by Bree Wolf
“What is it?” Finn demanded, displeased with his friend’s short comments.
Cormag shrugged, keeping his tone even and firmly detached from the rolling emotions in his chest. “I canna help but wonder why people are so vehement in pretending that they dunna care, for it only seems to complicate matters.” In truth, Cormag knew very well why, but it still riled him.
For a moment, Finn remained silent before his brows drew down into a frown. “People? Ye said, people? Who did ye mean?”
Cormag merely lifted his brows, knowing his friend would understand.
Finn stared at him with wide eyes. “Emma?” he whispered, hope seeping into his voice as well as the desperate need to keep it in check. “Did she…did she say anything to ye?”
“She didna have to,” Cormag replied, “for the lass is as inept at pretending that she doesna care as ye are, Finn.” He held his friend’s gaze a moment longer, hoping that Finn would heed his words. Then he stepped away and went after Garrett and Ian, lending a hand where he was most needed. Was that not what a laird did? He glanced over his shoulder at Finn who stood stock-still, his eyes wide as though shock had frozen him to the spot. Had he done right? Cormag wondered, once again thinking of Moira. Had he been given this gift to interfere? To help? Or had it not been his place?
Cormag hoped with all his heart that Finn and Emma would find happiness. If only they dared reach for it!
7
A Yuletide Season
Bracing himself for what lay ahead, Cormag strode toward the hall.
Although too many people at once were often overwhelming for him, a laird needed to see to his clan. He needed to know their hearts and minds, and he needed to give them the opportunity to speak to him. And so, he headed onward, exchanging a few words here and there, relieved to hear that no serious matter needed his attention. Most were in a festive mood, and he found Ian’s wife Maggie flitting around the great hall like a fairy, decorating the ancient stone walls with evergreen boughs adorned with red ribbons and straw figurines.
Emma was by her side, indulging her friend despite the look of exhaustion that hung on her features. Finn, too, lingered nearby, and although Cormag could not read his heart with such a distance between them as well as the emotions of others nearby, the look in his green eyes spoke of a new determination. It seemed Finn had finally made up his mind to speak to Emma…once an opportunity presented itself.
Cormag hoped that it would.
The atmosphere in the hall was pleasant even for Cormag. Though most days many people meant an overwhelming variety of emotions. However, that night, most of his clan members were in a cheerful mood. Their hearts and minds were at ease, a hint of excited expectation lingering in the air as they laughed and chatted, enjoying a moment of peace and tranquillity.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Cormag leant back against the stone wall, his eyes sweeping over his people, as he enjoyed a rare moment of serenity among them.
The jolt that shot through his heart in the next moment was more startling as it was unexpected.
Feeling his muscles tense, Cormag fought the urge to spin around toward the entrance. Instead, he willed himself to remain immobile, his mask fixed in place as he slowly lifted his head and glanced at the large archway through which people moved in and out.
There she was.
Moira.
His heart paused as his gaze lingered on her gentle features, touching upon her golden curls before his eyes sought hers, drawn to the sparkling blue that shone like pools of water reflecting the hall’s candlelight. She moved slowly, her head not bowed, but her eyes slightly averted, not lingering on another’s face. She kept to the side of the hall, the look in her eyes one of pride and the determination not to yield. For although Moira often kept to herself, she did not shy away from people, refusing to lock herself away. No, she did mingle, but with care…and a certain reluctance. Still, a smile seemed to tease her lips as her gaze swept over Maggie’s decorations, and Cormag knew that she was touched by the warmth and harmony that currently lingered in the hall.
The warm glow from the fire seemed to dance with the deep colours of green and red of the branches and ribbons hung around the large hall. In a corner, children were clapping their hands in rhythm to a soft melody travelling from their lips to the ears of those around them, and the scent of freshly baked bread and pastries hung in the air as Mrs. Brown slaved in the kitchen, ensuring that all would be readied for tomorrow’s feast.
After a moment’s hesitation, Moira proceeded further into the hall, her eyes touching upon Maggie as she continued to dance around like a fairy. He saw a moment of indecision on her face before her lips moved, and Maggie turned toward her, a smile on her glowing face.
Cormag had long since observed that while Ian seemed to detest Moira, Maggie in turn held no grudge whatsoever. Her smiling blue eyes shone with sincerity as she spoke to Moira, and she invited her to join her at the table where they continued to work on tying more red ribbons to more evergreen branches. It appeared there was no end to Maggie’s enthusiasm for the Yuletide season.
Moira seemed to relax, and Cormag felt an answering sigh sweep through his own being.
Careful not to be too obvious, he watched her, enjoying the tender smiles that now and then tickled her lips. Her eyes often rose to meet Maggie’s, and the two women were soon speaking to one another with ease.
Still, a growing tension lingered nearby, reaching out its talons toward Cormag’s heart, and he turned his head, a frown on his face, as he tried to determine where it had come from.
Further down the hall, he spotted Ian, his eyes narrowed and a snarl contorting his face that spoke of hatred. Cormag knew that he ought to speak to his friend; clearly, there was a reason for Ian’s disdain of Moira. Still, Ian was not one to share his thoughts and feelings with another−in that regard they were the same−and Cormag could only read his heart, not his mind. Even knowing how Ian felt, Cormag could not determine what had caused these emotions. That was something his gift could not reveal to him.
Running a hand over his face, Cormag tried his best to disentangle himself from the situation, knowing there was no upside in allowing these emotions to overtake him. He needed to remain in control, keep a clear head, and ensure that he remained watchful. It would not serve him if his people noticed his partiality toward Moira, and so he forced his eyes away.
Ever since she had walked into his home two years ago, Cormag had been wondering if the effect she had on him would ever wane. He had hoped it would be so with all his being, keeping his distance, convincing himself that she was only one of his people, one of many. That reasoning had worked until the day she had sought him out, asking for a favour.
Ever since then, Cormag had been unable to banish her from his thoughts. He spent more time than before up on the wall-walk, knowing she would be down in the meadow, looking for fresh herbs. Even now that winter had come, she still walked through the snow, her gaze fixed on the distant horizon, and he wondered if she ever thought about leaving.
Not long ago, Cormag would have welcomed her departure, knowing it would pull him away from the abyss he was knowingly walking toward. Now, however, his heart twisted painfully at the thought of losing her for good.
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Moira rise from her seat at the table, and although Cormag wanted nothing more but to watch her, he did not. He forced himself to remain where he was and not turn toward her. Nevertheless, he glimpsed her walking over to where Emma sat by the fire, watching over Niall and Blair as they slept deeply the way only children could. A few whispered words were exchanged, and then Emma rose to her feet.
Cormag swallowed, wondering what was happening when he saw Moira stride away toward the back end of the hall while Emma headed down a corridor that would lead her outside. Stopping in the small archway, Moira looked over her shoulder, the ghost of a smile coming to her face when Finn suddenly rose from the spot he had occupied all night and left the hall as well
, following Emma.
Cormag froze, finally realising what was happening. Moira was interfering again, was she not? Had she seen Finn and Emma together and was now helping them along as she had helped Garrett?
Pride swelled in his chest as he watched her disappear through a back door, amazed by the quiet way she nudged people onto the right path. Never would they know what she had done for them, thinking their happiness had been their own doing. If only they knew! But Moira would never say a word. Cormag was certain of that.
For a long while, he stood lost in thought, contemplating all that he had observed when a familiar voice spoke out from behind him. “D’ye have a moment?”
Blinking, Cormag turned around and found Garrett standing in front of him. How had he not noticed his approach? Clearing his throat, Cormag forced his attention back to the here and now. “Aye. What is it?”
Garrett’s eyes narrowed slightly as they took in the discomposure that no doubt clung to Cormag’s features. “Are ye all right?”
Cormag nodded, willing his eyes to remain on Garrett’s. “Aye. What did ye wish to say?”
Garrett swallowed. “I just wished to inform ye that I’ve made preparations to leave for England as soon as the snow lets up.” He drew in an impatient breath. “I canna wait any longer.”
Cormag nodded again, feeling Garrett’s restlessness and longing grab a hold of his own heart. To his great shock, it felt achingly familiar, reminding him that not only Garrett had crossed paths with the woman he loved.
The shock of that realisation reverberated through Cormag’s body, and he could barely keep up pretences, feeling his friend’s lingering gaze. What did Garrett see when he looked at him? Could he read him? Did he know that…?
Cormag swallowed. “I understand,” he finally said, nodding to his friend. “Ye’ve waited long enough. ‘Tis true. I wish ye all the best and hope ye’ll find her.”
“Thank ye,” Garrett replied, a deep smile coming to his face as his eyes lit up with relief. Soon he would be on his way. It was about time!
“Thank ye as well,” Cormag replied, feeling the need to voice his regret to have detained Garrett for so long. “Thank ye for staying as long as ye have. I know ‘twas not easy, but I doubt they would’ve reached a peaceful agreement if ye hadna−”
Another jolt−the same as before−surged through Cormag’s chest, momentarily upending his balance, and he knew even without turning toward the entrance that Moira had returned to the hall.
“Are ye all right?” Garrett asked for the second time that night, his green eyes narrowed in concern. “Ye look…unhinged somehow?”
Cormag swallowed. “’Tis nothing. I…’Tis nothing.”
“Is there anything I can do?” Garrett asked, clearly not fooled by Cormag’s unconvincing denial.
“’Tis nothing,” Cormag said yet again as words failed him. His heart thudded in his chest, and then he caught sight of her as she walked back to the table she had been sitting at before, Maggie across from her. Once again, the two women bent to work, exchanging a few words here and there. The glow on Moira’s face spoke volumes about how deeply she was enjoying the simple pleasure of another’s company.
“Ye’ve written to Lord Tynham?” Cormag asked when the silence that hung between him and his friend stretched on.
Garrett nodded. “Aye, he’s agreed to aid me in my search. Though I dunna know her brother’s title, I informed him of Claudia’s maiden name. He didna know it, but he wrote that it sounded familiar. He promised to make enquiries.”
“Good. I suppose as the season in London is to begin soon, ‘twill be easier to find her, d’ye not think?” Cormag was concentrating hard to continue his conversation with his friend while his heart only had eyes for Moira.
Still seated across from Maggie, she tied ribbon after ribbon onto a large branch, her fingers moving swiftly while her lips moved in quiet conversation. Her blue eyes were bright, and the occasional smile tugged on her lips.
And then Maggie reached for another branch, knocking over a candle in the process.
The second the small flame touched Moira’s sleeve, Cormag’s heart stopped and every muscle in his body tensed. Images of a fiery inferno filled his mind, and he was about to lunge forward when Moira jerked her arm back.
Instantly, his body stopped itself as he saw that her sleeve only showed a small black mark.
No more.
Maggie was on her feet in a second, putting the candle back in its upright position before her hands reached for Moira’s sleeve, inspecting the damage.
Smiling, Moira waved her concern away, and before long, the two women were back at work.
Still, Cormag could not so easily shake off the moment. The strength of her effect on him overwhelmed him, and he had to fight for control. Never had he felt so unbalanced as though he were no longer the one who determined his own fate, as though like the earth moved around the sun, his own world had shifted, drawn to her.
To her alone.
His muscles tensed, and he knew he needed to leave. He needed distance and a way to release the tension gripping him. Still, he could not bring himself to go. Like a magnet drawn to another, he felt her pull, aware that he was not strong enough to break free. So, he stayed, exchanging a word here and there without thought, without awareness, his whole being focused on her alone. He watched from the shadows, out of the corner of his eyes. He pretended to be disinterested. He acted as was expected of him as laird.
He prayed no one would realise how hard his heart beat in his chest.
Every now and then, Cormag thought to feel her gaze travel to him in the same way his lingered on her. However, he could not be certain, and frustration soon built within his chest. Was he only imagining her attention?
Cormag could not deny that on occasion he felt as though he were losing his mind. He cursed under his breath. With all the emotions of those around him he could feel−he had no choice but to feel−he could not tell what was in her heart.
That remained shrouded.
A mystery.
No more than a guess.
As the night wore on, Cormag continued to linger. He knew he ought to leave, but he cherished the rare opportunity to be near her. In the past two years, he had only ever watched her from afar, unable to make out the light reflecting in her eyes or the slight curl that would come to her lips occasionally.
Even though the doubt and distance between them was torture, he found a small measure of enjoyment in simply being close by. After all, that was all he could hope for, was it not?
Again, Cormag’s thoughts drifted back to Finn and Emma as well as the advice he had given his friend. And in that moment, Cormag realised−belatedly! −that his own situation was not as different as that of his friend. He too…felt strongly for a woman, wondering if she returned his affections. Ought he take his own advice and speak to her?
The thought sent a cold shiver through his body, and a hint of panic sparked in his heart. For the first time in his life, Cormag felt uncertain about another’s affections, and he felt overwhelmingly vulnerable not knowing. At this realisation, it was only too understandable that Finn had held back from speaking to Emma for so long.
Doubt was indeed paralysing.
Ye should marry her, his mother’s voice broke into his thoughts, and Cormag groaned.
While Cormag had always been someone to inspect all aspects of a situation with the utmost care before deciding his future and that of his clan, his mother had always had the tendency to look at the world at its simplest. She spoke her mind freely and had never been able to understand why certain things posed a difficulty for other people.
For her, if two people loved each other, they ought to marry. It was as simple as that. The circumstances did not matter and thus deserved no consideration.
In the past, whenever Cormag had been faced with a decision that he was of two minds about, his mother’s voice had often whispered in his ear as though she stood right beside him. It s
poke with the same carefree lilt her true self-possessed, and he had often wondered why his mind would conjure her in these moments as her daring suggestions stood in stark contrast to the careful advice his father had always given him.
His parents had been like day and night, different in every way, but a deep love had connected them all their lives.
Now, his father was gone, and he knew that his mother’s heart was no longer as it once had been. Still, she had remained herself, always looking on the brighter side of life and urging others to see it as well. Nothing was ever lost or doomed in his mother’s eyes, and Cormag could not deny that her outlook on life was…comforting.
Still, he often reminded himself that life was not as one wanted it to be simply because it was one’s desire. So, even if he…wished to marry Moira, even if she wished it as well, would it be the right choice?
Cormag sighed. So much stood between them. He was laird of his clan, and Moira had been banished from hers. What would his people say if he were to make his intentions clear?
Pausing, Cormag swallowed, wondering at what point he had realised what it was he wanted. How could he know? After all, he had never spoken more than a few words with Moira. What if he made the wrong choice? What if a union between them would bring them both misery?
His gaze drifted to Ian and Maggie as they stood head to head, a quiet argument between them as they spoke to one another. While Ian’s face held nothing but pain and regret, Maggie’s spoke of guilt, and Cormag knew that theirs was a union that perhaps had better not come to be.
For Maggie loved another.
Or once had.
Cormag knew nothing of the circumstances; however, he had felt Ian’s love for his wife as well as the absence of Maggie’s. He had felt longing in her heart, the same kind of longing he had felt in Finn’s and Garrett’s chest, the same kind of longing he felt in his own. The longing for another who was out of reach, who was unattainable. The kind of longing that brought with it regret as well as fear of the future.