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

by Bree Wolf

  Straightening, Moira made to lean back against the wall, her heart overcome with regret, when a dark face suddenly appeared beside her.

  Muffling a scream with a hand to her mouth, Moira shrank back, staring at Ian’s contorted face as he forced her to retreat down the side corridor. His steps were measured, menacing, and the hatred that burnt in his eyes was almost painful to see.

  Goosebumps shot up and down Moira’s back as she pushed herself along the cold stone wall, her instincts urging her to retreat while her mind screamed at her that she was putting more and more distance between herself and someone who might come to her aid.

  Cormag.

  Like a lifeline, her heart clung to him, but it was too late, and she found herself in a darkened corridor, alone with Ian.

  “I told ye to stay away from my daughter!” Ian snarled before his hand shot forward and clamped down hard around her wrist.

  A gust of air rushed from Moira’s lips as a dark memory resurfaced, overwhelming her in its vividness. Again, she felt Ian’s hands squeeze her throat as though it were made of pudding. Again, she felt her lungs strain to provide her with life-sustaining air. Again, she began to see black spots dance before her eyes.

  Moira knew she was not a woman to cower, to plead, to weep in the sight of danger. However, in that moment, she could not find the strength to stand tall and proud. In that moment, all she felt was worn and exhausted and weary.

  When would this finally end?

  “I swear,” Ian growled into her face, “if I find ye near her one more time…” His voice trailed off as he gritted his teeth, fighting to stay in control as his other hand reached up, hovering near her face as though wishing to finish what he had started that day months ago.

  Then he abruptly released her and strode away, his angry footsteps echoing in Moira’s head, and her body flinched at each dull thud.

  “I canna stay,” Moira heard herself whisper repeatedly as she pushed off the wall and stumbled down the corridor. At its end, she pushed open the door and stepped out into the courtyard, her eyes moving over the closed stalls before coming to rest on the stables. “I canna stay.”

  22

  Into the Night

  Something was wrong!

  Cormag could not say what, but there was a certainty in his chest that reminded him of a night a few weeks past. Unease settled in his bones as he lifted his head to see above the crowd, praying that he would find Moira’s face amongst those laughing and talking, or at least hovering somewhere in the back. Still, as before, he could not find her, and his unease grew with each step he took around the large room.

  “Is something wrong?” Garrett asked, his brows drawn down as he watched him.

  “Have ye seen Moira?”

  Garrett nodded. “Claudia and I spoke to her not long ago.”

  “And since?”

  Garrett shook his head, then started to look around himself. “Why do ye ask?”

  Cormag sighed, unable to explain even to himself why he needed to find her. “Did she seem upset?”

  “Touched,” Garrett replied, a deep sigh leaving his lips. “Claudia thanked her for aiding us in our search for one another. I think her words deeply affected Moira although she tried her best to hide it.” His frown returned. “Is there anything I can do?”

  Cormag shook his head and then quickly took his leave. After all, Moira was not here. But she had been in the hall before leaving sometime after speaking to Garrett’s new bride. Why? Where had she gone? Home?

  Halfway to the large oak door, Cormag froze as his mind conjured an image of the eastern tower, Moira standing on the parapet wall, swaying in the breeze tugging her forward.

  “No!” Spinning on his heel, Cormag sprinted sideways into the darkened corridor and then raced up the stairs, his heart hammering as it had the night he had found Moira ready to fling herself off the wall. Had she not promised him to seek him out should she ever…?

  Without thought, he burst through the door…only to find the roof empty, the parapet walls gleaming softly in the last rays of the setting sun. Slowly, his heart began to calm as he stalked around the stone floor, his thoughts running rampant, trying to determine what had happened and where she could have gone. Had Ian found her? Had he…?

  Cormag’s teeth gritted together painfully as he realised that he had not seen Ian either when he searched for Moira in the crowd. Had he merely overlooked him, his attention focused elsewhere? Or…?

  Standing with his hands resting on the parapet wall, Cormag was about to push off and rush back downstairs to seek out his childhood friend and demand an explanation when movement caught his eye down in the courtyard.

  Instantly, Cormag stilled, his gaze narrowing as he tried to see in the dim light of the approaching night.

  “Moira.” Her name flew from his lips as he stared at her golden tresses swaying in the wind. She moved swiftly and with determination, leading a horse from the stables and then swinging herself into the saddle. Before Cormag had even taken a single step, she urged her mount out through the open gate and they vanished behind the wall protecting Seann Dachaigh Tower from outside forces.

  A moment later, Cormag all but flew down the stairs.

  He finally had his answer.

  Tears streamed down her face as Moira urged the mare onward, her hooves thundering through the small village and past the cottage that had been Moira’s home these past three years. Still, it had also been the place where Ian had almost squeezed the life from her, and Moira once more felt his fingers tensing around her throat.

  Willing the image away, Moira looked up at the horizon, which was slowly growing dimmer as the sun vanished behind Scotland’s rolling hills. Darkness began to reach out its fingers toward the land, a threat which felt devastatingly familiar that Moira could not help but cringe at the thought. She knew she ought to head back. She knew it was madness to leave in the middle of the night. She knew she was not equipped to travel across country…especially since she had no idea where to go.

  But she could not turn back. She simply could not. Yet, she could not stay.

  Despite all the small wonderful moments she had shared with Maggie and Emma, Mrs. Brown’s appreciation, Little Blair’s tenacity in making her feel better, Garrett’s and Claudia’s gratitude, Finn’s trust in her and…Cormag’s way of looking deep into her soul like no one ever had before, Moira did not dare stay.

  In this dark hour, she was once more reminded that even the smallest measure of happiness could be ripped away, leaving her alone and frightened and so weary. Aye, Moira was weary of fighting for acceptance every day. She could understand why people mistrusted her, and yet, in that moment, she did not have the strength to continue. She simply wanted it to be over, to rest her head and close her eyes.

  In peace.

  Thunder rolled in the distance, and Moira’s head snapped up, her eyes gliding over the darkening sky, trying to see where dark clouds might have collected, threatening to soak her through should she proceed in that direction. Still, no matter how hard she strained to see, her eyes would not assist her.

  Darkness was slowly falling over the land, hiding what had been visible only moments before.

  The sound of thunder swept over her once more; only this time, it sounded less like thunder and more like−

  Looking over her shoulder, Moira spotted a rider approaching from behind her, and panic swept through her like a wave. Was it Ian? Was he pursuing her? Seeing his chance far away from the castle?

  With fear fuelling her blood, Moira leant farther over her mare’s neck, urging the horse onward. Could she outrun him? Again, she glanced over her shoulder and saw a dim outline in the faint light of the crescent moon that hung crookedly in the midnight-blue sky.

  The rider was gaining on her!

  Pulling on the reins, Moira guided her mare to the left, closer to the woods where she might lose him in the thicket. Small groves stood here and there, and she tried her best to alter her course whenever
they came in-between them, blocking his line of sight.

  To Moira’s relief, he soon vanished into the shadows, and she could no longer see him when she turned her head. Still, Moira did not dare slow her mare and continued as fast as she dared in the near-dark. Only when she came to the small stream where it snaked back around and travelled eastward once more did she slow her mount, allowing her mare to carefully pick her way across the slippery riverbed.

  She had just made it to the other side when a dark shape suddenly appeared out of nowhere.

  Shrieking in terror, her mare reared up, and Moira lost her balance, falling backward, her hands scrambling to find something to hold onto.

  But there was nothing, and so she hit the ground with a hard thud, and she screamed out in pain. Panic urged her to her feet within seconds, and she immediately reached for her mare’s reins as the horse pranced nervously in front of her, its ears flicking back and forth.

  When rough hands grasped her, and a scream tore from her throat.

  Terror gave her strength, and she struggled against her attacker with all her might. Still, he spun her around with little effort, his iron fists closing around her wrists in an oddly familiar way. Moira’s head snapped up, and she found herself looking up into Cormag’s dark eyes, a storm brewing in them as he yanked her closer, a snarl on his face. “How dare ye leave? Ye promised!”

  23

  Heart & Mind

  As much as Moira had fought against him before, the moment their eyes met, her body ceased its struggle. Her breath came fast, and her hands were balled into fists, but she stood still, her wide blue eyes staring up into his.

  Slowly, Cormag felt his blood calm. Aye, he had growled at her, given her a reason to be frightened of him…and he was coming to regret it. He ought not have lost control, no matter how angry he had been, how…frightened he had been. For if he were honest−at least with himself−he had been terrified at the thought of losing Moria, either to another place on this earth or to a tragedy that might have befallen her.

  He could not lose her, and the thought tightened his grasp on her wrists.

  Moira gasped, and her eyes narrowed, anger pushing away the hint of awe he had seen in her blue gaze the moment their eyes had met. “How dare ye follow me?” she snapped, yanking on her arms to free them. When she failed, a frustrated growl rose from her throat. “Release me.”

  Swallowing, Cormag complied, feeling the muscles in his jaw tighten at the loss of her touch. “What are ye doing out here?” he asked, willing himself to remain in control. “Where are ye headed at this time of night?”

  Her lips pressed into a thin line as she rubbed her wrists. “That is none of yer concern. Leave me be.” And with that, she spun around and stalked toward her mare, now grazing calmly nearby.

  “Ye will answer me,” Cormag demanded, his voice calm but tinged with a threatening growl.

  Turning back to face him, Moira squared her shoulders. “I dunna owe ye an explanation, and ye have no right to demand one.”

  The tightness in his shoulders grew, and he felt his hands ball into fists by his sides. “Ye’re my responsibility,” he forced out through gritted teeth, his heart aching at the distance that now echoed between them. “I willna have ye come to harm. ‘Tis foolish to leave the castle at night and on yer own.” He tried his best to be reasonable with her, but he knew that his words were coming out differently.

  Moira snorted, “Yer responsibility, aye?” She shook her head, and a grotesque imitation of a smile showed on her lips. “Then I release ye from that responsibility as it seems verra burdensome to ye.”

  Fear gripped him anew. “’Tis not that simple,” he growled. “Ye−”

  “I’m sorry ye had to pay the price for my wrongdoings,” she interrupted, her dark blue eyes burning into his as though she was daring him to…react? “Ye did nothing wrong; still, ye had to put up with my presence all these years. I know it hasna been easy for ye, and so I think ye’ll agree that ‘tis in all of our best interests that I leave. Now. Tonight.”

  Cormag could not quite say what he was feeling in that moment. It reminded him of the day his father died; the sense of panic knowing that a tragedy awaited him around the next turn as well as the deep crater of loss that tragedy plunged him into. The helplessness. The need to do something. The fear that whatever he did would not be good enough. “Ye promised,” was all he could get past his lips without losing control of the storm brewing inside him.

  “I promised not to harm myself, nothing more.” Inhaling a slow breath, Moira shook her head. “I never promised not to leave.”

  Anger sparked anew at this technicality, but he extinguished it quickly, reminding himself that nothing good had ever come from losing one’s temper. “I dunna care. Ye’re coming back with me.”

  Her lips thinned, and her nose crinkled ever so slightly, giving her the look of a feline baring its teeth. “Ye canna tell me what to do, Cormag MacDummond. Do ye hear?” Storming toward him, she tried to shove him out of her way, and her frustration grew when she failed. “Ye have no right meddling in my life. Why did ye come? ‘Twould have been so easy for ye to rid yerself of this responsibility. It still is.” She sighed, “Simply look the other way and let me leave.” Her jaw clenched, and he thought to see a faint shimmer of tears in her eyes. “I promise I’ll not return.”

  “That I canna do,” he replied, wondering what had pushed her over the edge tonight. “Tell me what happened? What made ye leave?”

  Her gaze dropped from his. “’Tis none of yer concern.”

  “’Tis my clan,” he whispered, watching the way her lower lip began to quiver the same it had that night up on the eastern tower. “What did Ian do?”

  Her head snapped up, and she stared at him with wide eyes. “How did ye−? Can ye feel what I feel…right now?”

  Cormag shook his head. “I told ye I canna. But I know my people, and…I know ye.” He took a step closer. “Tell me what happened.”

  “He hates me,” Moira whispered, and the vulnerability that came to her eyes made him cringe. “He blames me for the loss of Maggie’s love, and…and every time, Blair speaks to me…it riles him. Perhaps he fears that he’ll lose her as well. I don’t know.” She inhaled a shuddering breath, and he saw the way her hands trembled before her arms rose and she wrapped them around herself. “All I know is that he blames me, and one day, no one will be there to interfere, to stop him from…” She swallowed, and a shadow crossed over her face. “I dunna want to die like that, and…and I canna live in fear.” She shook her head as determination hardened her eyes. “I have to go.” Again, she turned, her steps quick as she headed for her mare.

  Panic gripped Cormag’s heart, sending him after her. “I willna allow it,” he snapped, his voice harsh as he reached for her arms, spinning her back around. He felt like an ogre, a barbarian, forcing his will on her when he could simply admit that…

  But it was not simple, was it? It never had been.

  She loves ye as well.

  At the echo of his mother’s voice, Cormag froze, cursing her influence on him. Never had they seen eye to eye on these matters, but instead gone head to head, her urging him on and him putting up barriers. Still, somehow, she always found her way into his mind.

  Once more trapped in his iron grip, Moira stared up at him. Only this time, there was no fight in those deep blue eyes. Instead, he saw resignation and exhaustion, and he realised how close she was to giving up. Every day, she was forced to balance on the edge of a precipice, always fearing to fall, always fighting to stay upright. “Have ye never felt like getting away? Leaving it all behind? Do ye never feel overwhelmed? Exhausted?” Shaking her head, she straightened, a frown coming to her face. “How can ye always remain so calm? So controlled? Is there a beating heart in yer chest?”

  There was. Cormag knew that there was, more so today than ever before, and that was the problem. “It doesna matter how I feel.” He all but spat the words, afraid they would reveal him as
a liar. “Ye will return to the castle with me.”

  For a moment, it seemed she would bow her head in defeat, but then her features hardened. “Why?” she demanded, and her voice grew in strength. “If ye want me to come, then tell me why. Why are ye here? Why did ye follow me? Why?”

  Never in his life had Cormag been asked a more complicated question, or one more terrifying. “It doesna mat−”

  “Aye, it does!” Moira yanked on her arms, but not as it seemed to free herself, but to pull him closer. Her eyes sought his, searching, demanding. “Tell me! Why do ye care? Why can ye not simply let me leave? ‘Twould be better for everyone.” She snorted, “Especially for ye, a man who adheres to reason at all times, this should be obvious.” A moment of quiet fell over them, and the look on her face grew gentler. “Why?”

  Cormag gritted his teeth until his jaw felt as though it would break apart. He wanted nothing more but to put distance between them, but he could not bring himself to look away, her blue eyes holding him trapped as though she had placed iron shackles on him.

  “Why?”

  “Are ye…,” he swallowed hard, his breath coming faster and faster as his emotions fought to break his hold on them, “…never afraid that giving in to…to…” He broke off and forced himself to inhale a deep breath as his head began to spin. “That giving in will rob ye of yer control once and for all?”

  24

  A Moment of Surrender

  Moira stared up into his black eyes, taken aback by his question as it held countless implications and whispered of a caring heart, a heart he fought to hold in check, a heart straining to break free. If only he would let it.

  Still, the tortured expression on his face spoke of a fight not yet ended. The battle still waged within him, and she could feel his struggle in the tight grip upon her wrists. “If ye don’t allow yerself to feel,” she whispered, noting the way his gaze held onto hers, “how do ye even know ye’re alive?”