Page 2 of Rescued By the Highland Warrior
Roderick.
He was leaning against a pillar, his honey-colored eyes fixed intently on her, as though trying to unravel her thoughts. Moira stole a couple of glances at hi, as she continued to greet the others. She’d have stared longer if she could have.
Eventually, after they had all been introduced, with Moira offering polite smiles and a few kind words to each, Lady Fraser redirected her attention.
“Now lass,” Lady Fraser said, “I’m sure this is the one ye’ve been waitin’ tae greet. An’ what better than tae save the best till last?”
With her arm still looped through Moira’s, Lady Fraser guided her through the small crowd toward the pillar where Roderick stood.
Finally, Moira could truly look at him. Face to face, she took in the man she faintly remembered from years ago. He was bigger now, both his presence and stature, towering above her— so much so that Moira had to crane her neck to meet his gaze.
Despite his size, and the faint scar etched across his right brow, he exuded the type of authority that Moira immediately recognized as benevolent rather than oppressive. She remembered that about him—that he had seemed like a good man.
A faint smile tugged at Roderick’s lips, softening his sharp features as his eyes held hers. He gazed at Moira with an expression that was both welcoming and calm, his steadiness causing the crowd and the rest of the room to fade away.
“Ah, I’m glad ye could make it,” he said, his voice low and smooth. “It’s good tae see ye again.”
“And ye,” Moira replied softly. She wasn’t entirely sure how she was meant to behave, so she opted for subtlety—at her core, Moira was well versed in theatrics after a lifetime of training. She hesitated, wondering if she ought to add more, but Roderick quickly bridged the silence, turning toward his mother with an easy authority.
“Maither,” he began, his tone warm yet firm, “Lady Wilson is likely worn from the journey. She’s met everyone now, and I think it’s best she be shown tae her chambers. A bit of rest would dae her good before the feast tonight. Dinnae ye agree?”
“Aye, that’s a wise thought,” Lady Fraser agreed, her face softening with pride as she glanced between her son and the young woman by his side. There was a fragile hopefulness to her expression, Moira noticed, as though this moment of joy was one that Lady Fraser desperately needed.
Roderick turned to one of the maids standing nearby, his commanding tone calm but firm. “See tae it that Lady Wilson is taken tae her room and has all she needs afore the betrothal feast this evening.”
“Aye, me laird,” the old maid replied, dipping her head and stepping forward. “Follow me, miss. I’ll show ye tae yer chambers.”
Moira let out a silent sigh of relief, grateful to have been spared further conversation. While everyone had been kind enough, she still felt out of place, unsure of what she was doing there and wary of questions she might struggle to answer. Though part of her yearned to be back home, she followed the maid through the hall and up a grand, winding staircase.
She resisted the urge to glance back at Roderick even though she was certain his gaze lingered on her. Instead, she focused on keeping up with the maid, who was moving at an increasingly rapid pace. After a while, for the stairs felt as long as they were wide, they reached the third floor. The maid led Moira to the end of the corridor, where she opened the doors to a large bedroom adorned with rich burgundy tapestries and heavy oak furniture.
In the center of the room stood a grand four-poster bed with deep purple curtains, tied back neatly. A hearth on the far wall opposite the bed glowed with a crackling fire, giving the space a comforting warmth.
“This’ll be yer room, me lady,” the maid said with a warm smile.
Moira nodded. “Thank ye.”
“I’ll unpack yer bags,” the maid said, heading over to Moira’s cases, which had been carefully placed by the foot of the bed. Moira had almost forgotten about those.
“That’s quite alright,” she interjected quickly, stepping between the maid and her belongings. “Nay need tae worry about that.”
Confusion flickered across the maid’s face. “But it’s nay trouble at all,” she replied. “It’s me duty tae help ye get settled.”
“Ye could greatly ye help me by preparing a bath, if that is nae too much of a bother?” Moira suggested, her tone deliberately slow and calm. “What I really need is a nice, warm bath.”
The maid nodded, satisfied. Of course, it made sense that Lady Wilson would want to get washed and prepared for the feast. Lowering her head in a slight bow, she left the chambers, closing the heavy doors behind her.
Moira sat down at the edge of the bed, about to take her boots off, when a firm knock suddenly echoed through the room. She jumped slightly, then quickly rose to her feet. Her heart was beating fast, for there was only one person who could be behind that door when she opened it.
Roderick.
His commanding presence was a bit intimidating but also familiar. His soft honey eyes were trained on her with a serious intensity that caused her body to tighten. They were alone, for the first time in many years.
“It’s good tae see ye again, Moira” he said, his voice low and steady. He stepped inside without hesitation, his broad shoulders seeming to fill the room. “I cannae tell ye how long I’ve waited fer this moment.”
He closed the door behind him and Moira turned to face him, her expression guarded. “I wish it were under happier circumstances, Roderick,” she replied, her tone even. “But nay joyful occasion could have brought me here, I ken that much.”
Roderick didn’t respond, but he walked slowly across the room toward the fire, his boots sounding loudly across the floor. Despite the tension, Moira felt more comfortable alone in his presence than she had among the rest of the people downstairs.
