Page 33 of Rescued By the Highland Warrior
She saw Roderick crouching by her. She creeped forward, careful to stay hidden, to get a closer look. She was close enough now to make out what he was saying.
“What is wrong wi’ ye, wee lassie?” He asked, his voice soft, “there’s nay reason tae be lookin’ so sad.”
“I cannae find me maither,” she wailed.
Roderick’s expression softened even further, his eyes filled with a mix of sympathy and concern.
“Ah, yer maither’s lost, ye say?” he murmured, his voice low and comforting. “Let’s see if we cannae find her together, aye?”
The young bairn nodded, wiping her tears.
Moira watched as Roderick picked up the child, taking her around the market, as he stopped at each stall. Her chest tightened as she too felt sympathy for the young bairn, and admiration that Roderick would be so gentle and caring.
She watched as he gently cradled the child in his arms and followed him until he eventually found what appeared to be the mother.
Moira’s heart swelled involuntarily, as Roderick passed the child back to her bewildered mother. The mother’s eyes glistened with tears of relief as she whispered something that Moira could not hear.
In response, he went to the closest market stall and bought the little girl a slice of frosted cake. Her face, still blotchy from crying, broke into a smile, as she reached out her hands to accept it.
As he walked away, she took a few steps forward, still keeping her distance, but unable to stop herself from following his movements. Something about the way Roderick had behaved had replaced her previous anger with a certain, unexpected, warmth toward him. It still felt strange to her to have these unusual feelings, and she couldn’t make sense of it at all, but there was something that urged her to get closer to him. An uncontrollable force that willed it.
As she saw Roderick get back onto his horse and ride in the direction of the castle, she immediately snapped herself out of it. Just because he made her feel things she wasn’t used to feeling, it didn’t mean that she had to feel vulnerable. Moira, got back on her horse and followed him to the castle, the cold air doing little to cool her thoughts.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Roderick sat in his study, warmed by a crackling fire as he swirled a small glass of whisky in his hand. His excursion the day before had helped him get out of his head a little, and he had finally managed to catch up on some sleep. But after a day of thinking over what the Council had discussed, speaking to Cameron, and writing several letters to neighboring clans to ask for help, his mind drifted to all the thoughts he had had before.
He thought back to what his mother had said to him, about looking forward and finding joy. Joy felt impossible to him now. Even if he managed to solve the case of his father’s death, how was he even going to begin to feel normal again?
He thought about Moira and wondered whether his fate was destined to be the same as hers. Was he to turn cold? Destined to lead a life without warmth due to a tragedy over which he had no control?
He hated how harsh he was with her. It was unnecessary, and he really felt a lot of empathy for her, so much that it made his heart ache. Why then, did he speak so cruelly? Why was he so unyielding with her?
He thought again to what his mother said about his ‘betrothed’. There was some truth to it, he had to admit, if only to himself. He did feel something for Moira and he wondered whether he kept pushing her away for a simple reason. Because he was maddened by his empathy toward her for her apparent coldness and her lack of joy, so similar to his own.
Either way, he didn’t want her to leave—for reasons other than needing her assistance in solving his father’s case.
He had barely seen her the whole day, having been so occupied with clan problems, but he knew she had been looking around the castle and trying to chat with people to get some information. When he had crossed her in a hallway earlier in the evening, she had told him she had not really discovered anything interesting.
Two soft knocks sounded from his study door interrupting his musings, and Moira walked in holding a small flame. Her face was illuminated by the candle, but her jet-black hair faded into the darkness, so that all Roderick could fully make out were her mesmerizing green eyes.
He hadn’t realized how dark it was in his study until now.
“Roderick?” She whispered, her voice tinged with a hint of longing. Although, perhaps he was imagining that.
“Moira,” he said back. There was a certain intimacy to the manner in which they spoke, for in some ways the darkness demanded it, even though Moira was only halfway through the door. “What are ye doin’ here?”
“Apologies,” she said. “I didnae expect to see anyone here, I just came tae look at the study tae see if I could find anything o’ use.”
Roderick’s guilt intensified for the way he had spoken to her before. He realized, that in moments of stress, he was prone to speaking harshly, and he had been unduly impatient with her, as Moira had pointed out to him.
He managed to keep it together around his Council, but for some reason, with her, he lost control, and was more prone to succumbing to his instincts.
“Nay, that’s all right,” he said. “Sorry about the darkness, ye can come in.”
Roderick got up from his chair and lit a few more candles to illuminate the place as Moira closed the door. She walked around the study, gazing at the walls, her hand passing over a grand case of books.
Roderick watched her, the quiet rustling of her movements filling the silence between them. He felt calmed by her presence, and although he had complained about it before, her coolness soothed him. It settled the fire of his thoughts.
