreams merely tell me about what will happen or if they want me to act. I canna tell the difference.” She sighed. “They come when they choose, and there is nothing I can do.”
Cormag drew in a slow breath, and all the while his eyes remained on hers. “Ye feel helpless,” he whispered. “At their mercy.”
Moira frowned, wondering how he knew. “I never asked for them,” she told him, feeling a sudden urge to share this with him, “but neither can I ignore them. What if I do, and then…?” She shook her head, feeling tears sting the backs of her eyes as a new wave of helplessness washed over her. “There is always the risk that someone will suffer because of what I do…or don’t do. I never know beforehand.”
Cormag nodded, and she could see that there was something on the tip of his tongue. Still, he hesitated, his grey eyes watchful, observing, assessing. Finally, she saw his jaw tense as he reached a decision. “Was it such a dream that led to yer banishment?”
Moira flinched as though he had slapped her across the face, and she stared up at him, her mind empty and her heart throbbing painfully.
Re
gret came to his eyes when he saw her reaction.
Moira swallowed as a tear spilled over and snaked its way down her cheek. Still, she clenched her teeth against the turmoil that reached for her once more. “I made the wrong decision,” she finally said, her voice trembling with the memory of what she had done. “I thought I…I didn’t know that…I…”
When he reached out a hand to her, Moira shrank back, her limbs trembling. “I need to go.” Then she spun around and strode down the corridor, refusing to run, but frantically brushing the tears from her face. What had she done? Had he only asked to better assess the risk she posed to his clan? Would he send her away now?
Not since the day she had been forced to leave Greystone Castle had Moira felt this alone and unwanted.
Exiled.
Banished.
It would seem today was a bad day after all.
4
A Rare Woman
Standing in his usual spot up on the wall-walk, Cormag looked out across the green hills surrounding Seann Dachaigh Tower. When he saw movement near the tree line to the south, he squinted his eyes.
Riders were approaching. Were his men returning? Had they found the runaways? Had Garrett gotten married?
Cormag allowed his gaze to wander from the distant riders to the young woman once more sitting beneath the grove of trees not too far from the outer walls. She sat with her back resting against a thick trunk, a basket of herbs beside her, and her hands resting leisurely in her lap.
She looked at peace, and yet, after their encounter a few days ago, Cormag doubted that she ever truly was at peace. It seemed−not unlike himself−she too often wore a mask, not allowing others to see what lived in her heart.
From the thicket near the small loch, little Blair came running across the meadow, once again heading toward Moira. For a reason no one could fathom, the little girl was utterly taken with her, seeking her out whenever she could.
Niall, on the other hand, was as always displeased with his sister’s obsession and tried his best to change her mind. He grasped her arm, his lips moving quickly as he no doubt tried to reason with the stubborn little girl. Blair, however, remained adamant and was skipping toward Moira only a moment later.
Cormag could not help but wonder why Ian disliked Moira with such vehemence for his reaction appeared fuelled by more than simple mistrust or a cautious nature. Indeed, it seemed personal as though something had happened between them, some grievance or confrontation that had spiralled out of control. Perhaps Cormag ought to speak to him; however, he doubted that Ian would be very forthcoming.
As the riders drew closer, Cormag saw that it was indeed Garrett, Finn and Ian, accompanied by the two young runaways, their faces drawn and filled with apprehension. In fact, the tension that had gripped them upon being discovered and forced to return home was almost palpable for Cormag, and with each step their horses took, bringing them closer, he felt his own heart ache with the pressure.
Inhaling a calming breath, he tried to regain his composure, knowing the coming days would be trying. Still, a solution needed to be found, and he needed a clear head to do so.
Allowing his gaze to sweep over the small group yet again, Cormag was surprised to see no additional rider. If Garrett had indeed gotten married, then his wife had not accompanied them.
Deep down, Cormag realised that he had expected Moira’s prediction to come true. Had she truly been wrong? Or had something else interfered? Something she had not seen coming?
As the riders entered the courtyard, Cormag saw the worried parents rush toward their children, pulling them apart, angry words flying back and forth. A part of Cormag could understand what had prompted the youths to run off, trying to evade their parents’ bickering. Still, judging by the hatred swirling around in the courtyard below, their decision had only made matters worse.
Drawing back his shoulders, Cormag stepped away, knowing that it would do no good to reveal himself in this situation. No, it would be better to speak to Garrett first and then begin mediation between the two families. Restoring peace would not be easy, and it would take time.
If only Moira had been able to keep the youths from running off in the first place! But her dream had told her something else, had it not? It had been about Garrett and not the two youngsters.
Returning to his study, Cormag concentrated on a few administrative matters before he finally sensed Garrett’s approach. His friend’s steps were fast and with purpose, and Cormag could tell that something had changed in him since they had last seen each other.
After giving a short knock, Garrett stepped into his laird’s study, his dark hair unkempt and his clothes dishevelled from the long ride. “We’re back,” he announced, a wide grin on his face, “but ye already knew that, do ye not?”
Cormag nodded to his friend. “I saw ye,” he confirmed, watching as Garrett strode to the window, the energy humming in his muscles not allowing him to sit down. “I hope all went well.”
Turning around, Garrett sighed. “We found them,” he said with a sigh. “Unfortunately, not before they had gotten married.”
Cormag gritted his teeth. This would certainly complicate matters considering the young lass was already betrothed to another. Or had been. What made matters worse was that the two families had been fighting with one another for years. As far as Cormag knew, it had all started over ten years ago with a sack of grain. After that, more grievances and disputes had come up year after year as the families continued to argue, seemingly out of spite.
Still, in that moment, Cormag knew that what he wanted to know was whether Garrett had found the woman from Moira’s dream in Gretna Green. Still, he did not dare ask, did not dare reveal what was on his mind. “I’d appreciate it if ye’d lend a hand in the negotiations. Ye know the families rather well, and I think ‘twould be of some help.”
Garrett heaved in a deep sigh, “I had hoped to leave immediately.”
Cormag frowned as he sat forward, leaning his elbows on the tabletop. “Why is that?” he asked, sensing the urgency to be off in the way his friend ran his hands through his hair. He felt his own heart mimic the excitement that course through Garrett’s body and almost agreed right there on the spot.
Garrett gritted his teeth; still, there was a smile lurking nearby, tugging on the corners of his mouth. “Canna someone else talk to them? It will take weeks, perhaps even months to get them to see reason, ye know that as well as I do.”
Cormag nodded. “That is most certainly true, which is why ye’re the man to do it.”
Beginning to pace the length of the room, Garrett rubbed his hands over his face, his gaze distant as he no doubt sought to choose his words. Then abruptly his feet stilled, and he turned toward the desk, his green eyes meeting Cormag’s. “Something’s happened,” he said, and finally the smile that had been lurking nearby claimed his face, making his dark green eyes shine with joy.
“Ye look happy,” Cormag observed, a question in his tone.
“I am,” Garrett beamed, his booming laughter echoing through the room. “Ye might not believe it, but…I got married. To an English lass. Only a few days ago.”
The air rushed from Cormag’s lungs, and he shook his head. “So, she was right after all,” he mumbled as no small measure of awe found its way into his heart. “She was right.”
Frowning, Garrett stepped closer. “What are ye talking about? Who was right? And about what?” He laughed, “I admit yers is not quite the reaction I’d expected.”
Sighing, Cormag leant back, wondering if he should say something. Moira had not sworn him to secrecy. Still, he knew that she had placed her trust in him. Still, Garrett was his oldest friend, and a part of Cormag simply wanted to share what he had learnt because…because he was proud of her. Of what she had done. Of what she had risked seeing it happen. She had been selfless, and she deserved recognition. “Moira knew ye would get married.”
For a moment, Garrett simply stared at him. “The Brunwood lass?”
> Cormag nodded.
Shaking his head, Garrett once more rubbed his hands over his face as though to clear his thoughts. “I’ve heard rumours,” he whispered, his green eyes searching Cormag’s face, looking for confirmation. “I’ve heard that she has the Sight. ‘Tis true then?”
Cormag nodded. “So, it would see.” He sighed, and his gaze held Garrett’s for a long while. Only when the other gave a barely perceptible nod did Cormag dare continue, now certain that his friend would keep this confidential. “She came to me and said a situation would arise that only ye could solve.”
Still staring at his friend, Garrett slowly sank into the chair opposite the desk. “She did? Did she see it? Truly?”
Cormag nodded. “She said she saw ye married and−” Breaking off, Cormag realised that he ought not speak of the son Moira had seen. The boy’s promise had not yet been realised, and if something were to interfere, perhaps it would be better if Garrett did not know. What would it do to a man to hear the promise of a child that would never be fulfilled?
“And what?” Garrett pressed, sitting on the edge of his seat.
“She saw ye happy.”
A large smile claimed Garrett’s face, and Cormag realised that his friend was no longer adrift in a world full of possibilities, deciding on a whim which path to follow. No, now he was anchored to another, a woman who had claimed his heart in a single night…but she had not followed him home.
“I must say I’m surprised ye believed her,” Garrett said, his eyes watchful as he looked at Cormag. “I wouldna have thought ye would.”
Cormag swallowed, knowing he must not seem indecisive. As laird, he needed to remain in control and must not allow himself to be easily swayed. “I didna believe her,” he replied, aware that his words were dangerously close to being a lie. “I simply saw no reason not to send ye. Considering yer connection to the families, ye were clearly the best choice, and if she hadna come to me, I would have sent ye all the same.” Cormag felt his muscles relax with each word he spoke, finding relief in the fact that he spoke truthfully. “And that is the verra reason I would ask ye to assist in the mediations. Use what influence ye have and see that this matter is resolved peacefully. There’s been animosity between the two families for too long. ‘Tis time it came to an end.” He lifted his brows for emphasis. “A peaceful end.”