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

by Bree Wolf

  Still, time was of the essence, and so they pressed their horses, only pulling to a stop now and then to ensure they had not lost their tracks.

  “Wait!” Garrett called, reining in his horse and jumping out of the saddle.

  Staring at his friend, Cormag did the same, urging his mount back to where Garrett was now crouched in the soft grass. “What is it? What d’ye find?” He too jumped to the ground, his feet carrying him to his friend’s side.

  “Look,” Garrett urged, his finger pointing at one hoof print overlapping another.

  Cormag frowned. “Aye, ‘tis proof of two horses.”

  Garrett shook his head as he rose and pointed down the way they had come. “For the most part, the prints have been side by side. Aye, overlapping here and there, but never for long.” Again, he turned to the prints before them. “Now, look here. These seem to be overlapping continuously, sometimes on the left and sometimes more on the right as though−”

  “Another rider?” Cormag exclaimed, confusion marking his face as he stared at the evidence before him.

  Garrett nodded. “So ‘twould seem. But who could it be? And why?”

  “I dunna know,” Cormag whispered, wishing he possessed Moira’s gift, wishing he could see where she was and how to save her. “But it doesna matter. We canna linger here.” Striding back to his horse, he pulled himself into the saddle. “Whoever it is, we need to continue on and see what we’re dealing with when we get there.” Hopefully, it would not be too late.

  “I agree,” Garrett said as he pulled up alongside Cormag. “I only sought to bring it to yer attention. We need to be watchful,” he continued, voice imploring, “if we rush into this without thought, we willna be of any help to her.”

  Hearing his friend’s words of caution, Cormag nodded, grateful that at least one of them was able to think clearly. “Aye, ye’re right. Thank ye.”

  Without another word, they continued their journey, praying that somehow, they would catch up. However, Ian had half-a-day’s head-start. What were their chances?

  39

  Deeper than Blood and Clan

  “What are we doing here?” Moira asked as Ian pulled her out of the saddle and shoved her toward a thick pine tree. His hands were rough as he undid the knot that kept her hands together. Then he pushed her onto the ground, her back to the trunk and pulled her arms behind her, tying the rope around the tree.

  Moira gritted her teeth at having her arms bent backwards in this fashion, her shoulders aching from the strain. Her breath came fast as fear settled deeper into her bones, and she knew that whatever Ian had planned for her was not far off.

  Swallowing, she looked across the small level area around her to the spot where the land fell away in a steep drop. She could hear waves crash below and saw sea gulls circle overhead. The smell of the sea, clean and salty and invigorating, tickled her nose as her gaze swept over the rocky cliffs rising and falling to the right and left of this small plateau where Ian had pulled to a stop. Even settled under the pine, the wind tugged on her hair and brushed with chilling fingers across her cheeks, whispering of her impending end.

  Would he simply push her over the edge? Moira wondered as fresh tears pooled in her eyes. But then why had he not simply done so? Why was he tying her to a tree?

  Rising to his feet, Ian stood back and surveyed his handiwork. Satisfied that the bonds would hold, he turned back to their horses, hitching their reins to low-hanging branches. Then he turned toward the rocky cliffs, his gaze travelling over the large boulders as though searching for something.

  “What are we doing here?” Moira demanded once again, fear now turning into anger that he would simply ignore her, that he would not even grant her the mercy of an answer. “Tell me!”

  His ice-cold eyes settled on hers; his lips curled into a hateful snarl. “How does it feel not to know?” he asked in a quiet voice; still, it vibrated with the same hostility she had sensed in him from the beginning. “Stripped of yer power, ye’re like the rest of us. ‘Tis about time ye found out what it is to be vulnerable.”

  Closing her eyes, Moira laughed at the absurdity of his words. “As little as I know about ye, ye know even less about me.” She swallowed. “I know well what it is to be vulnerable, to feel tossed about like a piece of driftwood on the high seas. Ye may not believe me, but my life hasna been easy either or free of heartbreak and sorrow. Aye, I suppose I deserved what came to me, but that doesna mean it was any less crippling.”

  Shaking his head, Ian stared at her, a dumbfounded expression on his face. “What came to ye? Nothing came to ye! Ye simply went on yer merry way and started over. Ye−”

  “I lost my family!” Moira yelled, feeling her jaw begin to quiver. “I lost my home. I lost everyone I’ve ever loved. My brother won’t look at me, and I…I can’t even blame him.” Tears now streamed down her face, and Moira wished she could brush them away. “I’ve thought about ending my life more than once, not out of guilt, but because I couldna bear it any longer.”

  “Ye lie!” Ian snarled, his blue eyes pale as he watched her. “’Tis a trick to twist my mind into believing something that isna true.”

  “The night of my aunt’s wedding,” Moira pressed on, her teeth chattering painfully against one another, “I…I almost jumped off the battlements of the eastern tower.”

  Ian’s gaze widened for a split second before it once more narrowed in suspicion. “Ye lie,” he said again, only this time there was less force behind his words.

  Moira shook her head. “Ask Cormag. He was the one to find me. He pulled me away from the ledge and saved my life.”

  Ian’s jaw clenched, and the deep, dark cold returned to his gaze. “He shouldna have done so.”

  “Perhaps,” Moira whispered, wondering if Cormag had loved her even then. If she died today, she would never now. “But he did nonetheless.” For a long moment, Moira looked at Ian and allowed him to see her, frightened and vulnerable, hoping that a part of him still knew the meaning of compassion.

  A gust of air rushed from Ian’s lungs when he turned away abruptly as though no longer able to bear her eyes on him. “I’ll be back shortly,” he hissed; nevertheless, the words did not sting as they had before. Perhaps a part of him had finally come to see her as human, a person with flaws and fears…just like him.

  Resting her head against the rough bark of the pine, Moira watched him walk away, his steps measured and his gaze scanning the ground. Now and then, he stopped, his hands running over the rock here and there, pulling and pushing as though trying to see if a boulder would come loose.

  The moment he vanished from her sight, picking his way higher up the jutting rocks, Moira finally realised what he was doing, and her heart froze in sheer terror.

  Indeed, he did not simply plan to throw her over the edge. Moira did not know what the bottom of the cliff looked like. Perhaps the sea was deep there, not punctuated by deadly boulders. And if that was the case, what if he pushed her in and she were to survive the fall? What if she managed to swim to safety?

  It would seem Ian did not dare risk that.

  Closing her eyes, Moira could not help but picture herself dropping into the sea, the water closing above her as the heavy boulder tied to her feet pulled her down. Again, she felt the air forced from her lungs, her body straining to breathe, but unable to do so. What would it feel like to drown? To know that there was no way to return to the surface?

  Moira’s body began to shake uncontrollably at the thought, and she wished with every fibre of her being that she could hug her arms around her legs and sink into herself, drawing on what little comfort she could muster.

  But it was impossible. With her hands tied behind the tree, she felt exposed and vulnerable, unable to protect herself, and the panic that lingered in her blood began to spread, seeping into every cell, chilling her bones and lodging the breath in her throat.

  “Moira.”

  At the sound of her name, Moira jerked forward as far as her binds wou
ld allow her. Her eyes widened, and she stared straight ahead, unable to look away from the steep drop in front of her as her muscles tensed; and her heart threatened to jump from her chest.

  The sound had been faint, soft like a whisper carried to her on the wings of the wind. Not truly there, but only something her mind had conjured, reaching for something to hold onto, something to give her comfort.

  Moira’s heart sank, and she slumped back down against the tree.

  The sound of footsteps, soft and almost weightless, carried to her ear, and even though Moira could not turn her head far enough to see, she suddenly knew that she was no longer alone. Was it Ian? Had he rounded the site and was now returning from the east?

  A whinny echoed over from the same direction, and Moira stared at the two horses tied to the branch not far from her. They were both grazing, but their ears flicked at the call of one of their own.

  “Cormag,” Moira whispered, wishing with all her heart that it would be him. Still, her mind insistently pointed out that something was not adding up. If it had been Cormag, he−

  “’Tis me,” came the soft-spoken voice again, and Moira’s head snapped sideways in time to see little Blair step forward from behind the tree, leading a pony by its reins. Her deep blue eyes shone warm and caring as they met Moira’s, and the smile that came to her little face could have melted ice. The wind tugged on her blond tresses and painted a rosy glow onto her cheeks as she dropped the reins and knelt in front of Moira.

  “Blair.” Feeling as though she had strayed into a dream, Moira stared at the little girl, unable to make sense of what she saw. “It canna be true.”

  A smile tickled Blair’s lip. “Aye, ‘tis true.” Then her gaze drifted to the bonds that held Moira captive. She moved, her eyes shifting sideways, and Moira felt her little hands brush against her own as she inspected the knots. “I canna open these. We need a knife.” Then she pushed to her feet and strolled over to her father’s horse.

  Still staring, Moira fought to find her voice. “What…?” she croaked as Blair stepped into the stirrup, pulled herself up and then standing on one leg, rummaged through the saddlebag. A moment later, she had obviously found what she had been looking for because she slid back down to the ground and headed back toward Moira. A small dagger rested in her hand, and she pulled off the sheath as she once again knelt next to the pine.

  “What are ye doing here?” Moira finally managed as the sound of the knife sawing through her bonds drifted to her ears. Could this be truly happening? Had little Blair truly come to her aid? A girl of not even five years?

  The thought was preposterous! This had to be a hallucination of some kind!

  And then the bonds fell away, and Moira’s hands dropped forward, her wrists aching with the sudden relief. Rubbing them, Moira scooted away from the trunk and turned to look at the little girl, who slid the blade back into the sheath with an ease that belied her years. “What are ye doing here? How did ye find me?”

  Blair swallowed, and for a moment, she looked as young as she was. “I came to save my father.”

  “Yer father?” Moira repeated, unable to make sense of the girl’s simple statement. “But…but why? Save him from what?” The thought was quite ludicrous considering that Ian was the one threatening her life and not the other way around.

  “I saw him in danger,” Blair whispered, her blue eyes wide with fear now. “I need to help him.”

  “Ye need to help him,” Moira repeated yet again, her mind numb and sluggish, momentarily unable to process what she had heard. But then a single word stood out from all the others, and her mind pounced on it like a wildcat. “Ye saw?” she demanded, reaching for the girl and grabbing her by the shoulders. “Ye saw?”

  Blair nodded. “Aye, in my dreams.”

  Moira’s eyes closed when the last piece of the puzzle fell into place. Her heart skipped a beat before she found the strength to look at Blair once more.

  And in that moment, Moira saw herself.

  A spark of recognition flared, and the kinship she had always felt toward Blair suddenly made sense. Always had the girl sought her out, her wide blue eyes looking at her as though searching for something. Always had Blair seemed to understand the past Moira had never shared with her. Always had the girl been on her side.

  Always.

  Now, Moira understood why. They were the same, connected by something that went deeper than blood and clan. “What did ye see?” Moira whispered, remembering how overwhelming her dreams had been when she had been a child. They had loomed over her like a monster in the dark, and her child’s mind had looked at them with different eyes, seeing things in a simpler light.

  “I saw a shadow,” Blair whispered as a shiver gripped her body, and she clung tighter to Moira. “It walks behind him, but when he turns, Father doesna see. He’s blind.” Her little hands dug into Moira’s arms. “He doesna see ‘tis coming for him.”

  Confused by the cryptic nature of Blair’s dream, Moira pulled the girl tighter into her arms, trying to soothe the fear that lingered in her blue gaze. “Hush, hush, little one. All will be well.” Her attention drifted back to the cliff where Ian had vanished among the rocks, reminding herself that he would not remain gone forever. Or had something happened to him already? Was that what Blair had seen? Had he…fallen? Or…?

  “I’m sorry he took ye,” Blair mumbled before she lifted her head to Moira’s face. “I didna know he would. I would’ve told him not to.”

  A warm smile came to Moira’s face, and she brushed a grateful hand over the girl’s head. “Thank ye. Ye’re a good friend. But how did ye know where to find us? Did ye see it in yer dreams as well?”

  Blair shook her head. “Naw, I was up when Father left last night. I was afraid the shadow would come for him and so I followed.” She sighed, her eyes becoming distant as she drew forth her memories. “I lost him near the stream and then saw him again when he headed back to the stables. When I saw what he was doing, I had to hurry. I almost didn’t catch up, but then I found yer tracks…and followed them.” She blinked, a proud smile tugging on her lips. “Niall taught me how.”

  Moira hugged Blair close as her mind spun. “I’m proud of ye,” she whispered, grateful for Blair’s interference, but concerned with what to do now.

  Her own survival instincts urged her to get on the horse and put as much distance between her and the man who wished her dead. However, Blair would not leave her father, and Moira knew she could not leave the girl out here on her own.

  After all, she did not know if something had happened to Ian or not. What could that shadow be that Blair had seen? Was someone else out here? Someone who wished to harm Ian? But for what reason?

  Moira’s head spun as she pondered what to do. Perhaps she could−

  “Ye witch!”

  The words cut through the stillness and resonated within Moira as though she had suffered a blow to the stomach. Spinning around, Blair still in her arms, her eyes found Ian standing high up on the cliff above them, a snarl on his face and a darkness in his eyes that knew no bounds.

  “I’ll kill ye for this!”

  “The shadow,” Blair whispered as her hands clenched, her fingers digging into her palms.

  And in that moment, Moira understood.

  A sea gull swooped over the land, and Cormag squinted his eyes, trying to see the horizon where land met sky. Wind whipped across the plain, and he thought to hear the faint echo of waves crashing against timeless rock, which jutted out higher as the hills rose and the country sloped upward. Trees grew denser, blocking their view, and the ground hardened as they approached the western end of Scotland.

  “We’re getting close,” Garrett called over the thundering echo of their horses’ hooves as they pushed them onward without mercy. Then his gaze swept back to the ground, narrowing as he tried to peer at the tracks they had been following for the better part of the day.

  Seeing the frown on Garrett’s face, Cormag signalled to his friend and then re
ined in his horse, knowing that speed meant nothing if they were heading in the wrong direction. Reluctantly, he slid from the saddle and surveyed the ground. “Anything?”

  Garrett shook his head. “The ground is too dry here,” he mumbled, continuing his search. Then he sighed and straightened, his gaze coming to rest on Cormag. “Where is she?”

  Cormag inhaled a deep breath, knowing exactly what his friend was asking. It was this moment Cormag had feared ever since they had set out. The moment when everything tangible was ripped from his grasp, and he had to rely on his gift alone.

  Instantly, doubt pushed to the front, whispering of the consequences of failure, whispering that if he made a wrong choice, Moira would suffer for it.

  “Ye can do this,” Garrett counselled, his voice calm as he stood in front of Cormag. “I know ‘tis not easy with what’s at stake, but ye’ve done it before. Ye can do it again.”

  Cormag nodded and then turned away, resting his forehead against his horse’s neck. He breathed in slowly, trying to slow the erratic beating of his heart. He reminded himself that he had always sensed her…even before he had known her.

  Days before Moira had first arrived at Seann Dachaigh Tower, Cormag had felt a shift in his heart. It had confused him then, that deep sense of expectation that had grown stronger with each step she had taken toward his home, toward him. Day by day, his awareness of her had increased. He had known that she was coming without ever knowing who she was and what she would come to mean to him.

  And then she had stepped into his study, and all had become clear with a single look into her blue, bottomless eyes.

  Moira had truly turned his world upside down.

  Pride surged through his chest, and a smile danced over his lips before he froze, realising that the pride he had felt had not been his own.

  But hers.

  Cormag’s head snapped up and he turned and stared in the direction he suddenly knew her to be.