Banished & Welcomed: The Laird's Reckless Wife (Love's Second Chance Book 14)

by Bree Wolf

  “Ye knew where I was,” she mumbled, oddly enough drawn back to the night of her breakdown. “Ye knew to look for me. Ye knew that…” She stepped forward, lifting her hands and settling them on his chest, urging him to look at her. “How?”

  His jaw clenched, his lips pressing into a thin line. Still, there was something in his eyes that whispered of the desire to place his trust in her, to confide in her.

  Moving closer still, Moira felt her heart beat fiercely, wondering if his did so as well. Therefore, she shifted her right hand, slid it sideways over his chest until it felt the powerful beats of a heart in turmoil.

  He held his breath, his eyes watching her carefully.

  Searching his face, Moira whispered, “Do ye see things as well?” Under her hand, his heart skipped a beat, and her eyes went wide as he paled. “Do ye?”

  Gritting his teeth, Cormag closed his eyes, a battle waging over his features. “I dunna,” he finally said, his grey gaze once more settling on hers. “But I feel things.”

  20

  Window of Opportunity

  With wide eyes, Moira stared up at him, her hands still resting on his chest. He felt her soft weight leaning into him and fought the urge to close his arms around her and rest his forehead against hers. He remembered well the afternoon they had stood out in the small clearing in the woods when her brother had left, reducing her to tears. He remembered how he had held her, overwhelmed by the trust she had placed in him to allow him to see her so vulnerable. In her moment of need, she had turned to him, sharing her pain and allowing him to comfort her.

  Did he dare do the same? Share what he had never shared with anyone?

  “Tell me,” Moira whispered as her eyes roamed his face as though she could see the answer if she looked hard enough.

  Cormag swallowed, knowing that if anyone could understand, it was she. “My father called me an empath,” he forced out through gritted teeth, his jaw clenching as panic over what he was doing began to spread through him. “I feel what others around me feel as though their emotions were my own.”

  Her wide eyes widened even more before a touch of red spread to her cheeks, darkening her fair skin, and for a moment, she dropped her gaze in embarrassment. “Ye can…Ye can feel what I feel?” When he remained quiet, her eyes rose to meet his.

  Cormag exhaled a slow breath. “I canna.”

  She frowned. “But ye said that−”

  “I can feel everyone’s feelings…but yers.”

  A mixture of relief and disappointment swept over her face, and Cormag marvelled at how well he had learnt to read her, even without his gift. “Why not mine?”

  Indeed, why not?

  Afraid to answer that question, Cormag shrugged. “I dunno.” Then he took a step back and her hands fell from his chest. Instantly, he wanted them back, wanted to feel her warmth again, but he did not dare. If she knew…

  But he pushed that thought away, afraid to admit even to himself how deeply she affected him. “I need to go,” he said instead, desperate to put distance between them, and yet, the thought of leaving her side brought regret to his heart and a longing that grew with each passing day.

  Leaving her behind, Cormag strode from his study, his steps quickening as he passed through the great hall. Then he stepped outside into the sunlight, and his eyes fell on Garrett, carrying a small bundle in his arms as he peered up at the window to his chamber. Following his gaze, Cormag saw a dark-haired woman look back at him before she vanished from sight.

  As Garrett turned toward the gate, Cormag went after him, calling his name. Instantly, his friend stopped, then looked back to watch his approach.

  “Welcome back,” Cormag greeted him, feeling as though the balance between them had changed now that Garrett was a husband and father.

  “Thank ye. ‘Tis good to be home.” The usual smile rested on Garrett’s face, and Cormag was relieved to see that Moira had indeed been right. His friend looked utterly besotted.

  Happy beyond all measure.

  Inhaling a slow breath, Cormag glanced down at the small bundle in Garrett’s arm, a tiny face peeking out from under the blanket. “Ye have a son,” was all he said, was all he could say as an image of his father rose before him, and his heart ached for the man’s counsel.

  Cormag had been a son once. As had Garrett, and now his friend was a father himself.

  “Congratulations.” Pushing away all thoughts of what he had lost, Cormag instead focused on that which he could change. “I’d expected ye to come and see me after ye’d returned.”

  Garrett nodded. “I meant to, but when I approached yer door, I heard voices.” Cormag froze, his iron will forcing his face to remain expressionless. Had Garrett heard him speak to Moira? Had he heard how he had revealed to her that…? “I did not wish to intrude, so I decided to take my son for a walk first.”

  A moment of silence lingered before Cormag asked, “Would ye mind if I accompanied ye?”

  Together, the two men walked out of the gate, and Cormag followed as Garrett’s feet turned toward the small hill he had often sought ever since he had been a lad. Walking, Garrett slightly bounced in his step, carefully rocking his son as the boy closed his eyes, a wide yawn stretching across his face.

  It was a peaceful sight, and surprisingly, it calmed the turmoil in Cormag’s heart.

  Standing on the soft grass as the wind tugged on their clothes, Cormag welcomed the silent companionship he had always shared with Garrett. Words were not needed. Still, the presence of someone he trusted felt soothing and helped Cormag regain his balance.

  “I wanted to thank ye,” Garrett said after a while as he glanced down at his sleeping child. “Without Clan MacKinnear, I wouldna have been able to retrieve my wife and son.”

  With his gaze fixed on Seann Dachaigh Tower, Cormag wondered what would have happened if Moira had not interfered. Would Garrett ever even have met his wife? Would Fate have found a different way to bring them together? Or was that why Moira had received her gift? To lend a hand? Was she part of the universal order that stretched across the world?

  “Finn said ‘twas Moira who insisted ye send for them,” Garrett continued, his eyes watchful, and Cormag remembered well the hint of suspicion in his friend’s gaze when Cormag had spoken to him of Moira’s gift.

  “Her reasoning was sound,” he replied, willing himself to remain immobile, to not reveal his own emotional involvement in this matter. Indeed, he had ventured from the path of reason he had always pursued for far too long, and it was imperative that he found his way back.

  Garrett chuckled, “Ian disagreed.”

  “Ian always disagrees,” Cormag replied, surprised by the vehemence of his feelings. What would he do about his old friend? He could not allow him to harm Moira, and neither could he allow Ian to suffer the way he did for the rest of his life. Something had to be done.

  “I keep thinking,” Garrett began as his gaze returned to the ancient castle they called home, “that if I had gone to Gretna Green a day early or a day late, I would never even have met Claudia. The thought sends a chill down my spine. She almost slipped through my fingers, and I would never even have known what I would have lost.” He looked down at his son. “Sometimes there is only a small window of opportunity, and sometimes the one person who completes us has been right there by our side for a long time. Still, no opportunity lasts forever. Eventually, it is lost.”

  Even though Garrett spoke without referring to anyone, Cormag well understood the advice meant for him. Garrett knew, or at least he suspected, and this was his way of offering his counsel, knowing well that a direct approach would only result in him banging his head against the wall Cormag had built around himself long ago.

  So far, the only one to breach it had been Moira.

  Was she the one person who completed him? Was this, here, now, his window of opportunity to ensure she would not slip through his fingers? What if one day she decided to leave after all, refusing to abide by his word? Would he fo
rce her to stay or allow her to choose her own path?

  The more his thoughts circled around Moira, the more Cormag felt his balance slip away, and he all but bowed his head in defeat. “I have business to attend to,” he heard himself say before taking a step back and leaving Garrett and his son to enjoy the cooling breeze of the late afternoon.

  Garrett is in love, Cormag mused as his feet carried him homeward, and yet, he seems calm, balanced, at peace. How is this possible?

  21

  Welcome Home

  The whole castle was abuzz with Garrett’s return, and Moira watched as men and women and children rushed around the courtyard, preparing a spontaneous feast to welcome the young family home. Tables were set up in the great hall, and once again, Maggie flitted about the vaulted room, decorating with what she had at hand, while Mrs. Brown slaved in the kitchen.

  When Moira entered the hot, steaming room with additional herbs, the older woman’s face was flushed, and her breath came in rapid gasps as she wiped sweat from her brows.

  “Oh, thank ye, dear!” she exclaimed, all but jerking the small bags filled with dried herbs out of Moira’s hands. “I’ll forever be grateful to ye.” And then she turned around and Moira knew she was dismissed as the stout cook began sniffing the small pouches, determining how to use their contents.

  On her way back through the great hall, Moira smiled at Maggie, who stood with her hands on her hips, her eyes slightly narrowed as she surveyed her handiwork. “’Twas not enough time,” she mumbled, her eyes sweeping over the flower bouquets and garlands she had fashioned from the armfuls of picked flowers and branches the children had gathered for her.

  “Ye did a fine job,” Moira told her, seeing the slight tension in Maggie’s shoulders. “’Tis beautiful.”

  Looking up, Maggie smiled; still, her gaze held doubt. “D’ye truly think so?” She put a finger to her lips and glanced around once more. “I feel as though there’s something I’m forgetting.”

  Moira laughed, “Nay, ‘tis truly beautiful. They’ll love it.”

  Maggie exhaled the breath she had been holding, and finally her shoulders relaxed as she smiled up at Moira. “Thank ye.” She chuckled, “I know I can get a wee bit carried away.” Then she stopped and looked at Moira, her eyes sweeping over her dress. “Now, go and change.”

  Moira paused. “I’m not sure I should−”

  “Ye’ll come!” Maggie exclaimed as her dainty, little hand snapped forward and grabbed a hold of Moira’s arm. “Dunna think ye can get out of this!” she teased, an encouraging smile on her lips. “Claudia wishes to meet ye.”

  “She does?” Moira asked almost thunderstruck for although she always enjoyed the cheerful atmosphere of these festivities, she feared that her involvement in bringing Garrett and his family home might lead to unwanted attention. Especially Ian, he would be displeased to see her, and she did not wish to anger him.

  Maggie nodded. “Aye, Garrett’s told her that ‘twas ye who had Cormag send him down to Gretna Green in the first place. She’s curious to meet ye. She told me so herself.”

  Moira swallowed. “Do ye think…?” She glanced around the hall, relieved to find Ian absent. “Do ye truly think ‘twould be all right for me to attend?”

  “Aye,” Maggie stressed with a grin. “Now, go and change.” And she shoved Moira toward the door before calling for Blair and Niall to stop pulling the petals off a bouquet of flowers.

  Returning to her cottage, Moira pulled on a dress of a gentle blue, modest and unassuming, determined not to draw attention to herself, but to remain in the background and merely observe the festivities. She had to admit she was curious to see the woman who had stolen Garrett’s heart in a single night. The thought of such a love as theirs warmed her heart and made her yearn for something she did not dare name.

  When the sun dipped lower on the horizon, Moira returned to the hall, finding it filled to the rim with people eating, laughing and dancing as a group of fiddlers played in the corner by the large fireplace, their jaunty tunes echoing through the air. Keeping to the sides, Moira saw smiling faces wherever she turned, and her heart ached as she felt reminded of happier times back home.

  Greystone Castle had been a place of joy and celebration as well, and it probably still was. Only now, she was no longer one of them.

  Across the hall near the main table, Moira spotted Garrett, his arm slung around a tall, young woman with mahogany curls and laughing, blue eyes. She leant into him as they watched the proceedings and whispered words between them. Garrett’s hand reached out to touch her face before she stepped forward and all but fell into his arms. A deep bond tied them to one another, one that was there for everyone to see in the way they always lingered close, always aware of the other.

  And then Garrett looked up, and Moira felt his gaze collide with hers.

  Instantly, her heart slammed to a halt.

  Although Moira knew that Garrett was among those who had come to accept her, perhaps even respect her as one of them, she feared that his attention would draw that of others. So, she drew in a sharp breath when she saw him whisper to Claudia, his chin nodding toward her.

  The young woman turned, her eyes following his. Barely a moment later, she strode forward, picking her way down the long line of tables.

  Moira swallowed and then lifted her chin, determined to stand her ground as people noticed the young woman crossing the hall, Garrett only a step behind her. Conversations stopped and heads turned. Moira felt countless eyes sweep from Claudia to her, brows drawing down in…confusion? Or disapproval?

  “My husband tells me,” Claudia began as she stopped in front of Moira, “that you’re the reason we found each other.” Smiling, she glanced at the man by her side, whose own face radiated the happiness she spoke of.

  Moira swallowed, aware that countless ears were listening. “Perhaps,” she said non-committally, “but the rest was all yer doing.”

  Claudia sighed, stepped forward and grasped Moira’s hands, her blue eyes shining with unshed tears. The carefree joy that had clung to her features only a moment ago was replaced by a look of deep contemplation. “Thank you,” she said, a quiver in her voice. “I know how close I came to losing it all: my husband, my son; it nearly killed me. If you…” She swallowed, pressing her lips into a thin line as a tear spilled over and rolled down her cheek. “If you hadn’t sent Garrett, if you hadn’t sent help, I…” She shook her head, unable to express the loss she had no doubt contemplated more than once.

  Returning the woman’s soft pressure on her hands, Moira smiled at her. “Ye’re welcome. I’m glad to see ye happy.”

  A radiant smile came to Claudia’s face, and she once more glanced over her shoulder at her husband before suddenly surging forward and embracing Moira in a way she had not experienced in years. “Thank you so much. I’ll never forget it.”

  Returning the woman’s embrace, Moira realised that her own eyes were suddenly brimming with tears. To be accepted like this, for her gift, for her interference, was something Moira never would have thought possible, and it warmed her deep inside, chasing away the chill that always seemed to linger.

  After Garrett drew Claudia away to introduce her to more friends and family, Moira retreated into a corner of the hall, frantically dabbing at her eyes and trying to become invisible once again. She feared others would think she had bewitched Claudia as Ian thought her to have done to his wife. She feared Claudia’s kind words would only prove to them that indeed Moira possessed an ability beyond those of others. She feared that now they would fear her even more than they already had before.

  And fear often led to anger and hatred. She had seen it before, and she knew to fear it.

  As her heart hammered in her chest, Moira found her gaze sweeping the crowd, looking, searching for dark grey eyes that possessed the unique and rather baffling ability to calm her, put her at ease and make her feel safe.

  The breath caught in her throat when she found Cormag entering the hall, hi
s eyes sweeping the crowed as though he too was looking for someone, and for a precious and shockingly intoxicating moment, Moira allowed herself to believe that he was looking for her.

  Still, she did not dare reveal herself and stayed hidden in the small corner behind one of the large columns supporting the roof, her eyes following him as he made his way through the crowd, exchanging a word here and there.

  Whenever they were alone together, Moira often felt an odd sense of recognition when she looked at him. There was something in his eyes that spoke of the same questions which plagued her, the same uncertainty which chilled her bones as well, the same desire to be understood which she longed for. Now, however, as he moved amongst his people, Cormag seemed like a man at ease with himself as well as the world, and Moira wondered if she had only ever imagined the connection she had felt to him.

  Perhaps it had simply been a matter of wanting to believe it to be true.

  Of needing it to be true.

  To feel less alone.

  “Will ye dance with me?”

  Blinking at the sound of her soft voice, Moira looked down and found little Blair standing before her, a flower from one of her mother’s bouquets in her outstretched hand. “Ye look sad again,” Blair observed. “Perhaps ye should dance. ‘Tis a lot of fun.” Her round blue eyes shone with joy, but Moira saw something else there as well. Something she could not quite grasp, something that made her wonder about the little girl who refused to abandon her side.

  “’Tis verra kind of ye to ask me,” Moira told her, leaning forward to be understood over the roaring laughter echoing through the hall. “But…I admit I’m rather tired. Why don’t ye go and dance with yer brother?”

  Little Blair drew in a slow breath as her watchful eyes swept over Moira’s face. The look in them was one of compassionate indulgence as though she knew very well that Moira’s words did not reflect the truth but was willing to grant her a reprieve. “Verra well,” she finally said, a gentle smile coming to her little face. “But if ye change yer mind, come and find me.” Then she turned around and vanished into the crowed.