Page 39 of Rescued By the Highland Warrior
“An’ are ye lookin’ forward tae that?”
Moira hesitated, caught off guard by the question and the way he asked it—softly, yet with an undercurrent of meaning she couldn’t quite place. She straightened her posture, as though that might shield her from the vulnerability in his gaze.
No one had ever asked her if she was looking forward to a mission before, how she felt was irrelevant, or at least it was supposed to be.
“The key tae a good mission,” Moira said, “is tae always be lookin’ forward tae it.”
Roderick tilted his head, his expression unreadable but his eyes keen. "That sounds more like survival than livin’, Moira."
Her lips tightened into a thin line, the weight of his words settling heavily in her chest. "It’s the way things are," she replied, “I dinnae have the luxury of livin’ like ye folk dae, although, I must admit I’m nae looking forward tae this mission endin’.”
“Ye’re nae?”
With Roderick so close, she felt the need to be honest with him and with herself. It was dangerous, but she couldn’t stop herself. She wasn’t looking forward to this mission ending, but why? She decided that it was due to a multitude of reasons, and not all of them had to be shared.
“Nay. This place, the nature, is so beautiful. And I like the castle and all the people that live here… I feel like I have started to make some friends… I dinnae ken where I’ll end up next,” Moira said, her face upturning into a smile. “An’ who kens, maybe I’ll be paired up in another fake betrothal with a laird far worse than ye.”
“Och,” Roderick smiled. “An’ there I was thinkin’ that I may be the worst of them all.”
Moira couldn't help the soft laugh that escaped her. "Ye’re certainly nae the worst, Roderick," she said, her tone lighter now. "Though ye might come close when ye’re being particularly infuriatin’."
“Aye,” he said. “So why leave after this mission? Why leave yer fate up tae chance?”
It was difficult for her to speak about these things, and she looked away, pretending to study the flames licking at the logs in the hearth.
“Ye dinnae need tae answer if ye dinnae want,” Roderick said.
“Nae, it’s fine,” Moira responded tightening her hand around the edge of her shawl. “The thing wi’ the Triad is that ye cannae just leave, nae before yer contract is over. They spend plenty o’ time and resources on trainin’ ye.”
“So ye’re stuck?” He asked her, his face etched with concern.
“Nay,” Moira responded. “It’s nae like that. The Triad are me family, they have a system that works, and I understand why after everythin’ they dae fer people, it would be imperative tae stay. They usually start training when us when we’re around twelve years old—an’ then when we’re around sixteen, we may accompany other member’s missions as an apprentice.”
“Aye, that’s how I met ye, wasnae it, when ye were just an apprentice.”
“Yes, an’ what a fine apprentice I was,” Moira said cheerfully, tending once again to his cut.
“Nae from where I was standin’.”
“I told ye before, I could have made it out without ye,” Moira retorted rolling her eyes. “But good fer ye, ye saved me and managed tae get me here tae help ye.”
“I’m honored, Moira,” he joked.
After a few beats of silence, his face straightened, and he repositioned himself slightly, seemingly ready to ask her more questions.
“How hard are these missions that ye go on?”
“They’re as hard as they have to be,” she said stoically, but couldn’t control the darkness in her eyes. Moira saw that Roderick noticed it, and his expression practically begged her to explain more.
“Nae everyone survives the missions,” she added. “That is the cruel reality o’ our world. But the Triad has trained us well, an’ they rightly expect us to be in their service fer the same amount o’ years they have trained us fer. That is why I am still indebted tae them now.”
“And how dae ye feel about it?”
Roderick’s questions were becoming too many. She didn’t want to think about how working for the Triad made her feel, she just knew that whatever she was feeling, she was supposed to not feel it. She was supposed to suppress it somehow.
“Enough questions,” Moira said, feigning a smile. “How’s yer cut feelin’, better?”
“Aye, better” he nodded. “Thank ye.”
