Page 27 of Rescued By the Highland Warrior
She looked tired, her eyes faintly weary, and she was sat at the large wooden desk drinking a small cup of tea.
“Perhaps better than ye,” she chuckled. “What bothers ye, Roderick?”
“Why would ye think that I am bothered?”
“Son,” she sighed. “I ken ye very well, and it's nay secret ye’ve been bothered fer quite some time. Perhaps I used the wrong word just now, what I meant tae ask is what is it that ye’d like tae bother me wi’?”
Isobel smiled kindly at her only son, and Roderick knew instantly that there was no being tactful with her.
He closed the door gently behind him and took a step closer. “I wanted tae ask ye about faither’s last moments… about how he died.”
Isobel’s expression turned, and she settled her teacup onto the table, the rattling noise jarring the silence before she turned back to him. “Roderick, I dinnae wish tae focus on that right now. It’s in the past, we should be lookin’ toward the future.”
“Maither,” Roderick said, “that’s what I’ve been doin’. But I need tae ken, although I am aware it’s painful fer ye. Believe me, I’d rather put it tae rest too, but I need tae ken what happened—we must talk.”
Isobel’s solemn look was replaced by a faint smile, “Roderick,” she said. “Ye’re betrothed, ye have a lovely wife-tae-be, and trust me, I see the way ye look at her. All I can think about these days is how excited I am that ye have finally found someone ye love. There’s nay point lookin’ back on the past when the future’s so bright.”
Roderick’s words caught in the back of his throat; he hadn’t been expecting her to say that. The way he looked at her? He hadn’t realize that he had been looking at her in any kind of way at all. Was their acting so good that they were fooling even his own mother?
However, his mother was right when she said that she knew him well, and so Roderick wondered—did he feel something for Moira? She was brilliant, different, and mysterious. Of course, she was bonnie as well, he had been aware of that from the first moment he had seen her.
But she was only there to do a job. She wasn’t who his mother thought she was, and there was no way that Roderick could even entertain the idea.
She is just fascinating, nothing more.
He had to stay focused, and he had to look past any frivolous stirrings that may distract him from his path toward vengeance.
CHAPTER TEN
“Iappreciate ye takin’ tae Lady Wilson an’ our relationship so well, Maither.” Roderick said, regaining his focus. Roderick shook the thought of Moira from his mind, for whether his mother saw something genuine between them or not was unimportant.
Whatever he felt or did not feel toward Moira, he reminded himself, was not the reason why he had gone to his mother’s study that afternoon. He couldn’t help but think that she, despite her best of intentions, was trying to distract him from his initial question. But he could not desist.
“Please,” Roderick continued “tell me somethin’, anythin’, about Faither ‘afore his death. Anythin’ that ye can.”
She sighed, her shoulders sinking. “There’s nay use searching fer conspiracies, Roderick, or what ye could have done. What’s happened, happened.”
“Maither,” he said softly, taking a step closer, as his eyes locked onto hers. He could see the pain she’d been masking beneath her smile ever since his father had died.
It was difficult for him too, but he had to press on. “I’m nae askin’ fer a tale o’ betrayal, I’d just like tae ken how he was up until his last breath.”
Isobel looked away, her blue eyes sweeping beyond the window toward the towering hills. She appeared to be weighing something in her mind, and her was the most solemn he’d seen it for a while.
“Yer faither,” she said silently, “was very sick. He had problems breathin’ and some light vomitin’. There was naething out o’ the ordinary, just what ye’d expect after eatin’ something that had gone off.”
Her words hung in the air for a few moments, and then silence fell as Roderick glanced out the window too, pondering her words. He wondered, could there really have been something, in that large expanse of rolling green hills that could have made his father so sick? He clung to the hope that Moira would figure it out.
Deciding not to press her further on the subject for the moment, Roderick turned to face her, his tone earnest. “Thank ye, Maither.” he said, “I appreciate ye tellin’ me that.”
Roderick didn’t think the information he gathered from her would be enough, but he didn’t want to distress her more than he already had.
“Enough o’ that,” she said, taking in a breath and turning to face him, as her usual smile returned to her face. “Ye have much tae look forward tae wi’ that bride of yers, and this castle is goin’ tae be filled wi’ naething but joy an’ laughter.”
“Aye,” he said, looking into her eyes as his chest filled with guilt. He’d find some way to make everyone happy, his mother especially, he promised himself. “It will be, dinnae worry, Maither.”
“Well, I’m sure ye have plenty tae be seein’ tae,” she said, waving her hand dismissively, her tone light.
Roderick gave a small nod, the weight of his responsibilities settling back onto his shoulders. “Aye, a laird’s work is never done.”
