by Bree Wolf
Without thought, Cormag lunged forward.
Long strides carried him across the small distance, his arms stretched toward her as Moira righted herself, a sharp exhale of air rushing from her lungs. She was still swaying, but her footing was steady once more at least for the moment.
Nevertheless, the second Cormag all but slammed into the parapet wall, his arms closed around her midsection, pulling her against him and away from the early grave she had been toying with.
A scream tore from Moira’s lips as she fell backwards into his arms, her heart beating like a drum of war against his own. Kicking and screaming, she tried to free herself from his hold, panic giving her more strength than he would have thought her capable of.
“’Tis me!” Cormag barked, spinning her around and grabbing a hold of her wrists. “’Tis me!”
The moment her wide, blue eyes fell on him, she stilled, her chest rising and falling with each rapid breath as she stared at him as though he was the last person she would have expected to see.
Cormag gritted his teeth, feeling a stab of pain at the realisation that he was not on her mind as she was on his. “What were ye doing?” he growled, yanking her closer as his hands tightened on her wrists. “What were ye doing up there?”
A gasp flew from her lips at his harsh treatment, and she began to struggle against his hold on her. “It doesna concern ye,” she panted, the pulse in her neck still hammering erratically. “Release me!”
“I saved yer life,” Cormag snarled, anger now mingling with the fear that had seeped into his blood. “I deserve an explanation.”
Ceasing her struggle, Moira met his gaze, her own defiant. Still, there was a slight tremble in her lower lip that almost doused the flames of his anger. “I never asked ye to.” Strength rang in her voice as she began to speak, but it quickly waned until the last word was nothing more than a whisper.
Her breath quickened as tears filled her eyes, and she dropped her chin, trying to hide her pain from him. “Please, release me,” she whispered without strength, and this time, Cormag complied.
Drawing in a deep breath, he sought to calm the emotions that boiled in his own blood. “Tell me what brought ye up here, Moira,” he demanded, but his voice rang gentle for his heart saw the despair that clung to her features.
Moving away from him, Moira kept her gaze on the stone floor. “Ye wouldna understand,” she whispered before wiping her hands over her eyes to stem the flood of tears streaming down her face. “Leave me be.”
Afraid of what would happen, of what she might do if he were to respect her wishes, Cormag went after her when she once more drifted closer to the stone wall. “I willna leave ye alone up here, Lass.”
At the sound of his voice, Moira turned around, but her feet kept moving her backwards until the wall stopped her. Her arms spread to her sides, and she rested her hands on the rough stone as though it gave her comfort.
Cormag felt as though a dark abyss was opening between them. “Talk to me,” he said gruffly as his eyes swept over her tear-streaked face, fighting to look deeper, to understand. Where was his gift when he truly needed it? “What brought ye up here?”
She swallowed hard, and her eyes became distant. “Ye dunna know what it is to be utterly alone and to know that ye deserve it.” She blinked, and her eyes met his, fresh tears pooling in their blue depths. “I dunna deserve yer pity, but I canna live like this. Not anymore.” She closed her eyes, and in that moment, she seemed frighteningly fragile, breakable that Cormag feared a gust of wind might carry her away.
Her words echoed in his mind, reminding him of how Ian had spoken to her earlier that day, his voice full of hatred and accusation. “Dunna listen to what Ian says,” he told her, carefully moving closer as he feared she might do something rash if her emotions should run high once again. “He’s battling his own demons and canna see that his words are unjust.”
“But they’re not!” she exclaimed, her outburst a cry of pain. “I deserve what I got, and yet…” She swallowed, shaking her head. “How does one live without pride, without self-respect? I know I need to forgive myself, but I dunna dare for ‘twould be wrong. What was willna be forgotten, and perhaps it shouldna.” She inhaled a shuddering breath, pressing herself closer against the wall. “I canna live this life. I’ve tried, but…but this…this loneliness, it rips me apart.” Sobs tore from her throat, and she clamped her lips shut to keep them contained.
Her despair echoed in his heart, but Cormag knew that it was not his gift that allowed him to feel her. He felt her pain because he cared. It was a simple truth, but it almost knocked him off his feet.
He cared for her, and the sorrow in her eyes was almost more than he could bear. More than anything, he wanted to take her in his arms and soothe her fears, promise her that all would be well, that she would never be lonely again.
That he would take care of her.
That he would be there.
Afraid to frighten her, Cormag approached with caution, noting the way she watched him, the way her shoulders tensed and the way she pressed closer to the wall. His stomach churned when a shiver gripped her, but he knew he could not walk away no matter how much she might wish he would. “Think of yer family before ye act, Lass. It might not feel like it now, but they love ye. Dunna do this to them.”
A dark chuckle rumbled in her throat. “’Tis not true. They might have…once, but that is long gone. What I did destroyed the love they had for me.” She swallowed hard. “I havena seen my brother in over two years. He wouldna know if I were gone. And my aunt only suffers because of me, because I am here, because…” Her shoulders pulled back as her features hardened. “Nay, I willna fool myself. No one,” her voice caught, but she pressed on, “no one would miss me if I were no more. No one.” Her gaze held his for a long moment before she suddenly spun around, ready to lift herself up onto the wall once more.
Cormag’s heart lurched into his throat, and his hands shot forward, grabbing her by the arms and yanking her back, pulling her away from the wall. She struggled against him, tears misting her eyes. “Please, release me. I only want this to be over. Please.”
His heart softened toward her, but he did not comply.
“No one would care,” she promised, her wide blue eyes looking up into his. “I swear it.”
Grabbing her chin, Cormag pulled her into his arms, his eyes locked on hers. “Damn it, Lass, I care!”
Staring up at him, she froze.
14
The Eastern Tower
Dark grey eyes looked down into hers, and Moira knew not what to feel.
Only moments ago, she had been so close to the end, to giving up, and then Cormag had come, and her traitorous heart had soared at the sight of him. Never would she have thought that he would come for her, that he would fight to keep her in this world, that he would…care.
But did he speak the truth?
Oh, her heart wanted nothing more but to believe his words. The way he had pulled her away from the abyss that loomed before her, dark and all-consuming, had set her skin on fire. She felt his rough hands wrapped around her arms, holding onto her as though he truly feared to lose her. His grey eyes had darkened, and that calm, controlled expression that always clung to his features had shifted. Emotions lurked around their edges, and she could see from the way his jaw tensed that he was not pleased.
Perhaps she was only seeing what her heart wanted to see.
Cormag had not come because he cared for her, a deep-seated fear whispered, but because he was responsible for her. By accepting Connor’s request, she had become a clan matter, and he was the MacDrummond’s laird.
Disappointment extinguished the flames that had warmed her skin only a moment ago, and Moira knew that she had been foolish to believe anyone could care for her out of more than duty and honour. Those days had long come and gone.
Her gaze slid from his and her head sank, suddenly feeling heavy like a boulder balancing on a twig. She felt her strength wane and wa
s ready to sink to the ground and weep when a flicker of pride caught her off guard.
No matter what the circumstances, she was still a Brunwood, and she would not cower.
Not now.
Not ever.
Straightening, Moira lifted her head as she pushed that little flicker of pride to spark into something more.
Cormag’s gaze narrowed, and she knew that he could see the change in her. The pressure of his arms around her lessened until he stepped back and finally released her. “Ye willna do anything foolish?”
Moira scoffed, trying her best to hide the shudder that claimed her at the loss of his warmth. “Have I not already done so? As have ye?”
A frown drew down his brows, and his eyes remained on her face, watching, assessing. “What d’ye mean?”
“Ye allowed me to stay,” Moira replied, torn between putting more distance between them and abandoning all pride and rushing into his arms. “Ye shouldna have done so, for it only brought trouble on ye, has it not?”
His jaw clenched and unclenched before he nodded. “Aye, ‘tis brought trouble upon me, but−”
“There!” Moira exclaimed. “I knew ye were lying.” Still, hearing his admission, she felt fresh tears pricking the backs of her eyes. Deep down, a part of her had clung to the belief that he truly cared.
“Lying? About what?”
Shaking her head, Moira retreated, unable to bear being so close to him. Even five paces were not enough. Six. Seven.
For a moment, he watched her, indecision resting in his eyes, before he closed the distance between them once more, and his hand reached out to grab her wrist. “Will ye stop trying to throw yerself off the roof?”
Trying to jerk her hand free, Moira felt her earlier despair return. “Unhand me!” she demanded, shoving against him.
Instead of budging, he swiftly caught her other wrist, pulling her back against him.
Moira gasped. His face was so close, his grey eyes looking into hers in a way that… “Release me,” she whispered, but it was more like a plea, and she felt disgusted with her own weakness.
It was not surprising, though, was it? After all, where would she have found the strength to hold her head high? There was nothing left. Nothing but tears and shame and loneliness.
“I willna walk away until ye’ve explained yerself,” Cormag whispered, his voice deadly calm as his hawk-like eyes swept over her face. “How have I lied to ye?”
Willing her voice not to quiver, Moira looked up at him. “Ye…ye dunna care. I know ye dunna. Ye only said so to keep me from flinging myself off the ledge. From ruining my aunt’s wedding. From causing more trouble for ye.”
Anger flared in his eyes, and she gasped as his hands tightened painfully on her wrists. “Is that what ye believe?” He inhaled a slow breath. “Is that what ye think of me?”
A flicker of pain came to his eyes, and Moira knew that her words had wounded him. “I didna mean to say that…that ye have no compassion. Ye’re a good man, and I thank ye for what ye did for me. But when I said that no one cared, I meant…”
His gaze softened as he watched her fumble for words, as heat stole into her cheeks and she dropped her eyes, unable to bear his nearness a moment longer.
Moira tried to step back, tried to spare herself the humiliation of having him look at her thus, but he would not release her.
“I do care for ye, Lass. Whether ye believe me or not, ‘tis the truth.”
Moira fought against the wave of warmth that flowed into her being, willing herself not to believe him, to not even hear him. Still, she could not keep herself from lifting her chin and meeting his eyes.
So grey.
And dark.
And warm.
And…
With his eyes locked on hers, he moved closer, slowly, carefully, almost like a hunter trying not to spook the deer. And then for a split second, his gaze dropped to her lips.
Moira drew in a sharp breath as his intention became clear, and for the first time that night, she was glad that he held her so tightly for if he was not, she would have sunk to the ground in a flutter of nerves.
“Tell me no,” Cormag whispered as he leant in, his large body shifting closer to hers.
Even if Moira had wanted to refuse him, she would not have been able to force words past the tightness in her throat.
All she wanted in that moment was him. His warmth. His kindness. His comfort. Everything else faded from her mind as her heart revelled in the way he drew closer and closer, his warm breath fanning over her skin. His eyes held hers, still searching, a spark of concern in them that he might be overstepping, pressuring her into something she did not want.
His consideration and respect for her felt utterly intoxicating, and Moira found herself striving toward him, lifting her head to accept his kiss.
And then he did kiss her, his lips a gentle pressure against her own, and Moira knew that she would forever remember this night. Not because she had almost given up her life, but because for the first time in years, she felt a shred of happiness.
With a sigh, she sank into his arms, which finally released her wrists and moved to wrap around her. Slowly. Hesitantly. Almost awkwardly as though he did not dare, as though he should not, as though he knew better than to allow her close.
Moira knew exactly how he felt. Words of warning echoed in her head, reminding her that opening her heart to another made her vulnerable. Still, she was powerless against the tide that swept her into his arms. Her hands lowered to rest upon his chest right above his heart, and she felt it beating almost as erratically as her own.
And then the tentative manner of his touch changed as though he had finally made up his mind. His arms pulled her deeper into his embrace, and one hand rose to brush along her jawline before his fingers slipped into her hair. As he pulled her closer still, the pad of his thumb came to rest upon her cheek, brushing gently over her skin and sending shivers down her spine.
Moira returned his kiss, marvelling at the tenderness of his touch.
What simmered between them was not blind passion−as inexperienced as she was, Moira was certain of that. No, it was more than want and desire. It was subtle. Caring. Two people reaching out to one another, offering a bit of themselves, taking a risk in the hopes that perhaps, perhaps they would find something in the other that would speak to them, that they recognised, that they had been missing without ever being aware of it.
How long they stood there in each other’s arms, gently exploring the fragile bond that had so unexpectedly formed between them, Moira did not know. However, when a crow called in the distance, its piercing shriek ripping through the haze that had shrouded them from the world around them, they almost jerked apart.
Panting, they stared at one another, a good bit of shock marking their features as the realisation of what they had done finally sank in. They had crossed a line and were no longer the people they had been before. At least not to each other.
Night had fallen, and Moira wondered how she could not have noticed.
Absentmindedly, she touched her fingers to her lips, feeling them tingle with the memory of their kiss, and found Cormag’s gaze follow her movement. As inexpressive as his face had always been, in that moment, the look of longing in his eyes took her breath away, and she all but stumbled backwards.
Instantly, his features tensed, and his hand shot forward, once more reaching for her wrist.
“There’s not need,” Moira said quickly, pulling back her arm before his fingers could touch her. “I willna…” She glanced over her shoulder at the wall in her back, knowing the abyss that awaited beyond. “I willna try again, I promise.”
For a long moment, his gaze rested on hers, once again searching, assessing, trying to determine if he could believe her, if he should. Then he exhaled slowly; nevertheless, his body remained tense as he took a step toward her. Then another until she once more felt his warm breath on her skin. “Ye are forbidden from ever venturing up here again, d’ye h
ear?”
Staring into his sharp, hawk-like eyes, Moira felt a spark of defiance spring to life. Her jaw tensed, and her eyes hardened as she fought the urge to lash out at him. Who was he to tell her what to do? If she wanted to end her life, then that was her Goddamn right! Why would he care?
And then she saw the touch of gentleness that still rested in his eyes, the way he slowly breathed in and out, strained somehow as though he was in pain, and Moira understood why he had spoken to her thus.
Because he cared.
He truly cared, did he not?
Joy surged through Moira, though it was accompanied by no small measure of disbelief and the fear to have her heart ripped from her chest should she dare to open it to another.
At her silence, his gaze hardened on hers, the hint of a threat in the way the muscles in his jaw contracted. “I swear I’ll lock ye up if I ever see ye venture this way again, is that clear?”
Suppressing another surge of joy, Moira nodded. “I swear I willna do so again.”
Cormag exhaled a long and slow breath, and she saw his shoulders relax and the tension leave his body. “If ye ever…feel overwhelmed again, Lass,” he whispered, understanding resting in those dark eyes, “then come and find me. I swear I will help ye through it.”
Staring up at him, Moira nodded, touched by his offer to be there for her. “Thank ye,” she replied, knowing that those two words fell far short of the deep gratitude she felt.
Cormag nodded. “Let me take ye home,” he said, gesturing to the door that led back downstairs. “Ye need rest.”
Moira nodded and together they crossed the stone floor and passed through the door. Heading down the spiral staircase, she noted that Cormag was careful to keep his distance. He held his large body awkwardly angled as they passed through the narrow doorway, careful not to touch her. Moira wondered why after the way he had kissed her only moments ago.
The silence that lingered between them felt oppressive, and whenever their gazes collided by accident, they quickly averted them as though burnt.