Page 49 of Rescued By the Highland Warrior
Moira laughed, a full smile spread across her lips, and Roderick’s whole body warmed at the sight.
“Ye have a way wi’ words ye dae, when ye want tae that is.”
Roderick smirked, his fingers trailing lazily down her arm. “Only when the occasion calls fer it. An’ when the right lass is listenin’.”
Moira tilted her head, her smile lingering as she studied him. “Ah, so ye reserve yer silver tongue fer moments like this, then? When a lass is tangled in yer sheets, wi’ nowhere tae run?”
He chuckled, the deep rumble vibrating through his chest. “When a lass is tangled in me sheets, she’s usually nae wantin’ tae run.” His fingers slid lower, grazing the dip of her waist, and he watched with satisfaction as a shiver ran through her.
She huffed, though the soft flush on her cheeks gave her away. “Ye’ve an answer fer everythin’, havenae ye?”
“I try,” he murmured, his lips brushing her temple before he pulled her closer, their bodies fitting together with ease.
For a moment, they stayed there, intertwined, the only sounds those coming from the outside world.
“It’d be nice tae stay here fer a while,” Moira said. “An’ I’ve grown so tired, but I dinnae want to sleep.”
Roderick knew exactly what she meant. He was also exhausted from both physical excursion and all the stress that had come with the past few days. He’d never slept so little in his life, and although his eyelids were starting to close—he wished to be awake too—to stay with Moira like that for as long as they could.
“Aye,” Roderick said, pulling at the sheets and wrapping them over them with his free hand. “Ye should rest, and I’ll be right here keepin’ ye safe although ye’ve proven well that ye dinnae need it.”
“I dinnae,” Moira agreed, resting her head on Roderick, and closing her eyes. “But still, it is nice to hear– although if ye quote me on that I’ll deny it.”
“Of course, ye will,” Roderick murmured, the steady rhythm of the rain lulling his own eyes shut.
“Roderick,” she whispered.
“Aye?”
“Promise me ye willnae forget this moment.”
“I promise,” he said, his breathing turning heavy before both he and Moira fell into a long deep sleep.
Roderick awoke before Moira and after a while of staring at her resting peacefully in his arms, he slipped away, climbing carefully across the bed.
He only intended to relieve himself, but out of the corner of his eye, he spied the letters forgotten to more interesting distractions the night before. They were still where he had left them, staring up at him on the nightstand by the bed.
Although he didn’t feel quite ready, the night he had spent with Moira had soothed him. He felt a glimpse of joy, and that made him feel stronger, as though he could take on whatever the letters said.
Carefully he took them in his hands, peeling them one by one, handling each one delicately, like the petals of a cherished flower.
He welcomed his father’s voice that rang through his ears as he digested each word.
The contents of the letters could not have been clearer. They also could not have been worse.
Roderick felt a deep wave of nausea as dread rushed through his stomach.
He had failed his father.
His attraction toward Moira was wrong. Everything they just did in his father’s cabin had been a mistake—and although it pained him, he’d need to stay as far away from her as possible.
Roderick’s face hardened with the realization, and he took a steadying step forward, unable to look back. Despite everything in him drawing him toward Moira he would have to be strong—he would have to resist.
Roderick clenched his jaw, his fingers tightening around the parchment until his knuckles whitened.
The scent of Moira still lingered on his skin, a ghost of warmth and softness that mocked his resolve.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
