Page 7 of Rescued By the Highland Warrior
“It isnae anythin’ short o’ a wonderful evenin’,” Moira said, her words smooth as she glanced at the table. “The food looks delicious.”
“Well thank ye, me dear. Plenty o’ time fer eatin’, drinkin’, an’ dancin’—we prepare feasts as best we can here at Castle Fraser, ye’ll come tae learn that, dear. Isnae that right, Roderick?”
“Aye,” he replied with a nod. “We like tae mak’ sure everyone feels at home. What’s life without enjoyment an’ good company, after all?”
“Nae worth living,” a voice called from further down the table. Moira followed the sound and realized that it had belonged to a large, bearded lad.
“Lady Wilson, ye must meet me good friend an’ a trusted member o’ our Council, Mr. Ewan,” Roderick said, raising his cup to the man and speaking louder, his voice carrying above the lively commotion.
“A pleasure,” Moira said, nodding and offering a polite smile.
Similarly to earlier that day, Moira was introduced one by one, to more of Roderick’s friends, family, and Council members, trying her best to size them up accordingly. Replacing the internal fluster from her initial arrival, was the commotion of the party and the onslaught of wine and food, that caused the faces and names to blur into one, making her initial assessment confusing to the say least.
Still, Moira remained sharp, she had a job to do after all. She kept a keen eye out for any signs that might help her with the true purpose of her presence. She analyzed what she could with the information she had, holding onto anything she deemed potentially significant, and storing it for later.
She ate and drank, mimicking the looseness of those around her, and swaying to the music every now and then when it felt appropriate, to prove she was having a good time.
“An’ what are parties like at Castle Wilson?” One of Roderick’s cousin’s asked, “are they as rowdy as this?”
“Well,” Moira began, trying to remember her name but to no avail. She breathed out a gentle sigh as her eyes darted to the young lady across the table. “They can be, but I must say, the food here at Castle Fraser is unparalleled, an’ so is the music—it’s a joy tae me ears an’ a warmth tae me heart.”
Roderick’s cousin smiled back at her, clearly satisfied with her kind answer. While Moira hoped her playacting was up to par as she danced around questions intended for the fictitious representation of herself.
If her circumstances had been different—and if this mission had been of her own choosing—she might have even been having fun. But that was not the case, she was almost painfully aware of her ‘betrothed’, the laird, just a few inches from her, distracting and impossible to avoid.
Somehow, as he conversed with others around him, his low voice seemed to sound above all other sounds and for some reason, that bothered her. She found it difficult to hear it and not listen, her attention almost magnetically drawn to him.
“An’ what dae ye think ye will miss the most from home?” Roderick’s cousin asked, her wide eyes filled with curiosity.
Before Moira could speak, she felt Roderick’s gaze upon her, and immediately her attention shifted toward him. His body angled in Moira’s direction, and he spoke on her behalf. “Now, we dinnae want Lady Wilson thinking too much about home or she shall get homesick. She has a new home now and we are finally together, isnae that right, me lady?”
Something inside Moira turned cold. It was harder to charade when she was with him. “Yes,” she said bluntly, “I couldnae have said it better meself.”
The chatter continued around them, and Roderick stole a moment to whisper into her ear, his breath blowing a soft warmth onto her neck. “Is everythin’ all right? Is there aught else ye need?”
“I’m fine,” she muttered uncomfortably under her breath, looking anywhere but into his eyes.
The fact that their apparent intimacy was reminiscent of a real couple sat strangely with her. It was good for the facade, but disconcerting nonetheless.
Before he could continue whispering in her ear, something stopped him. Coming toward them was a rugged man with auburn hair and piercing green eyes. He looked serious at first, so serious that he seemed to be frowning–but Roderick stood to greet him and, in an instant, he broke into a warm smile.
“Aye, me laird,” the man joked, bowing comically before him. “A feast fit fer a king, an’ who are we but yer humble servants?”
“The fattest, laziest, most well-fed men I’ve ever had the misfortune tae be around.”
The two men laughed and Roderick embraced him warmly as they patted each other firmly on the back.
“It’s good tae see ye in high spirits,” the man said, darting his gaze to Moira. “An’ I’m sure ye’ve got yer good reasons, nae doubt.”
“Aye, an’ ye,” Roderick responded, “How's yer hand?”
“Stronger by the day,” the man grinned. “Almost strong enough tae tak’ ye out, me laird.”
“Aye, ye’ll be waitin’ a long time fer that.”
Moira noticed that the man seemed both genuine and kind, and much closer to Roderick than anyone else.
“Me lady,” Roderick said, “this is Cameron Murray—a member o’ our Council an’ a royal pain in the arse.”
