Page 18 of Rescued By the Highland Warrior
“Nay,” Roderick said pensively, leaning back in his chair. While he didn’t want to jeopardize the plan he had set up with Moira, Roderick also believed in the necessity of addressing the problems in his Council head on.
“Let’s dae a vote, if that’ll put the matter to rest–I’d at least like tae see where all of ye stand.”
Murmurs spread across the room, and then slowly came the sounds of wooden chairs creaking across the stone floors as one by one each of the members of the Council stood up from the table to make their choice.
Roderick watched carefully as Lennox marched defiantly to the right-side of the room, followed by Malcolm, and Cameron to the left. The others followed, some with more deliberation, others with a quiet certainty.
After a few minutes, once Roderick was sure that he had counted his men properly, he was shocked to discover that there was an equal number of members on each side. He counted again and the result was unchanged.
What daes this mean?
Roderick couldn’t simply ignore the wishes of his Council, even if they didn’t really understand what was going on. He had to prove that he was taking the matter seriously, but still, he needed more time.
“I see,” he said, standing abruptly. “Ye have given me much tae think about and think on it I will. Council dismissed.”
There was an air of finality to his tone despite his inner turmoil, and he walked out of the Council’s chamber determined more than ever to solve his father’s case quickly.
CHAPTER SEVEN
As promised, Moira went to meet Miss Barclay in the castle’s gardens early that morning. The sun had just risen, and though she hadn’t slept much that night, she decided to get on with her day. Once she saw the first rays of light streaming through her windows, she seized the opportunity to escape her restless state. She had much to do in very little time; the mystery around the former laird’s death was not going to solve itself.
She dressed warmly, wrapping herself in a thick cloak to shield against the lingering chill of the frosty morning. Luckily there weren’t too many people loitering around the area that led onto the gardens, so Moira walked through without having to explain herself or waste time in idle chitchat.
The gardens were almost silent, sparkling beneath the soft light of the morning. Her breath clouded in front of her as she made her way to the central fountain, its water frozen in delicate patterns.
As she looked around her, she found a stone bench to perch on nearby. Moira pulled her cloak tighter over her shoulders and let her gaze wander across the stillness.
Why had she taken so much pleasure in making Roderick smile last night? That was not what she had come to Castle Fraser to do. And even though the laird bothered her with his impatience and impulsiveness, part of her was beginning to warm to him.
She waited there for some time, lost in her thoughts. Moira did not mind spending time alone, and actually enjoyed the time for herself. After a while, she heard the faint crunch of footsteps trailing across the frosty grass.
“Moira,” Miss Barclay’s familiar, cheery voice sang. “Ye came!”
She stood up and embraced Miss Barclay warmly. “O’ course I came!”
Having grown up in the Triad, her life had been filled with missions, constantly moving from one place to the next, so it wasn’t easy for Moira to trust people, open up or make lasting attachments.
After her family was killed, she had become more sharp-edged and guarded. She had no comforting childhood memories, had had no warm embraces to soothe her, so over time, she had become colder, detached, keeping everyone at arm's length out of necessity and then habit. In the meantime, however, through the silent observation of others she had learned to cultivate a thorough understanding of people. From the moment she had met Miss Barclay, she knew that the woman was someone she could trust and Moira had warmed to her instantly.
“I was worried ye might change yer mind,” she laughed. “It’s nae exactly a warm out here this mornin’."
Moira smiled softly, a playful glint in her eyes. “An' yet, here ye are, bravin' the cold just like mesel'. What excuse could I possibly have?”
Arabella nodded, “Aye, that’s true. An’ ye’re an early riser too.”
“I like tae seize the day, an' ye werenae wrong about these gardens in the mornin' light. They're beautiful.”
The palace gardens were a breathtaking sight, acres of sparkling greenery that seemed to stretch to the horizon. Majestic stone arches, intricately woven with frozen ivy all around them, and snow-dusted rose bushes, trimmed to perfection.
The symmetry was impressive, making the gardens feel as though they were almost too perfect to be real.
“Come,” Miss Barclay said linking her arm with Moira’s. “Let me show ye the best part.”
She led Moira through the gardens, past the icy fountain, and they wound their way through a maze of neatly trimmed shrubbery.
At the center of the maze was a hidden rose garden, sheltered from the harshest of the winter elements. Despite the season, like magic, roses of all colors bloomed, their petals rimmed with frost that sparkled like fine lace. The air was still, and the place felt so quiet that Moira felt truly hidden for the first time since she’d come to the castle.
“It is beautiful,” she said thoughtfully, looking around. “An’ quiet.”
