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

by Bree Wolf

  Never would he have expected such devotion from his clan. It made him proud, and he smiled at them with gratitude in his heart before his gaze was once more drawn to his beautiful bride.

  Their eyes locked as the crowd parted to allow her through, and the tentative smile that came to her lips sent a jolt through his heart. He heard Finn and Garrett chuckle beside him, and for the first time in his life, Cormag knew that his heart’s desire showed on his face for all to see.

  And he did not care.

  All he cared about was Moira: in his life, by his side, in his arms. He wanted her. He loved her, and finally, Cormag was ready to admit that.

  Even if only to himself.

  The world went away, became distant, no more than a mild echo of what it had been only moments before as Moira came to stand beside him. Her hand trembled as he took it in his own, and the look in her eyes almost brought him to his knees.

  More than that, it gave him hope.

  Hope that she felt something other than regret to find herself bound to him after a few whispered words.

  Cheers went up in the hall, and as they turned to face their guests, everyone seemed to rush forward at once, offering their congratulations and well wishes. Cormag felt overwhelmed at the onslaught of emotions until his eyes settled on his mother’s, a sense of victory in their green depths. Still, the smile on her face spoke of happiness, and even from steps away, Cormag could see the soft mist clinging to her eyes.

  Ye did well, he heard her voice in his head, and not for the first time in his life, Cormag wondered if there was more to his mother than met the eye.

  As the music began to play, the cacophony of voices died down somewhat. Dancers collected on one side of the hall while others sat down to eat. Cormag saw Garrett take their son Aiden from Claudia’s arms so that she could fetch herself a plate while Maggie and Emma helped hand out the food, ensuring that all would get their fill. Blair and Niall raced around the room with their friends, weaving through the guests like little mice, their faces heated from exertion as laughter spilled from their lips.

  It was a happy scene, and yet…

  Turning to his wife−his wife! −Cormag found her step toward him in that very moment, her blue eyes seeking his, a similar sense of urgency in them that he felt in his own heart. “Is there anything ye need?” he asked, leaning close to whisper in her ear.

  Her hand came to rest over his rapidly beating heart as she turned her head, her lips brushing by his ear, and whispered back, “I need to speak with ye. Alone.”

  As she pulled back, their eyes met, locked, held, and Cormag felt the air around him grow thin. Then he nodded, and she slipped her hand through the crook of his arm as he led her toward the arched doorway that would guide them outside.

  Apparently, their intention to retreat so soon after speaking their vows did not go completely unnoticed, for teasing remarks and laughter erupted around them, bringing a deep flush to Moira’s cheeks. Cormag gritted his teeth and pulled her away as fast as he dared.

  Guests even lingered in the hallway, glad to have a chance to offer their congratulations, and more people poured in and out of the side entrance, returning for food or leaving for a spell of fresh air. Turning toward the stairwell, Cormag guided his new bride upward, thinking that a walk on the battlements might grant them an opportunity to speak.

  Moira, however, stopped him with a hand on his arm when they reached the corridor that led to his chamber. “I dunna wish to be overheard,” she told him and then proceeded onward, heading toward his door with a certainty that surprised him.

  Following in her wake, Cormag watched her as she opened his door and stepped inside. Then she paused, and he saw her gaze sweep over his room before settling on the bed where they would share a night in each other’s arms not long ago.

  “Are ye all right?” Cormag asked, worried that all these hasty developments had overwhelmed her. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel frightened, cornered, trapped, without options or choice.

  Moira drew in a slow breath, momentarily lost in thought, before she turned to face him. “I’m fine.” Then she looked past him. “Would ye mind closing that?”

  Stepping back, Cormag did as she asked and closed the door, shutting out the world, before approaching her once more. Her gaze met his, and a nervous smile flitted across her face. Her feet moved then, carrying her around the room, indecision suddenly marking her face.

  “We can leave if ye wish,” Cormag offered, wondering if the memory of what had happened here in this room between them, of how he had almost taken advantage of her vulnerability was bothersome for her to remember.

  At least for him, it was.

  Turning from the window, Moira met his gaze. “Nay, I…”

  “Ye seem nervous.”

  She nodded. “I am.”

  “Why?” Tension gripped him, and he feared that the hope he had held onto for the past week would finally be shattered. He had avoided her to not hear her say that she did not want to marry him, that she had only agreed to do so out of lack of options, to feel safe again, to belong, to have a home.

  But not because she wanted him.

  Moira swallowed. “I keep wondering why ye let this wedding take place, why ye didna stop it.”

  Cormag cringed, seeing his worst fears realised. His feet moved backward, putting distance between them, worried that his closeness might be threatening to her. “There’s no need for us to share this chamber,” he told her, trying to sound reassuring. “There are others ye can chose from. One that will be yers alone.”

  A slight frown came to her face as she watched him. “Why would ye make such an offer?”

  Cormag squared his shoulders, linking his hands behind his back. “I know ye’re vulnerable, ye’re lonely, and I swear I willna take advantage of that again.” His jaw clenched, but he forced himself to hold her gaze. “I’m sorry for what happened the other night. I shouldna hav−”

  “The night I kissed ye?” she asked, her blue eyes lingering on his face. “After I came to yer chamber?”

  Something odd reverberated in her voice, and Cormag was not certain what to make of it. “Ye needed comfort, Lass. Nothing more. I should’ve seen that right away.”

  A long sigh left her lips. “I felt many things that night, and I admit that what I needed most was comfort. Ye were right about that. I didna even know, not in that moment.” A soft smile teased her lips before she drew in a long breath and then moved toward him. Her steps were slow, cautious, a bit hesitant, and yet, her eyes never fell from his until she came to stand not an arm’s length in front of him. “Ye didna do anything I didna want, Cormag, not then, not ever,” she whispered, lifting a hand and bringing it to his face, her fingers trailing over his skin. “Believe me.”

  His hands clenched more fiercely behind his back as he fought to remain in control. Why was it that she managed to strip him of every little bit of self-control within a matter of seconds? She could not possibly be doing this intentionally, could she? She could not know how her soft caresses drove him mad. How her nearness made him long for her more. “I disagree,” he gritted out, wishing she would return to the other side of the room. “Ye were in tears, Lass, and I was selfish to−”

  “I was selfish as well,” she interrupted, and her hand slipped lower, down the side of his neck and over his shoulder until it came to rest over his stampeding heart. “I was selfish when I married ye today without…”

  “Without what?” Cormag pressed, confused by the soft changes in her manner, back and forth between bold and nervous.

  “Without speaking to ye, without asking if ye even…wanted to marry me,” she whispered, pressing closer, her breath brushing over his skin as her blue eyes looked up into his in a way that stole the breath from his lungs. “I was selfish because I wanted ye. I wanted ye to be mine, and I was afraid that if I asked, ye might change yer mind, and so I didna.” A shy smile curled up her lips. “Can ye not see that I want ye? That I have wanted y
e since the moment I stepped into yer study three years ago?”

  Unable to breathe, Cormag stared at her, doubting his ears, doubting his sanity, doubting…everything. “Ye needna…I…” Shaking his head to clear it, he reached for her, his hands bringing her closer, trying to see if there was truth in her words because if there was not, and he allowed himself to believe her, it would cripple him. “It canna be true,” he mumbled. “I canna feel ye at all. There’s nothing. All I feel is…”

  “What?” she whispered as her hands snaked up his chest and came around his neck.

  As though struck, Cormag stepped back, removed her arms from him and crossed to the other side of the room. His breath came fast, and his mind spun as he stared at her.

  “What is it that ye feel when ye think of me?” Moira asked as her eyes lingered on his face, gliding over his taut features and down to the hammering pulse in his neck. “Do ye feel unhinged, and yet, strangely balanced? Do ye feel drawn closer like the pull of a magnet? Do ye feel the air stolen from yer lungs and yer blood set on fire? Do ye feel safe and warm and complete at the same time? Do ye feel all that? Because if ye do,” tears misted in her eyes as she stepped forward, her gaze determined, but also deeply vulnerable as she faced him, “then ye do feel what I feel.” She swallowed, and her lower lip trembled with the emotions streaming down her face. “Perhaps ye simply canna tell the difference for we feel the same.”

  Dumbfounded, Cormag stared at her as he listened to the faint echo in his heart. It felt as though there were two beats, and not one, hers and his beating together. Her words echoed within him, and he all but recognised them as his own. Could it be that she truly felt the way she had said?

  “Why did ye marry me?” Moira demanded when he remained silent. “Out of duty? Because ye thought ye had to? To protect me because that is what a decent man does?” She paused and drew in a shuddering breath, hope and fear warring within her eyes. “Or was there another reason?”

  Looking across the room, seeing her standing there, so vulnerable and brave, Cormag finally realised that his mother had been right after all. Deep down, love was simple, and in that moment, he could not remember a single reason why he had hesitated for so long.

  But no more.

  In a few large strides, Cormag closed the distance between them and all but yanked her into his arms. His mouth claimed hers in a daring kiss for he no longer feared that he was crossing a line. Her arms snaked around his neck once more, holding him close, and she kissed him back with equal measure, their hearts beating as one.

  “I married ye, Lass,” Cormag panted as he stared down into her blue eyes, “because I love ye, and ye were right, I have since the day ye arrived.”

  Tears flooded her eyes then, and a violent tremor shook her. Cormag pulled her into his arms, knowing that it was neither fear nor regret that had brought it on, but utter relief. For deep in his heart, he felt an echo of it, uncertain whether the emotion was hers or his own. In the end, though, it did not matter for they both felt the same.

  Still, clinging to him, Moira lifted her head, warmth and longing shining in her eyes. “I love ye as well, and I have for a long time.”

  Closing his eyes, Cormag rested his forehead against hers as they all but breathed as one, their arms wrapped around the other, holding on. “Ye seem different today,” Cormag whispered after a while, unable to shake the feeling that something had changed. “Brave, almost fearless. Why?”

  A soft chuckle rumbled in her throat before she lifted her head. “I had a dream last night.”

  “A dream?” he asked with a frown before his eyes widened in understanding. “Ye mean…?”

  Moira nodded, the smile on her lips one of deepest joy.

  “What…what did ye see?” Cormag asked, not certain if he wanted to know.

  She sighed, a deep, contented sigh. “I saw us, together and happy.” One corner of her mouth curled up as her eyes became distant, returning to the moment in her dream. “But ‘twas more than simply seeing us thus. It was the ease that existed between us. It felt simple, and when I woke, I could no longer remember why we were still apart.” She blinked. “I knew that I wanted ye, and I could finally admit that to myself without fear. ‘Twas… ‘twas liberating.”

  Cormag swallowed. “Does that mean ye’re here because−?”

  “No!” came her answer like a shot, fired without hesitation or the slightest bit of unease. Grasping his hands, she met his eyes, holding on until he felt trapped in her deep blue gaze. “I’m not here because of what I saw. I know now that what I see is nothing more than a choice, and I would have left long ago if I did not care for ye. I’m here because I choose to be, and I married ye because ‘tis what I want, not because of yer meddling mother, lack of choices or the whispers of fate.” She inhaled a slow breath. “Can ye trust that? Can ye trust me?”

  “Aye,” Cormag whispered against her lips as he leant forward, drawing her back into his arms…where she belonged. “Aye, I trust ye. I always have.” The smile that teased her lips warmed his heart, and he kissed her then without a moment of doubt, not in the least wondering if she wanted him as well.

  Her eager hands raked through his hair and then began pulling on his shirt as he held her tightly in his arms, reluctant to allow even a breath of air between them. Only for a second did he lift his arms so she could pull his shirt over his head and toss it to the side before he reached for her again, his hands now eager to loosen her laces.

  Soon, Cormag felt her bare skin against his own. He could not remember ever having felt more at peace with himself than when Moira’s laughter echoed through his chamber as they lost their footing and tumbled onto the bed.

  Love truly was simple…if one did not complicate it, of course.

  36

  A Fateful Night

  The first few weeks after their wedding were nothing short of a dream for Moira.

  For so long, she had been alone; more than that, she had been lonely, the only comfort the reassuring words she had whispered to herself in the dead of night, longing for someone to hold her. Anyone, even if it was not Cormag.

  Only to feel. To have that bit of contact that healed the soul and soothed the heart.

  And now, she fell asleep every night, nestled in the warmth of his embrace. He was there when she closed her eyes and he was there when she woke, his soft silver gaze seeking hers with such tenderness that it robbed her of speech. Often, she simply flung herself into his arms, desperate to show him how fulfilled she suddenly felt.

  Love.

  Family.

  Home.

  All that Moira had thought lost to her was now slowly returning.

  With Cormag by her side, she began to walk through the castle and its surrounding village with a raised head and open eyes. And on her way, she met friendly faces and exchanged kind words here and there. At first, these exchanges were a bit strained and felt tense, but over time, Moira felt herself settle more into her role as the laird’s wife. She took an interest in the people around her, freely offering her knowledge of herbs and their uses, helping where she could, be it with a sick child or when a cottage’s roof needed to be re-thatched.

  Maeve often brought her along when she made her round through the village, giving Moira the opportunity to speak to her people, to listen to their thoughts, their concerns, but also their joys. Soon, their names no longer slipped her mind, and she felt her heart swell with pride when one afternoon she was asked to look after the three children of a family whose mother was tied to her bed, struggling to bring another one into this world.

  And every night, Moira fell into bed, grateful for the turn her life had taken. Still, every now and then, she shed a tear for those lost to her, for the family far away, who should have been there and shared in her happiness. Certainly, she had found new friends in Maggie and Emma and even Claudia as the young, English woman proved a wonderful companion; however, they could not fill the void left by Alastair, Deidre and even Connor.

&nbs
p; Aye, Moira now knew that she had never truly loved him, at least not in any way different from how family simply loved one another. Sometimes she still wondered about the dream that had destroyed her life, trying to understand what purpose it had been meant to serve and how else she could have interpreted it. However, Moira had come to realise that without acting as she had, she would never have been banished, and would never have come to Clan MacDrummond and met Cormag.

  In the end, although Moira regretted the pain her actions had brought upon her brother and her old clan, another part of her could not regret that it had happened.

  For she could no longer imagine a life without Cormag.

  “Are ye all right, Lass?” he asked one night when she awoke with a start, her heart hammering so fast that for a moment she feared she would faint.

  His hand gently brushed a lock from her forehead as he pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her, holding her tightly until she began to calm down. “Was it a dream?” he whispered, his warm breath tickling her ear, the deeper meaning in that simple question loud and clear.

  Moira nodded for her throat felt dry, and she rose to pour herself some water, immediately regretting the distance it put between them. Nevertheless, her pulse still beat fast, and her limbs urged her to move as though it would help clear her head.

  “What did ye see?” Cormag asked as he leant against the headboard, his grey eyes almost black in the dim silvery light of the new moon. His gaze stayed with her as she paced, and Moira smiled at the thought that he knew her well enough to leave her be.

  At least for the moment.

  “I’m not certain,” Moira whispered, fighting to hold on to the images as they began to slip away. “’Twas about Deidre and…” Her brows drew together almost painfully as her mind stretched to reach for the elusive images she had seen. “I saw a blue flower.” She shook her head. “I didna recognise it. It looked strange somehow, blurred, as though ‘twas not real.”