by Bree Wolf
Niall and Blair nodded their heads in affirmation and then continued to run and skid as before.
Moving a bit farther downstream, the three women sat down in the shade of a large oak and after slipping off their shoes and stockings dipped their heated feet into the cooling stream.
“Ah!” Maggie sighed as she leant back and closed her eyes. “Wake me when the sun goes down.”
Emma chuckled, “And who will watch yer wee fishies in the meantime?”
“Ye,” Maggie replied, propping herself up onto her elbows. “It’ll be good practise for ye before yer wee one gets here.”
Moira froze, and her gaze snapped to Emma before it fell from her eyes and dropped down to her flat belly. “Are ye…?” Then she caught herself. “I’m sorry. I didna mean to−”
“’Tis all right,” Emma exclaimed, waving her concerns away. “I’m not certain yet, but…” A smile tugged on her lips as her hand fell to her midsection. “I hope and wish that ‘tis true.”
Moira smiled at her. “Ye’ll make a wonderful mother, and Finn’ll make a wonderful father. Ye’ll have a verra happy baby.”
Emma looked at her with glowing eyes. “I spoke to Maggie,” she all but whispered, casting a sideways glance at her friend. “She told me that she never asked ye to send me out for more branches that night in the hall. The night Finn found me and asked me to marry him.”
A question clung to her words, and Moira bowed her head, unable to ignore the sense of apprehension that came over her at the thought that someone might disapprove of her interference. Still, the joy and gratitude on Emma’s face soon put her fears to rest. “Aye, I mightna have spoken completely truthfully. I hope ye can forgive me.”
Emma laughed, “There’s nothing to forgive. Without ye, who knows what would’ve happened? If Finn and I had ever found the courage to admit how we truly felt?” A deep sigh left her lips. “I’m verra grateful to ye, and I’m sorry I havena said so earlier.” She reached out and squeezed Moira’s hand. “I know that yer beginning here with us has not been easy−”
“I dunna blame anyone for mistrusting me,” Moira objected, touched by Emma’s kindness. “After all, I’ve earned the reputation I have.”
“Still,” Maggie agreed before she exchanged another meaningful glance with her friend, “ye’ve worked hard to redeem yerself, and we believe that ye’ve done so. Give it time, and ye’ll see that more will come to trust ye, to see that we all make mistakes−some graver than others, I grant ye that, but mistakes nonetheless.” Maggie smiled at her in that warm and utterly enchanting way. “Ye’ll see all will be well.”
Moira pressed her lips together as tears threatened to burst forth, and her heart ached with such longing that she knew not how to contain it. “Thank ye,” she whispered, and her jaw trembled with the overwhelming relief to have found acceptance. Perhaps even friendship.
Emma squeezed her hand, and Maggie reached out to take her other. “Dunna mind my husband,” Maggie counselled. “He’s angry because of me, not ye. Ye’ll see that we’re not the only ones who have come to care for ye.”
Emma nodded in agreement. “Finn spoke highly of ye before he left for Glasgow. He said there’s honesty in yer eyes, and compassion.” A teasing smile touched her lips. “He said that Cormag has noticed it as well.”
While Moira felt herself still, shock freezing her limbs, Maggie laughed loudly. “I reckon he’s noticed more than her honesty and compassion.”
Emma nodded in agreement. “Aye, he seems verra…aware of ye. Always.”
Moira swallowed, remembering how Cormag had spoken to her only a few days ago. “Nay, he’s merely kind. I admit I’m surprised that he would heed my advice, but ‘tis all there is.”
“I dunna believe so,” Maggie objected, shaking her head so her auburn curls danced from side to side.
“But he’s told me so himself,” Moira disagreed, terrified by the small spark of hope once more igniting deep in her chest. “I’m a duty to him, nothing more. After all, I’m…I’m an outcast. I canna expect−”
“Around the time ye came here,” Maggie interrupted, “there were whispers that Cormag intended to wed the daughter of the McKinnear laird.”
Every fibre in Moira’s body stilled as she turned to stare at Maggie.
“And then from one day to the next, he seemed to have…changed his mind.” Maggie shrugged, her blue eyes holding Moira’s. “There was no more talk, and ever since, he’s been…keeping his distance from Clan McKinnear as though worried that the old clan chief would hold it against him that he all but snubbed his daughter.” A teasing smile curled up Maggie’s lips. “I wonder why he did that. What changed his mind.”
Moira felt her heart thudding wildly in her chest, and for a second, she thought she needed to lie down as the world began to blur before her eyes. Joy and fear and hope and terror surged to the surface, mingling in her heart, her mind, her soul until she no longer knew what to fear or hope for. All she remembered was the vehemence in Cormag’s voice when he had told her not to go.
“Has he never said anything to ye?” Emma asked gently.
Maggie scoffed, “He’s not the type to reveal what’s in his heart. It’ll have to be ye, Lass. If ye want him, ye’ll have to be the one to take charge.”
Overwhelmed, Moira leant back against the oak’s thick trunk, almost grateful when Blair slipped and fell, howling loudly and clutching her knee. Instantly, Maggie and Emma scrambled to their feet and hurried over to her, inspecting the reddened skin and soothing the girl’s tears.
In a daze, Moira sat in the grass, her heart and mind returning to the few moments she had spent with Cormag. Always had she felt an odd pull to inch closer, to sink into his arms and share with him her greatest fears and joys. She remembered the way he had kissed her, held her, full of tenderness and concern. That night, he had come upon her in a moment when she had needed him most, when no one else had even noticed her absence. How had he noticed? What had made him search for her?
Whatever it was, Moira was glad that he had for despite the darkness that had consumed her that night, deep down, Moira wanted to live…
…and love…
…and be loved.
If only there was a chance for them. If only Maggie and Emma were right.
If only!
Moira was so lost in her thoughts that she barely noticed how the time passed. Only when Maggie put a hand on her shoulder did she return to the here and now. Her chin jerked up, and she stared at the auburn-haired woman.
“’Tis almost supper time,” Maggie said with a knowing smile. “Time to head home.”
Nodding, Moira pushed to her feet and joined the other four on their way up the slope toward Seann Dachaigh Tower. As they approached the small village, the children ran ahead, and Maggie and Emma squeezed Moira’s hand in a friendly goodbye as well as a promise that more days like this would come.
A warm smile clung to her lips as Moira walked up the narrow path to her aunt’s cottage, a cottage that was now hers. The sun shone red in the sky, casting a warm glow over the land, and the scent of wildflowers lingered in the air.
Indeed, today had been a good day, and Moira hoped with all her heart that more like it would follow.
At the sound of a soft neigh, Moira frowned and looked up to see a chestnut mare tied to the pole outside her front door. Instantly, her feet stopped, and she felt every muscle in her body tense. Who had come to see her? And for what reason?
Swallowing the dread that had lodged in her throat, Moira carefully stepped forward and around the horse before her gaze fell on the small patch of white hair on the mare’s left flank. It looked like a star and Moira had seen it many times before.
Her heart soared upward as she hastened on, her eyes searching for the gentle face she longed to see.
And then her wide eyes fell on the small bench by the front door and the young woman sitting there.
“’Tis about time,” Deidre exclaimed as she surged to her feet
. “It feels as though I’ve been waiting for hours.” And then she flung herself into Moira’s arms, hugging her with a fierceness that belied her slender form.
Shaking, Moira clung to her childhood friend as tears streamed down her face. Three years had passed since they had last seen each other, and yet, Deidre embraced her with a familiarity that took her breath away. A familiarity born out of shared memories. Memories that were alive today as much as they had been then.
“I’ve missed ye,” Deidre whispered, her slender arms wrapped tightly around Moira.
Sinking her teeth into her bottom lip against the sob that threatened to escape, Moira buried her face in her friend’s hair, her own arms tightening their hold as well. “I’ve missed ye, too,” she whispered after a while, her jaw quivering with the emotions that assailed her. “I’ve missed ye every day for the past three years.”
17
A Friend’s Return
Long into the night, Moira and Deidre sat in the little kitchen, unable to part ways no matter how much exhaustion tugged on their lids. Covering her mouth, Moira yawned and then lit another candle, dreading the moment they would have to cut their reunion short and head to bed. “And ye truly didna tell Alastair ye intended to come here?”
Deidre smiled, her warm eyes glowing in the dim light. “He wouldna have let me.”
“He can be a bit boorish that brother of mine,” Moira said with great affection, wondering if the abyss between her and Alastair could still be bridged.
Deidre chuckled, “Naw, not at all. ‘Tis simply that…that I’m his greatest weakness,” she whispered, a deep sigh leaving her lips. “He fears for me for he wouldna survive if something were to happen to me, and he’s been on the brink of losing me more often than anyone ever should be. He’s terrified.”
Moira nodded, remembering how often Deidre had almost lost her life trying to fulfil her greatest wish: becoming a mother. She had miscarried countless times, and two or three times it had seemed as though she would not recover.
Alastair had been beside himself with worry. His face haggard and his eyes bloodshot, he had refused to leave her side, barely eating or sleeping, his hands clinging to the woman he loved as though he could keep her alive by sheer willpower alone.
“I’m with child again.”
Moira’s head snapped up at Deidre’s softly spoken words, and cold fear gripped her heart. “No!” The word flew from her lips without thought, echoing the panic that swept through her being at the thought of losing her friend, her sister.
An indulgent smile played on Deidre’s lips. “I know ye fear for me, but I…” Sighing, she shook her head, unable to explain the deep longing that lived in her heart. “I canna not be a mother,” she whispered, tears misting her eyes. “I have to try.”
Nodding, Moira reached for Deidre’s hand. “I know,” she murmured, looking into her eyes. She had always known. If there was a woman destined to be a mother, it was Deidre. Still, it seemed that Fate saw fit to play a cruel trick on her, granting her children and then ripping them away. It was a harsh life, and Moira knew that it had crippled her brother and his wife. Still, the love they had for one another lived on, untouched by the cruelty of Fate.
It had always been an inspiration to Moira. Ever since her brother had gone against their parents’ wishes and married his delicate and seemingly fragile wife, Moira had dreamed of a love like theirs. For a long time, she had thought Connor was the man who would claim her heart.
Now, she knew better.
That night, Moira slept like a rock, exhausted from the emotional turmoil of the day before. However, upon waking, her memories reminded her of Deidre’s presence, and she jump from her bed with a smile on her face.
“Ye look famished,” Deidre commented when Moira finally stepped into the small kitchen, the aroma of hot tea welcoming her.
“Aye. Have ye been up long?”
Handing Moira a cup, Deidre sank into the chair opposite her, arms folded on the tabletop. “I always have a hard time sleeping without Alastair by my side.” A look of utter longing came to her eyes. “It feels as though a part of me is missing.”
Moira smiled. “I reckon he’ll come for ye soon.”
Laughing, Deidre nodded, the look on her face far from disapproving. “As soon as he returns to Greyston Castle and learns that I’ve left, he’ll have a fit.”
“Especially when he learns where ye went.”
Reaching out, Deidre placed a hand on Moira’s. “Make no mistake, yer brother loves ye fiercely, and he’s suffered greatly these past three years. Yer loss pains him, believe me.” A soft smile touched her lips. “I often find him down by the Falls.”
Moira’s heart tightened as hope assailed her anew. “Truly?”
Deidre nodded. “Truly.”
Sighing, Moira closed her eyes, savouring the moment. Again, she saw the thin waterfall as it cascaded down a steep rock wall, pooling into a small stream that snaked its way through the meadows near Greystone Castle.
As children, Connor, Alastair, Deidre and Moira had dared each other to jump off the steep cliff. Not one of them ever had, though, knowing that such a fall would be almost impossible to survive. Still, it had been a game of childhood days long gone, and Moira remembered well how her older brother had taught her how to swim in the shallower areas of the stream. When she had grown more proficient, Alastair had attached a long rope to a thick branch reaching far into the stream on which they had swung across.
Now and then, they had not made it, but landed in the stream, sputtering and laughing.
Indeed, the Falls was a place that for Moira was irrevocably tied to her brother, and it seemed that he too felt that way.
“Thank ye,” Moira whispered, squeezing Deidre’s hand in gratitude for her words had bestowed a priceless gift.
Deidre nodded, then rose and reached for the plates of food she had prepared. “Let’s break our fast and then go for a stroll. I long to see where ye’ve lived these past three years.”
The grass was soft under their feet as the two women ventured along the bank of the small stream where Moira had sat with Maggie and Emma only the day before. She spied Niall and Blair and their friends splashing in the waters once more, now and then casting curious glances at Moira and her visitor.
“They remind me of us,” Deidre whispered, her eyes watching the children longingly. “We were like them once, weren’t we? Without a care in the world.”
Moira nodded, feeling her heart yearn for those simple days long gone.
“I meant to ask ye something.”
Turning to look at Deidre, Moira noted the way her friend’s gaze had become downcast, her eyes tracing the way the tall grass swayed in the soft breeze. Her chest rose and fell with a deep breath, and her right hand settled protectively over her flat belly. Then Deidre lifted her gaze and looked at Moira.
“I know what ye wish to ask,” Moira replied, feeling a stab of pain at the helplessness that seized her, “and I’m sorry, but I didna see anything that would lay yer fears to rest.”
Swallowing, Deidre nodded, unable to keep the disappointment she felt from showing in her eyes. “I knew ‘twas unlikely,” she murmured, “but I had to ask.”
Moira reached out and took her hand. “I would’ve written to ye, and I will if anything changes.”
Deidre nodded. “I know. I never thought ye wouldna.” A small smile came to her lips. “’Tis only I wanted to see ye.”
“I’m glad ye came,” Moira told her, gently pulling her friend into her arms. “I wanted to see ye as well.”
For a long time, they stood on the stream’s bank, savouring the feel of one another, the closeness, the comfort, the familiarity that needed no words before Deidre’s head lifted off Moira’s shoulder. “Someone is watching us.”
“What?” Moira tensed, panic seizing her body. “Where?” Had Ian returned already?
Deidre stood back and then nodded her head toward the castle. “There, on the wall-walk.”
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Moira’s heart paused, but this time not with fear but with hope.
“What is it?” Deidre asked, her eyes narrowing as she searched Moira’s face. “Ye look…There’s something in yer eyes that…” Shock dropped her jaw. “Are ye in love?”
Heat shot into Moira’s cheeks, and she immediately turned away, quick strides carrying her along the stream’s bank. “That’s nonsense! There’s no one−”
“Then why are ye running away?” Deidre demanded, a teasing chuckle in her voice as she came rushing after her. “And yer face is burning like a flame.” Grabbing Moira’s arm, Deidre pulled her to a halt, then stepped around her, trying to look up into her face. “Why would ye run from it? Clearly, he cares for ye as well. Why else would he watch ye?”
Feeling Deidre’s eyes on her, Moira closed hers, knowing that she could not lie to her oldest friend. Not because it would be wrong, but because Deidre knew her too well. “Ye’re mistaken,” Moira said nonetheless and met her sister-in-law’s gaze. “He doesna care for me. I’m a duty, nothing more. A clan matter.”
Deidre frowned. “How would ye know?”
“He told me so himself.”
Her friend laughed, “Then ‘tis probably not true.”
Goose bumps shot up and down Moira’s arms. “Cormag wouldna care for me,” she said, trying to convince her friend as much as herself. “He’s much too−”
“Cormag?” Deidre frowned. “The laird?”
Moira nodded. “I…I told him about my dreams.”
Deidre’s eyes went wide.
“I had no choice. I needed his help.”
“And did he grant it?” her friend asked, almost holding her breath.
Unable to fight it, Moira felt a small smile claim her lips. “He did,” she murmured. “I think he truly believes me.”
“That’s good,” Deidre exclaimed, a broad smile on her face as she grasped Moira’s hands. “Why would ye think he couldna care for ye?”
Closing her eyes, Moira resigned herself to her fate and began to tell Deidre everything that had happened since the moment she had first set foot in Seann Dachaigh Tower three years ago.