Page 57 of Rescued By the Highland Warrior
As soon as they stepped into the study, Roderick shut the door behind them and turned to face her. “What is it, Moira?” he asked, his voice lower now, edged with concern.
“What were ye talkin’ wi’ Malcolm about?” She demanded. Roderick moved past Moira, further into the room. The tension was already weighing on him, and standing so close to her was too much.
He exhaled sharply, raking a hand through his hair before turning back to her. “It was just clan business, nae anythin’ ye would understand.”
He knew he wouldn’t be able to stay on the fence for much longer, he had to make a choice. Saving the clan by marrying Fiona, giving up the investigation and worst of all, Moira. Or risking it all for the truth and love.
He knew his behavior was hurting her and the wounded expression on her face only made him feel worse.
“An’ why is it nae me business, Roderick? Why would I nae understand?” She asked, stepping closer.
“Well, Moira,” he said. “It is nae as though ye are truly me betrothed. Yer place is wi’ the Triad and I respect that; that is yer choice.”
Moira flinched as though he’d struck her, but she recovered quickly, her eyes flashing with hurt and anger.
“How about yer place, Roderick,” she retorted, her eyes alight. “Ye have nay right tae judge me life or me affiliation. After everythin’ I’ve told ye, I cannae believe ye’d use it against me.”
“If I have nae right tae judge yer life, ye have nae right tae judge mine. It isnae yer place tae ask what I discuss with me councilmen, just as it isnae yer place tae be in this clan.”
“Well, ye have made very sure tae remind me of me place since this mornin’, havenae ye?” Moira shouted, her voice sharp with emotion that cut through the tense air in the room. “I ken well that me place isnae next tae ye.”
Something about the way she spoke made Roderick hesitate. It tempered his anger a little, as though the sharpness of her words had pierced through his defenses. There was a raw honesty in her voice that he hadn’t expected—and more than anything he was reminded of why he didn’t want to see her hurt.
“Ye’re the one who told me,” he said calmly, though his voice was vulnerable now too, “that ye are only here tae fulfil a mission. Ye’re the one who wants tae leave an’ move on wi’ yer life.”
“I never said that!” She cried. “But yes, I would like tae return tae me life as it was.”
Moira’s arms folded firmly across her chest, and she stared out the window, her mouth set in a line that quivered as she tried to gather herself. It looked as though she was going to cry.
And it was that look that finally sent Roderick over the edge. He realized with clarity that he didn’t want to be fighting with her, he didn’t want to hurt her. All he wanted was for her to be close so that he could touch her the way he had the night before. He remembered how tender she had been then, and he could see it in her now.
“Moira,” he said softly, walking toward her, his steps deliberate and slow. The sun streamed in through the window, casting a shadowy glow between them as he searched for her eyes. “Look at me.”
She refused, staring fixedly at the window.
He took one hand to her face, gently lifting her chin until their eyes met, his touch tentative yet firm, as though afraid she might break beneath his fingers. He could feel the warmth of her skin, the tremble in her breath, but he also sensed the wall she’d built between them.
He couldn’t exactly blame her after how everything had gone.
“Dae ye want tae leave me?” He asked her, his voice rough, feeling as though the future of his entire well-being rested solely on her response.
But Moira didn’t respond, instead there was a glint in her eye that betrayed a desire. Roderick recognized it as a deep hunger that matched his own.
“I ken,” Roderick said, pulling Moira toward him by her waist, his lips falling gently to the side of her warm neck, “that ye dinnae want tae leave me.”
He continued to kiss her, his lips moving slowly, softly against her skin. Moira’s breath hitched, her hands trembling as they found their way to his chest, pressing against him as if to pull him closer, yet also to hold him at bay.
But soon her hands softened, and she gave in—turning her head slightly to meet his lips with her own.
They hovered there for a moment, on the edge—Roderick’s heart beating fervently as his eyes slowly closed.
He could wait no longer. He brought his lips to hers, and it was as though a dam had broken inside of him. He kissed her with so much force that he felt himself plummeting beyond the point of control.
It was reckless, and unproductive, counterintuitive even—but there was nothing that could make him to stop.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Roderick’s tongue danced with hers, as she brought her hands to the back of his head. Her desire for him, the uncomfortable need that had been brewing wickedly inside her all day finally exploded into something tangible.
