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

by Bree Wolf

  Cormag’s eyes widened, and his jaw all but dropped as his mind turned inward, remembering not only the night she had tried to leave Seann Dachaigh Tower, but also the night she had sought to end her life. He remembered how he had felt Moira’s panic, her despair, and how he had rushed up the stairs to the tower’s battlements. Somehow, he had known where to find her. Somehow, he had sensed where she was.

  We feel the same, he heard Moira’s voice.

  Aye, he could feel her after all. His gift had not deserted him. Indeed, he felt her stronger than anyone else around him to the point that he had thought he could not feel her at all because the emotions in his chest had been so true that he had thought them his own alone.

  But they had not been his. They had been theirs. And only when there was a change, when she felt something he did not, then he could tell them apart.

  “Can ye find her now?” Garrett asked, squeezing Cormag’s shoulders, no doubt to gain his attention. “Can ye?”

  Cormag swallowed, terrified to feel nothing but his own fear for her. “Give me a moment,” he whispered then and walked away, his feet guiding him to the spot under the tall oak where he had seen Moira sit countless times, watching the children splash in the stream.

  Taking her seat, Cormag closed his eyes and rested his forehead on his bent knees. With his heart, his mind, with everything he was, he reached out to her, praying that the increased distance between them would not bar his gift.

  For a long time, all Cormag sensed was a mild echo of his own fears. No matter how determinedly he tried to push them aside, they would not move, remaining where they were, calling forth disappointment as well as an utter sense of failure.

  And then a stab of panic surged through his heart, and Cormag knew−knew! −beyond the shadow of a doubt that it had been Moira’s, not his own.

  Gritting his teeth, Cormag pressed his eyelids closed, fighting to shut out the soft murmur of the water nearby, Maggie’s heavy breathing as well as the sound of shuffling feet as Garrett and Finn moved about.

  And then he felt her.

  Her kindness.

  Her strength.

  Her unyielding will.

  Her fear, her panic…and her longing for him.

  Overwhelmed by her need for him, Cormag felt tears prick the backs of his eyes. Not since his parents had he ever felt such utter love and devotion, and he could not help the smile that tugged on his lips when her longing echoed within his own heart, matching what he felt.

  A jolt went through him in that moment, like a tug on the bond that connected them, and Cormag urged himself to focus. He did not need to know how she felt. Not here and now. What he did need was to figure out where she was.

  Allowing the soft tug to guide him, Cormag felt his head turn of its own accord, his thoughts striving unerringly toward her. “West,” he mumbled as his eyes flew open and he pushed to his feet.

  “What?” Garrett asked, a touch of incredulity in his green gaze as he hastened toward him, Finn not far behind.

  “West,” Cormag repeated as he met their eyes. “Ian took her west, toward the sea.”

  Finn frowned. “How can ye know that?”

  “Never mind that,” Garrett answered, his gaze never leaving Cormag’s. “Then we should hurry.”

  Cormag nodded, feeling his limbs hum with the need to reach her. “Aye, we do.”

  As they headed back up the small slope, they spotted Maggie standing halfway up toward the village. She was leaning down to speak to Niall, her hands holding his as words flew from his lips, his little face white with concern.

  Cormag’s gut clenched as he felt a wave of fear reach out toward him. “Something’s wrong,” he whispered, cursing the timing.

  Then Maggie straightened and took in her surroundings.

  “Are ye all right?” Finn asked as they drew near; he placed a hand on her slender shoulder, offering comfort.

  Turning toward them, Maggie swallowed, her face paler than before, and a sense of resignation clung to her being that Cormag had never seen before. “We canna find Blair,” she whispered as tears filled her eyes.

  “I’ve looked everywhere,” Niall blurted out, eager to assure them that he had done all he could.

  Cormag nodded as a sense of foreboding came over him. Perhaps it was nothing. Perhaps it was simply the fear that lingered in his heart. Perhaps Blair had simply found a way to finally escape her brother’s watchful eyes.

  But Cormag doubted it. After all, Niall clung like a shadow to his little sister, protective in a way that often threatened to smother the little girl in her thirst for adventure. Could she truly have slipped through his fingers?

  “Do ye think…Ian took her?” Finn asked, his jaw tightening at the thought.

  Garrett frowned. “Why would he? He’s always tried to keep her away from Moira.” He shook his head. “Naw, I dunna think her slipping away has anything to do with what Ian did. Perhaps ‘tis simply a coincidence.”

  “We still need to find her,” Finn stressed, and Cormag could feel the first stirrings of fatherly protectiveness sneak into his friend’s heart. “We canna be certain that she will return on her own. Perhaps she wandered off too far and fell, hurt her ankle or something of the sort.” He glanced from one to the next. “We should look for her.”

  “I agree,” Cormag replied, noting the relief that found Maggie’s heart at his words. “We’ll find her.” As well as Moira.

  “Thank ye,” Maggie mumbled, guilt clinging to her blue eyes. “What can I do?”

  Cormag tried his utmost to focus his mind as fear threatened to urge him to act without thought. “Finn, ye’ll gather some men and search the area.” After his friend nodded in affirmation, he turned to look at Maggie and Niall. “Tell them where she likes to go, what places she favours, anywhere ye think she might have gone.”

  Maggie’s and Niall’s heads bobbed up and down, and then they hurried to fall into step with Finn as they returned to the castle, eager words flying from their lips. Cormag could only hope that no harm would come to the little girl.

  Then he turned to Garrett. “I’ll go after Moira. She−”

  “Not without me,” his friend stated, his voice brooking no argument.

  A small smile teased Cormag’s lips. “Thank ye. I might need the help.” Garrett gave a short nod, and then they were rushing toward the castle as well, their feet carrying them toward the stables, and Cormag realised that Garrett had not asked him how he knew where to go.

  He had not pressed for answers, and Cormag wondered how long his friend had been suspecting that there was something not quite normal about him.

  38

  Wrong All the Same

  The first thing Moira noticed when the world slowly came back into focus was that it was unsteady, swaying like a ship tossed about by waves and…upside down.

  Her stomach rolled, and nausea washed over her, making her groan in agony.

  “I see ye’re awake.”

  At the grating sound of Ian’s voice, Moira froze and within seconds the events that had placed her in this precarious situation came rushing back. Her dream. The letter to Deidre. The moonlit night. Ian’s hands around her throat.

  Swallowing, Moira winced at the pain in her throat. Her mouth was dry, and her head throbbed, which was not in the least bit surprising considering that she was tied across a horse’s back, her legs and upper body dangling on either side of the large beast.

  “Please, I need to sit up or I’ll be sick.” The blood rushed in her ears, and for a moment, Moira feared she had pass out again. “Please, I swear I willna run. Please!”

  Her mount took another step or two before it stopped. She heard Ian slide out of the saddle and to the ground, his footsteps soft as he moved through the tall-stemmed grass. A moment later, his shadow fell over her, and she flinched at the sensation of having him so close, looming over her.

  “I’ll cut yer throat if ye try,” he snarled not far from her ear, sending a cold shiver down her
back. And then his hands tugged on the rope, brushing against her skin as he undid the knot that kept her strapped to the saddle.

  When the rope finally fell away, Moira slid off the saddle like a sack of grain, her legs unable to catch her as she crashed to the ground. Her limbs felt weak, and her skin burnt where the rope had cut deep into her flesh.

  “Up!” Ian hollered as he stepped around the horse, his hands reaching for her. They closed around her wrists like iron shackles before he yanked her to her feet, his snarl now only a hair’s breadth away from her face. “Ye will do as I say, or I swear I’ll tie ye back down, do ye hear?”

  Gritting her teeth, Moira nodded as she felt her body leaning away from him, from the hatred in his eyes and the burning anger in his touch.

  Ian’s eyes narrowed as he watched her. “Ye should never have come to Seann Dachaigh Tower,” he hissed as he pulled her back toward her horse. “I canna fathom why yer laird left ye alive after what ye did.” For a second, it seemed as though he would toss her up onto the horse, but then he spun around, shoving his face back into hers. “Did ye bewitch him as well?” he demanded, and his right hand gripped a fistful of her hair, yanking it back.

  Moira sucked in a sharp breath as tears began to pool in her eyes. “No matter what ye choose to believe,” she gasped, fighting to keep her wits about her at the sight of the threat that loomed over her, “I have no such power, and I never did.”

  Ian scoffed in disbelief. Then he released her hair and grabbed her around the waist, thrusting her back into the saddle, this time in an upright position.

  Moira’s legs tightened around the horse to keep herself from sliding off again as Ian once more reached for her hands, tying them to one another and then to the saddle. His movements were rough and intentionally harsh, his anger urging him to lash out at her, to hurt her as he believed she had hurt him.

  Remaining still, Moira gritted her teeth against the pain and fear that rolled through her as she watched him pull tight the last knot. Then he grasped her reins and walked over to his own mount, pulling himself back into the saddle.

  As they continued onward, Moira glanced around. However, her surroundings did not look familiar, and she could not even spot Seann Dachaigh Tower as a tiny dot on the horizon. How long had they been riding? She wondered, glancing up at the sky where the sun stood high above her. “Noon,” she mumbled, but instantly lowered her head when Ian glared at her over his shoulder.

  Hours had passed since she had left the safety of her bedchamber and walked down to the stream. Cormag would be up by now. He must know that she was missing.

  Moira cringed at the thought of what he must be feeling. No doubt he was frantic with fear, with concern for her, and the thought that there was someone in the world who loved her with such ardour warmed Moira’s heart.

  At least for a short second.

  Then guilt swept away the warmth, and for a desperate moment, Moira wished she had never come to Seann Dachaigh Tower. If she had not, Cormag would not have lost his heart to her, and he would not have had to suffer the agony of losing his other half. For that was how he felt. Moira knew it beyond the shadow of a doubt for it echoed within her own heart.

  After finding the one man whom she truly loved, the one man who completed her in every way, she would now lose him after only so short a time. It had not been enough, not nearly enough time, and Moira knew if she were to die now, today, she would feel nothing short of deepest regret.

  “Where are ye taking me?” Moira asked, knowing that the truth could not be worse than the fears that slowly built within her chest.

  Glancing at her through narrowed eyes, Ian pushed onward. “Ye’ll see soon enough.”

  “But I wish to know now.”

  At the sound of her voice, steady and demanding, Ian brought his mount to a halt. His gaze met hers, hard and threatening, as he pulled on her horse’s reins, urging the animal closer to his own. “What ye wish is of no concern to me,” he hissed, his nose barely an inch from hers, “and ye’d be wise not to test me.”

  Moira swallowed, fighting down the urge to drop her gaze. “No matter what I do, ye’ll not let me go, will ye?”

  Sitting back, Ian looked at her, his eyes narrowing in thought. “Have ye seen that?” he asked, a touch of honest curiosity in his voice. “Have ye seen what will happen to ye?” Then confusion drew down his brows. “But if ye did, why were ye fool enough to venture outside…alone?”

  “I didna see anything,” Moira told him, knowing that lies would only make her situation worse…if that was even possible. “Aye, I had a dream last night, but not about me or about ye. About a friend.” She swallowed. “And it pained me to see something dark looming in her future. I needed some air, and so I went outside.” She sighed, “I didna know ye’d…”

  A moment passed as they continued to look at one another. Then Ian gave a short nod, and Moira knew that he believed her. It was but a small victory, but it was nonetheless a step in the right direction. Perhaps, there was a way to reason with him after all.

  Their journey led them westward across Scotland’s green hills as they wound their way through the countryside and closer to the sea. The touch of salt lingering in the air intensified, and Moira felt reminded of her old home, of Greyston Castle, and the family she had left behind.

  “Why are ye doing this?” she asked after an hour of silence, an hour of considering her options, an hour of realising that none looked promising.

  “To protect my clan, my people,” Ian scoffed. “The exact opposite of what ye’ve done, of what ye’re doing still.”

  Moira sighed, cursing herself for her failure of judgement that had led to her banishment. Could she truly fault Ian for believing the worst of her? “I regret what I’ve done,” Moira whispered more to herself than him. “I never meant to harm anyone, least of all Connor, but at the time I…I was convinced I was serving my people, my clan.” She looked up and found his blue eyes fixed on hers. “The same ye feel right now.”

  Ian’s gaze hardened as her words sank in.

  “I too believed I was doing the right thing,” Moira pressed on. “I looked at Connor’s English bride, and I knew, I knew, that she would bring harm to our people. I couldna believe it when everyone else remained blind to the threat she posed. I couldna believe that no one saw what I saw.” Sighing, Moira closed her eyes, feeling the soft swaying of her mount as it picked its way across the land. “I felt compelled to act. I thought I was my people’s last hope. I thought once I’d revealed her to be a thorn in our midst, they’d be grateful, they’d be relieved that I’d protected them when they had not been able to do so themselves.” She met his eyes once more, surprised that he had remained silent all this time. “I believed that with every fibre of my being. I believed that I was right to do as I did. As ye do now.”

  Ian swallowed, and she could see the muscles in his jaw clench.

  “Ye canna deny that I’m right,” Moira said gently. “Ye feel the same as I did then, and ye’re as wrong now as I was then.”

  Anger darkened Ian’s face. “Dunna pretend that we’re the same,” he hissed, his tone rough and threatening; still, Moira detected a touch of defensiveness in his voice and knew that a small part of him now had doubt, fearing that her words might be true. “I would never act against my laird. I−”

  “Ye’re stealing his wife!” Moira exclaimed. “As I acted against Henrietta. I never meant for Connor to be in danger. I only ever meant to frighten his wife away. Everything else that happened, ‘tis was Angus’ doing. He betrayed me. He used me.” Moira drew in a deep breath as all the emotions of her past came rushing back. “And I let him. I did not see his intentions because I did not want to see them.” She shook her head as tears streamed down her face. “And it cost me dearly.”

  “Ye’re wrong,” Ian hissed. “Ye didna pay for what ye did. Ye came here and started over. A new life while the lives of others lay shattered at their feet.”

  “I know I didna deserve
it,” Moira admitted, “but I−”

  “Ye came here and ye spread yer lies, yer evil tongue whispering in the ears of my people, turning their hearts toward ye and away from…” He swallowed, and for a split second, heart-breaking loss rested in his blue eyes.

  “’Tis Maggie, isn’t it?” Moira asked, knowing that there was no way around it for it clearly lay at the root of Ian’s hatred of her. “Ye blame me because she canna love ye.”

  “She did!” he snarled; his face now contorted with something that sent cold, dark fear into Moira’s heart. “She did love me until the day ye came! Ye turned her against me! Ye bewitched her! ‘Twas yer doing, and ye’re going to pay for it!”

  Moira swallowed. “What will ye do to me?” she whispered, afraid to hear the answer, but equally afraid to remain in the dark. “If ye wanted to kill me, why didn’t ye do so then? Ye had yer hands around my neck, why didn’t ye kill me then?”

  A dark sneer came to Ian’s face. “Because a witch canna be killed like that,” he all but whispered. “A witch must be drowned.”

  Panic gripped Moira at his words, and for long moments, she did little else but stare at the back of his head as he urged their horses onward.

  Toward the sea.

  Far away from Seann Dachaigh Tower.

  Far away from anyone who might come to her aid.

  Far away.

  With his eyes to the ground, Cormag surged across the land, panic urging him on, urging him to hurry. His mount’s hoof beats thundered in his ears as his gaze moved from the ground to the horizon and back again. He felt a sudden tug on his heart, a flare of panic as though something had changed, as though Moira had just…

  Cormag gritted his teeth, afraid to trust his own heart, afraid that it might lead him astray, that he would not be able to tell the difference between her and himself.

  That he would not find her.

  Not in time.

  And so, when he and Garrett came across two sets of hoof prints, Cormag decided to rely on his tracking skills rather than trust in the gift bestowed upon him by the Old Ones.