Page 51 of Rescued By the Highland Warrior
Roderick remained silent, his jaw tightening as he shifted on his feet. That hesitation, that flicker in his gaze, told her everything.
Moira’s breath caught sharply. “Ye did read them, didnae ye? What did they say?” she asked, her words lingering in the air.
Roderick exhaled sharply, running a hand across his face. “They’re nae relevant tae the case, so there’s naething tae tell.”
While Moira respected his privacy, the lingering coldness in his tone sent a shiver through her. He was shutting her out, building walls where there had been absolutely none the night before. The contrast was stark, difficult to digest—but Moira knew that whatever it was, it was one hundred percent related to what was in those letters.
She knew better than to pry, or to force it out of him–so instead she decided to meet him at his level, a trick she had practiced many times before.
“Aye,” she said. “Very well then. At least we tried.”
“We really should be heading out,” Roderick continued, his face devoid of emotion. “I have business tae attend tae back at the castle.”
“Aye,” Moira responded. “We’ll leave right away, let me just get meself together.”
He nodded before promptly heading toward the door.
“Roderick,” she said, his name involuntarily escaping her lips.
He stopped in his tracks.
“Aye, Moira?”
She hesitated, unable to find the words she wanted to say.
“Naething,” she sighed. “Just mak’ sure the horses are ready,” she said, her voice steady, though the words felt strange on her tongue.
Roderick gave a curt nod, his gaze flickering briefly over her before he turned and walked out of the room.
Once he was gone, Moira gathered her things in haste. It wasn’t usually difficult for her to push past her emotions, but this time it was different, she had never experienced anything like last night before. No one had ever touched her like that.
She dressed quickly, freshening herself up before heading outside to meet Roderick, where the sun felt like a cruel joke. The brightness felt wrong against the heaviness in her heart that she would never admit to.
He turned to look as she came up behind him, though he showed no signs of seeing her at all. He was ghostlike, and Moira pretended that she didn’t care, smiling falsely.
“Ye ready?” She asked.
“Aye,” he said, “I’ll just go lock up.”
Once Roderick locked up the cabin and placed the key back where he had found it, he mounted his horse without another word. Moira followed suit, her mind continuously drifting to the night before no matter how much she tried to focus on the path ahead.
She remembered with bitter clarity the words she said to him before they fell asleep.Promise me ye willnae forget this moment.
Moira knew that he couldn't have forgotten, but he was acting differently.Too differently. Something had changed to make him so cold, and she knew, even though he wasn’t admitting it, that it was those letters.
Unless he was both cruel and a liar, which she knew he was not. Still, even knowing that didn’t stop the pain that came with feeling completely rejected after she had just opened herself up for the first time in her life and given him her most precious gift.
As her horse galloped on behind Roderick’s, the birds chirped cheerfully in the trees and the sun beat down on them both. The frost looked beautiful, as did the glistening remnants of the storm, but Moira felt none of its beauty. It was as if the world had decided to mock her—shining so brightly while a cold, hollow feeling settled deep in her chest.
She wished the storm was still there instead. But she kept her gaze ahead, watching Roderick’s broad back as he rode in silence. He never turned, never slowed—he appeared indifferent, unlike his behavior from the day before.
While Roderick rode, his thoughts tormented him. He felt terrible for how he had been treating Moira all morning and he could see the hurt in her eyes, although she was feigning indifference, and it was nearly killing him. The previous night had been incredible, he had felt things for Moira he had never experienced before for any other woman, but he had to seriously consider his father’s words and give his last wishes a possibility. As laird, he had to stop thinking about his own heart’s desire and focus on what was best for his clan.
Suddenly, Roderick’s horse shifted beneath him, its ears flicking back, and he could hear the faint sound of Moira’s mare snorting—a sound of unease. His senses sharpened, and he glanced over his shoulder just in time to see her horse stumble slightly, its hooves slipping, almost unseating Moira.
Instantly he turned around, heading toward her, and jumped down from his horse.
But before he could reach her, Moira had managed to grip her reins tightly, and she regained her balance, her expression calm and her posture composed.
