Page 11 of Rescued By the Highland Warrior
Moira raised an eyebrow, her smirk deepening as though Roderick’s frustrations amused her, as though he was playing into her hands despite his intentions of setting her straight.
“Perhaps I dae, Roderick. Complication keeps people on their toes. Keeps them honest,” she said.
“Honest?” Roderick’s voice lowered; his tone edged with skepticism. “Aye, because ye’ve been so transparent with me.”
Moira’s expression hardened, her amusement fading. “I’m as honest as I need tae be. And if ye truly want answers, Roderick, ye’ll give me the space and time tae gather them. Without yer constant looming.”
Although their voices were still hushed, Roderick found it increasingly difficult to bite back his indignation. Soon he was no longer aware of the music, or their steps in perfect synchronicity, and he directed his frustration completely on Moira, moving even closer to her than he was before.
“Loomin’? Is that what I’m doing now?”
“Aye,” Moira replied coolly, tilting her head to the side “Ye’re loomin’ and watchin’ like a hawk, waiting fer me tae fail. It’s a wonder I can get anything done with yer eyes on me all the time.”
Roderick inhaled deeply, willing himself to stay composed. “If I watch, it’s because I’ve got too much at stake, Moira. Me faither’s murder is nae a game. It’s nae just fer me—this castle, these people—they all deserve the truth. I called in the favor because I thought ye could help.”
“An’ I will,” Moira said firmly, her voice dropping as they moved closer again. “But ye’ll need tae trust that me methods. Unorthodox as they might seem tae ye, they will yield results. Or would ye rather I bungle it, trying tae please ye?”
Roderick stared at her for a long moment, his eyebrows burrowing before he finally spoke. “Fine,” he said softly, the frustration in his voice half-way dissipated. “I’ll give ye the space ye need. But Moira, I’ll warn ye now—if I feel like ye’re nae takin’ this seriously...”
Roderick was cut off by an unexpected change in the air, all the musicians but one lone fiddler player had stopped playing, the sudden shift in tempo signaling the start of a slow dance.
Roderick suddenly became very aware of the subtle sway of Moira’s waist beneath his hand and how her gown clung to her form. He was suddenly acutely attuned to her.
“I’ll leave ye tae it then,” Roderick said, clearing his throat and releasing Moira from his grasp. In an instant, he headed off into the crowd.
“Roderick wait,” she called after him
He paused, mid-step, shoulders stiffening in irritation. The crowd moved around him, oblivious to the tension threading between them. Slowly, he turned, his honey eyes locking onto hers deep green ones, curious, but also exasperated. She moved closer and lowered her voice.
“I’d like tae visit yer faither’s bed chamber as soon as is possible, tae see if there’s anything amiss. Aside from talking tae the inhabitants of this castle,” she suggested, “that would also be a good start.”
The idea of stepping into his father’s private place brought up an array of complex emotions, but for the first time that evening, Roderick agreed with the logic of Moira’s words.
“I’ll see tae it that it is arranged,” Roderick said shortly before leaving Moira to do as she saw fit for the rest of the party.
Moira let out a sigh as he left her to fend for herself but suddenly she felt a little cold without his heat around her. She was no longer in the mood for laughing, as his admonishments had unsettled her, but possibly she was even more unsettled by the shadow of his hand upon her waist.
Moira tried to continue her subtle investigation, but she found it hard to stay there much longer. Sure, the laird had given her what she had asked for–he had left her alone to do her job–but she couldn’t stop thinking of the tension between them during their dance, unpleasant though it had been. And, in truth, many of the guests were drunk past the point of intelligible conversation. She felt the need to be alone—truly alone. So, she left.
By the time she slipped off upstairs, things had died down considerably. She retired to her bedroom, carefully unpacking the things from her case. It was quite silent in her chambers, and she enjoyed the rare moment of solitude, the only sounds the soft rustle of her movements and the creaking floorboards.
After unpacking her clothes Moira reached the essentials, stuffed at the bottom of her black case, hidden between the mundane objects a lady travels with. A notebook, a coin, some daggers, a slingshot, leather gloves and tools that reminded her of so many missions she had gone on before.
It was almost as though she had forgotten about that part of herself. Had Roderick been right? Had she been too distracted at the feast, laughing with Miss Barclay, that she had forgotten what she was there to do?
Moira knew she had to be careful, always on guard as she had been taught. She knew that despite the way the laird, or anyone else made her feel, this mission had to end well. It was a point of pride for her. No matter that she hadn’t chosen this mission herself, anything other than success was not an option.
Moira was startled from her thoughts by a sudden knock. Quickly she covered her case and turned toward the door, her heart quickening. She wondered who it could be at this hour, and her mind raced to the more unsavory options.
Was it someone from the feast? Someone who had heard too much?
“Who is it?” she called, her voice steady and cool despite her anxious state. Usually, Moira wasn’t so jumpy. She’d been on many missions before, but there was something different about this one. Something that was making her feel more vulnerable than usual.
When there was no response, Moira turned the handle cautiously edging the door open just enough for her to peer out into the dimly lit hallway. Immediately, she relaxed and opened the door wide, as she was met with Miss Barclay’s cheerful face.
Miss Barclay’s golden hair was alight with a yellow glow from the surrounding wall sconces, and she smiled warmly at Moira, who was quite relieved after her initial reaction of mistrust. She knew she had nothing to worry about with Miss Barclay.
“Oh, I didnae mean tae disturb ye, Lady Wilson,” she said, her voice smooth and light. “I just wanted tae say how lovely it was meetin’ ye tonight. There really arenae many like ye around.”
