by Bree Wolf
Moira sighed.
Something had changed. As close as she had felt to Cormag up on top of the tower, now it seemed that what had happened had pushed them even further apart. Every now and then, she thought to see a desire to reclaim that closeness light up his eyes, but she could not be certain, and she did not dare ask.
All that mattered was that he had come for her. He had been the only one to notice…
Moira stopped on the last stair before reaching the ground floor as her thoughts ventured back to the events of that night.
“Are ye all right?” Cormag asked, turning back to look at her. His dark eyes swept over her face as he drew closer, his hand reaching to touch her face before he stopped himself and dropped it to his side once more.
Moira blinked. “How did ye know I was up there?” she whispered, noting the way his eyes dropped from hers for a split second. “How did ye know I was about to…?” Her gaze narrowed as she took a step toward him. “How did ye know?”
A muscle in his jaw twitched, and for a small eternity, he remained silent. “I…I saw ye,” he finally said, his voice slightly hoarse. “From down in the courtyard.” Then he took a step back, gesturing for her to follow him down the corridor to the side door that would lead them outside.
Slowly, Moira put one foot in front of the other, her mind churning with the subtle reactions she had observed in him, for although his words seemed honest, she could not shake the feeling that they were incomplete.
As they stepped out into the courtyard, Moira lifted her head and glanced up at the tall tower and the parapet wall where she had stood not long ago, ready to end her pitiful existence once and for all. It looked tall and threatening, but not as tall and threatening as it had from up there, and a shudder gripped her, making her hands grasp her arms in a sad imitation of a hug.
“Are ye cold?” Cormag asked, watching her as intently as he had before.
Moira shook her head, wishing she would not have to hug herself, wishing he would pull her into his arms once more. So warm and comforting and safe.
Cormag’s eyes swept over her face, and he took a step closer, his hand rising as though to grasp her chin. Unfortunately, he once again thought better of it, his feet stopping mere inches from her. “Ye look shaken,” he whispered, concern etched into his grey eyes. “Ye need rest.”
Turning toward him, Moira allowed herself to simply look. Her eyes traced the line of his jaw, touched upon the curve of his lips and travelled upward to meet his gaze. He was like a book written in a language she could not understand; yet, there was something in the words before her that her heart recognised. “There’s something ye’re not saying,” she told him, not surprised to see an almost imperceptible jerk in his shoulders. “What made ye look for me? Tell me the truth.”
15
For the Good of the Clan
Cold fear gripped Cormag’s heart as her words echoed in his head.
Never had he revealed his gift to anyone. Never. Only his father had ever truly known, and he had been the one to grasp the meaning of Cormag’s odd behaviour as a lad. He had been the one to see, to look deeper and understand. There had been no need for Cormag to confide in him because he had simply known. The way fathers sometimes did.
Cormag had never been more grateful in his life.
“Why can ye not tell me?” Moira whispered, curiosity shining in her deep blue eyes as they travelled over his face, lingering here and there, almost a caress that he felt against his skin. Instantly, his body warmed, and the memory of their kiss resurfaced. His gaze dropped lower, and from the way she inhaled a quivering breath, he knew that she had guessed the direction of his thoughts.
Curse him! Why had he kissed her? Emotional entanglements only complicated matters, and now more than ever, he needed to keep a clear head. Especially with Moira, for he could not be certain how she felt. Even more so tonight, for the ordeal she had been through had clearly shaken her to her core.
If her mind had not been overshadowed, would she have refused him? Had she only accepted his kiss because he had been the one to find her? Because she had so desperately needed someone−anyone! −to care?
“Ye need not worry,” he told her, hoping to put her mind at ease, “I willna…cross the line again.”
At his words, she blinked a couple of times as though stunned or confused by what he had said. Then something in her changed. Her hands fell from her arms and came to rest on her sides, her chin rising a notch as her eyes reached for his, a demand in them that had not been there before. “Will ye not answer me then?”
“Answer ye?” he asked, trying to buy time, knowing exactly what she wanted to know.
A teasing smile flashed across her face as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened that night. “Ye know what I mean,” she stated, and her gaze narrowed, trying to look deeper. “Ye’re a very secretive man, Cormag MacDrummond.”
Surprised by the lightness of her tone, Cormag nodded. “Aye.”
“Ye never share much of yerself.”
He simply held her gaze.
Inhaling a slow breath, Moira took a step forward, her blue eyes serious as she looked at him. “I thank ye for what ye did for me tonight. I never would’ve expected it, and…and it felt good.” A shy smile teased the corners of her mouth. “If ye…ever change yer mind, ye’ll know where to find me as well.” A soft smile played on her lips, and she reached out and cupped a hand to his cheek. “Thank ye for finding me.”
Then Moira stepped back and walked away, her feet carrying her across the courtyard and out the gate toward the small cottage that would be hers alone from this day on.
Cormag stared after her, his muscles painfully tense as he fought the urge to follow her, to break his promise only moments after he had given it. Not in a long time had his own emotions overwhelmed him thus. It had only ever been those of others that had overcome his heart, forcing him to fight to stay in control. Never had it been his own heart that had urged him down a different path than his mind considered reasonable.
She cares for ye as ye care for her.
Cormag frowned at the echo of his mother’s voice, once again wondering why he would hear her in such a moment. Certainly, his mother tended to interfere, to meddle; however, he had never put much stock in her strong opinions. Why on earth would his subconscious force him to hear her now?
Feeling the tension of the evening catch up with him, Cormag rubbed a hand over his face, then turned and headed back inside. The wedding celebration was still in full swing, and he stole a glance at Fiona and Duncan their faces aglow with happiness.
Then he retired to his chamber, his own heart and mind still in turmoil over what had happened, over what he had felt that night, over what he had done. He had allowed himself to act upon his emotions, to feel them so deeply that he had not been able to keep them at bay.
Standing with his hands braced on the cold windowsill, Cormag stared out into the darkened night and finally admitted to himself that he had kissed Moira because he had wanted to. Not because he had wanted to prove to her that she was not alone, that someone cared. Not because he had responded to her need for comfort and warmth. But because he had wanted to. Because he truly cared for her.
Cormag hung his head, fearing what these emotions might do to his judgement. For the good of the clan, he needed to ensure he was in control. He always needed to keep his wits and ensure that he could make wise decisions.
And he feared he would not be able to do so when his heart longed for Moira. He needed to keep his distance, to regain his balance and ensure that his mind was unaffected by what had happened this night.
Even though his heart cringed at the very thought of it.
All through the next day, Cormag considered what to do about Moira’s latest request, trying to determine if he desired to grant it merely because he desired her. He paced the floor of his study until he felt certain the rock would break away and a hole would open underneath him. He did his best to consider
this case from all sides, recalled Finn’s as well as Ian’s arguments, tried his best to weigh them and put them in perspective.
And then a knock sounded on the door.
“Aye,” he called, feeling his heart pause in his chest as a desperate hope burnt through his body. It had been hours since he had last seen her, and a part of him could not bear to be away from her a moment longer.
Cormag cursed under his breath the moment Moira opened the door and stepped across the threshold. Seeing him, she frowned. “Are ye all right?” she asked, closing the door and plunging him into a world where no one existed but them.
Cormag swallowed. “I should be the one to ask that.”
She inhaled a slow breath, a slight nod moving her chin up and down. “I suppose ye’re right.” Walking past him, she stopped in front of the window, her eyes sweeping over the green hills. “’Twas strange to sleep in that cottage all by myself,” she whispered, a slight catch in her voice. “I never thought I’d miss her even during the night.”
Cormag did not know what to say for anything he could say would once again weaken the barrier he fought to re-establish between them.
“Have ye made a decision yet?” Moira asked before she slowly turned around, her sky-blue eyes settling on his. The sun behind her glinted on her golden curls, making her shine in a way that tugged on Cormag’s heart.
He cleared his throat. “I have not.”
“Why?”
He shrugged, his hands gesturing without thought. “Because I fear it will split my clan in two.”
Sighing, Moira nodded her understanding. “I dunna know the burden ye carry,” she said, her voice soft and awfully enthralling as she ventured toward him, “and I know that one’s own judgement can be…wrong,” a shadow crossed over her face, “but if ye trust yerself, then ye know what to do.” A half-smile touched her lips. “What is right is right, and that doesna change simply because others disagree.”
Cormag nodded. “Aye, there’s truth in yer words, but that doesna mean the consequences willna be dire.”
“Do ye truly believe sending Garrett help will divide yer clan?”
“I dunna know what Ian will do,” Cormag whispered, “but I worry.”
“What if I,” her voice broke off and a slight shiver gripped her before she continued on, “if I left?” Moira’s eyes were round as they held his, unshed tears brimming in their corners. “With me gone, Ian would have no reason to speak ill of ye.”
“No!” The vehemence of his response startled Cormag as much as her, and he felt his teeth pressing painfully together as he fought to calm the beating of his heart.
“But if it would help?” Moira watched him with wide eyes. “I don’t belong here. Nothing would be lost if I−”
“No!” Striding forward, Cormag reached for her, gripping her arms the way he had the night before. “Ye willna leave. Promise me that ye willna leave!”
“Why?” she gasped, her chest rising and falling with each rapid breath as her eyes held his, demanding an answer. “Why do ye want me here?”
Cormag felt the barrier between them crumble to the ground, and he groaned at the mistake he knew he had made. Like his clan, he too felt divided, his heart and mind pulling him in different directions, and he knew not what to do.
What he needed was clarity, balance, distance, peace of mind; something he knew was impossible with Moira in his arms, her soft breath fanning over his skin and her warmth setting his blood on fire. Those deep blue eyes were his undoing, and he felt weakened to his core.
So, he lied.
For the good of the clan.
“‘Tis as ye said,” he whispered, taking a step back as his hands fell from her arms. “Ye’re…” His gaze dropped from hers as he found himself unable to force the words past his lips while she was looking at him with such faith. “Ye’re my responsibility, and ‘tis my duty to look after ye, to ensure yer safety.”
Cormag did not dare look at her face, and so he stepped past her and strode to the window. Still, he could hear the soft exhale of air as though his words had shocked her. Had they? He wondered. Did it truly matter to her what he thought?
“I swear I spoke the truth,” she said after a while, her voice now taut and slightly hoarse. “If ye dunna wish for Garrett to lose the woman…the woman he loves, then ye need to send help as ye would have if Garrett had sent a messenger, asking for the support of his clan. Only he canna because he doesna yet know that he’ll be needing it, and once he does, it’ll be too late.” She retreated a few steps toward the door. “There, that’s all I came to say. The choice is yers.”
Then Moira turned on her heel, and Cormag heard her cross the short distance to the door before pulling it open. “Oh!” she exclaimed, surprise quickening her breath.
Cormag spun around, relieved to see that it was only Finn who stood in the doorway, his green eyes travelling from Moira to him. “I hope I’m not interrupting,” he said, a teasing gleam in his eyes that made Cormag worry that his partiality toward Moira was slowly becoming known.
“Not at all.” Clearing his throat, Cormag greeted his friend. “What can I do for ye?”
“I came to ask if ye’d made a decision yet,” Finn said, stepping across the threshold as his gaze continued to drift back and forth between him and Moira. “About Garrett.”
As much as Cormag feared the consequences of his decision, he had known from the start that he could not refuse his help, not to Garrett of all people. And the truth of the matter was that he believed Moira. More than that. He knew that she spoke the truth, and he could not in good conscience rob his friend of the woman he loved. He had kept him from going after her for far too long−for his own selfish reasons−and now he owed Garrett his support.
“I have,” Cormag said, straightening as he faced his friend, ignoring the wide-open gaze Moira bestowed upon him. “Send word to Clan McKinnear. Ask them to ready a ship.” He paused, then turned to Moira, willing himself not to see the soft glow that shone in her eyes. “Where?”
“Port Glasgow,” she replied, biting her lower lip as it began to quiver.
Cormag swallowed and quickly turned back to Finn. “Port Glasgow then. Ask them to make haste. Ye’ll know best who to address.”
Finn nodded. He had spent some time living with their allies in the past years, running away from his feelings for Emma, believing them to be one-sided. How wrong he had been!
Cormag sighed, “Ian willna be happy to hear this.”
“I’ll talk to him,” Finn promised, the look on his face one of quiet assurance. “I believe ‘twould be best if he and I headed down to Glasgow as well, to meet the McKinnears and to speak to Garrett.” He sighed, “Perhaps ‘twill help Ian see that she is not a witch.” He grinned, looking at Moira. “At least, not an evil one.” Then he turned and strode from the room to complete the task he had been given.
“I like him,” Moira whispered before her eyes rose to look at Cormag. “He has a kind heart.”
Cormag nodded. “He’s a good friend. Has been all my life.”
“So has Ian.” A sigh escaped her lips. “I’m sorry that I came between ye.” She paused, and her lower lip quivered once more. “Perhaps ye should reconsider. Perhaps ‘twould be better if I left. Perhaps there’s another clan or…”
Her voice trailed off as Cormag stalked closer, his eyes fixed on hers. “Ye willna leave, and that is final.” He felt a muscle in his jaw twitch as he fought to stay in control−at least as much as that was possible at this point. “If ye try, I swear I will come after ye and drag ye back here. Is that clear?”
The ghost of a smile teased her lips. “I’d miss ye, too.”
16
Hope & Fear
Seated in the shade of her small grove, Moira lifted her chin when voices trailed near. Looking up, she spotted Emma and Maggie walking arm in arm down the meadow toward the small stream, Blair and Niall racing ahead. Their heads were bent toward one another, and Moira could see their lips movi
ng as they no doubt discussed a confidential matter.
Moira sighed. She missed her sister-in-law Deidre, who had been a loyal friend and confidante all her life. Always had Deidre known when something was weighing on Moira’s heart, and she had poked and prodded in her own gentle way until Moira had felt compelled to confide in her friend.
And it had always eased the burden upon her heart.
Watching the two women, Moira flinched when Emma’s gaze rose and suddenly met hers. Quickly, she averted her eyes, pretending to pick grass off her skirts lest the two women think her intrusive.
“Moira!”
At the sound of her name, Moira felt a cold chill grip her shoulders, and her muscles tensed as though preparing for an attack. It had become second nature to her, and although Ian had reluctantly accompanied Finn on his way to Glasgow, her instincts still responded as though he could come upon her at any moment.
Swallowing, Moira carefully lifted her chin and found Maggie and Emma looking at her, their faces smiling, before Maggie waved, gesturing for Moira to join them. A shiver went down Moira’s back at the invitation, and she knew not whether to give in to joy or rather err on the side of caution. Still, the promise of companionship was none Moira could ignore, and so she pushed to her feet and walked over to the two friends.
“Would ye like to join us at the stream?” Maggie asked, nodding toward the spot where Niall and Blair were splashing one another. “Perhaps somewhere drier.”
Emma laughed, “But I still want to dip in my feet. The afternoon sun’s awful hot.”
Moira looked from one to the other. “I dunna wish to intrude.”
“Oh, but ye’re not,” Maggie exclaimed, and without another word, she slipped her other arm through Moira’s and pulled her along as they proceeded down toward the refreshing riverbed.
“Careful, ye wee fishies,” Maggie called to her children. “The rocks can be slippery.”