Page 32 of Rescued By the Highland Warrior
Moira’s hands clenched into fists at her sides, and she took a short breath to steady her anger. “Wrong tae place yer faith in me?” she repeated, her voice threatening to break its calm tone. “Roderick, ye dragged me intae this matter, an’ I’d urge ye nae tae speak on things ye dinnae understand. If anything, ye should be careful nae tae waste mine an’ the Triad’s time, nae the other way round.”
“I dinnae understand it, ye tell me nae tae speak on things I dinnae understand—but ye never explain what they are. What is it that I’m missin’?”
“The Triad took me in when me family was killed. I grew up with the organization, an’ at one point in me life, all I could think about was revenge. But wi’ time, an’ wi’ the help o’ the Triad I grew stronger. I realized that chasin’ vengeance daesnae serve anybody, nae even serve yerself.” There was something in the earnestness of his voice that weakened her, but she kept her tone cold.
Moira had never told anyone outside of the Triad this before, and for some reason, despite her anger, she felt comfortable telling him. She felt that it was something he needed to hear, and she’d been thinking of saying it all along, although only when provoked just now, did she find the words.
“Aye,” Roderick said. “I can see that the Triad has made ye strong, but they’ve made ye cold too, Moira. As cold as ice.”
“Ye cannae understand the things I went through tae survive,” Moira said, her words steady and calm. “Livin’ as a laird in yer castle with everythin’ ye could ever need. I went hungry, cold—there was nay one tae save me. If ye think I’m cold now, it is only because that is what the world required o’ me, as yer world requires yer action from ye.”
Roderick smiled, shaking his head. “There it is. There’s the real Moira—willingly hardened by the world, unyieldin’, an’ sharp-tongued. Ye hide behind that mask o’ kindness an’ civility when wi’ others, but if only they kent...”
Somehow Roderick had managed to get to her, really get to her, past the surface level layers of her anger and frustration. He had touched on a wound that Moira didn’t feel like re-opening, and she wasn’t sure how much longer she could stand there listening to his assessment of her.
“That’s enough. Ye’re the one who called me cold an’ calculatin’. Ye have nay place tae judge me thoughts or actions, an’ now I would like ye tae leave.”
Moira walked away from him, standing in front of the window with her back to Roderick, her arms crossed firmly against her chest. If she hadn’t been trained in managing her emotions, she would have felt like crying—but all Moira could think about was that she needed space from him.
He didn’t speak any further, and she watched his reflection on the glass of the window, waiting for what would do next. A fleeting shadow of what appeared to be sadness crossed over his eyes, and he let out a heavy sigh.
He turned away from her, and Moira watched as he closed the doors.
She stood there for a while, gazing out at the grey skies, wondering why she felt the need to explain herself to Roderick, and what exactly the problem was with her being so cold.
Moira must have been standing there, gazing out of the window for a while, but she was only momentarily taken out of her trance when she noticed a figure moving toward the stables. The skies were even darker than before, and it was nearing sunset, but even in the diminishing light, she recognized who it was.
After a few moments, she noticed Roderick leaving the stable with a horse. He pulled it behind him, and once stationary, he placed a foot on the stirrup before swinging himself up onto the saddle in one smooth motion.
As Roderick rode off, something inside her urged her to follow.
Where was he goin’?
She had just shared something very intimate with him, and now he was leaving? She couldn’t explain it to herself, but for some reason, she pulled away from the window, hastily put on her coat, and raced down the stairs.
The castle was quiet, and she rushed to the stables without trouble, mounting a horse faster than seemed possible and raced off. The cold evening air bit at her cheeks as she urged the animal forward, the hooves of her steed pounding against the earth in a steady rhythm.
She was a good rider, and soon she noticed his horse ahead of her in the distance, moving further and further away from the castle, following a winding path. She made sure to follow him at a safe distance.
It wasn’t the first time that Moira had had to follow someone undetected, so she was particularly good at it too.
Eventually, Roderick stopped at a small town that was nestled in a hollow between two rolling hills. The town was small, but charming, made up of narrow cobbled streets, weathered stone cottages, and market stalls selling food and goods.
She tied her horse to a tree in a hidden area at the edge of the town, an area that Roderick would not have to pass to get back home. As she got down from her horse, she made her way into the town, that was already beginning to quieten down for the evening. She treaded carefully, watching Roderick who was illuminated by the faint glow of lanterns that lined the streets.
What are ye daein’ here?
At first, she considered that he might have been there investigating, but as she continued watching, she noticed that he wasn’t speaking to anyone at all. Instead, he kept to himself, walking along the stalls, and stopping only to look at produce—before continuing ahead.
Eventually, he stopped at a small tavern. Moira watched as he came outside, standing against the wall, a chalice of ale in hand. He stood there, drinking slowly, not speaking to anyone, seemingly lost in the deepest of thoughts.
The townspeople she saw didn’t seem to take notice of him either, or at least, if they did, they were too wrapped up in their own business to give him a second glance. He seemed at ease, as though he had come here countless times before.
Once finished with his drink, he went walking around the stalls once more. He moved more quickly this time, before coming suddenly to a halt.
Moira realized that she was too close, and instantly rushed to hide behind a stack of crates near the side of one of thestalls. Her heart hammered through her chest as she stayed there for a moment, and after a few seconds, she slowly peeked out again. She noticed that Roderick was finally talking to someone—a young bairn.
The bairn was crying, she must have been just a few years old, and her face was flushed red, as streaks of tears poured down her face.
