Page 10 of Rescued By the Highland Warrior
Roderick had hoped to enjoy the evening, for it was one of the liveliest feasts the castle had hosted in a long time. Everyone he cherished was there, aside from his father, of course.
There were plenty of people that Roderick considered part of his extended family in attendance, and he was looking forward to introducing them to Moira, his councilmen in particular.
Roderick wanted Moira to feel comfortable and at home, and although their relationship may have been false, there was no reason for him to want his investigator to feel unsettled. He did not understand exactly how it worked but he wanted Moira to be at her best.
As he watched her that night, he sensed that Moira didn’t appear to be behaving entirely like herself, or that was his impression at least. Roderick, of course, didn’t know her enough to be able to fully assess her. It had been years since their one and only meeting, and although he’d spoken with her earlier, he did not have a strong grasp on who she was.
He could tell that she was extremely intelligent, albeit a bit cold, but she was also bold and to the point. If she wanted answers, she would get them–that’s what made him feel confident in her investigative abilities.
As he watched her walking around the room, he also noticed how she engaged with everyone. It seemed as though she was hanging on to the words of every person she spoke to. He assumed that this was a tactic. But as the night went on and he saw Moira settled in the corner laughing with Miss Barclay, a Councilman’s daughter, he started thinking she might not be taking the investigation seriously enough.
He decided to intervene.
Roderick led Moira to the heart of the grand hall, in the middle of the dance area. The air was alive with music, laughter and the sounds of the guests' boots stomping onto the stone floors. The musicians were playing a hearty tune, and while Roderick took in the mix of familiar faces, the noble women in their silk dresses and the councilmen moving to the fast beat, he was also acutely aware of Lady Wilson’s hand in his.
As she looked up at him, her face betraying the fact that all was not completely settled beneath her calm veneer, the music seemed to stop. Although the fiddler continued to play, his bow darting across the strings, and the harmonious drone of the bagpipes still echoed through the room, a quieter air settled between them. The music and the sounds from the guests faded into the background, all but a distant hum, and Moira’s expression shifted, her gaze sharpening as she abruptly removed her hand from his.
Roderick was amused by Moira’s perturbed air as he reached out for her hand once again. His fingers wrapped gentle but firm around hers, as he bought his other hand to settle at her waist.
“It is custom, Lady Wilson,” Roderick said calmly. “Tae dance with yer betrothed.”
Moira nodded and brought her free hand to rest lightly upon Roderick’s shoulder.
“I dinnae mean tae disturb ye,” Roderick said, leading Moira with deliberate steps as they were guided by the beat of the song.
“But?” Moira asked, as Roderick guided her an edge closer.
“But,” he said, his voice hushed, his face inches from hers as they turned in smooth unison, “ye seem rather distracted.”
Moira was about to frown, but as Roderick knew she had been trained to do, she schooled her features to remain impassive, cold as the grey stone of the walls and floors of the castle.
“Aye, an’ what does that mean exactly, Roderick? If ye’ve somethin’ tae say tae me, then ye may as well come out an’ say it.”
“I’ve nae problem bein’ upfront wi’ ye, as I hope ye are wi’ me. That’s why I wanted tae ask ye if ye are workin’ on findin’ out who killed me faither? Ye seemed very distracted.”
Both Moira and Roderick moved in unison, their bodies perfectly timed to the rhythm of the fiddle and drum. Outwardly they blended in perfectly with those dancing around them but inside Roderick felt the raging of his growing indignation. He wanted answers, he wanted vengeance, it he felt things were out of his control.
The faint wry smile that spread across Moira’s face added to that. She smirked, letting out a sharp breath that was almost a laugh.
“Roderick, how dae ye think this works? I need tae get tae ken everyone in this castle afore I can gather the right information. Given how many there are, it’ll tak’ some time, dinnae ye think? I have tae at least ken who is who.”
“I ken,” Roderick responded. “An’ I want ye tae feel comfortable, but I want tae see ye daein’ yer job as well.”
“Aye, ye’ve been watchin’, havenae ye, Roderick?”
“Aye,” Roderick nodded, holding Moira and staring at her intently before his gaze flickered briefly toward the edges of the room where councilmen and families lingered, whispering quietly among themselves. Talking with Moira always felt like exercising his mind, he could sense her cunningness and her efforts to diffuse and deflect. It was hard for him not to respect it, and he was surprised that he enjoyed it, despite his frustrations.
“I’ve hired ye tae dae a job,” Roderick said, “and all I expect is that ye handle it professionally as promised, and that ye dinnae waste yer and me time.”
“Roderick,” Moira said sharply. “It’s nae as though I expect ye tae understand or learn the ways of what I dae, but ye’re nae dim—I ken that much. Surely ye understand that tae extract information from people, ye must first earn their trust? Ye need tae slowly cultivate genuine relationships tae get what ye want.”
“And what is it that ye want?” Roderick asked, trying to bait her.
They moved in a quick circle, the lively strains of the fiddle weaving a melody that was both fast-paced and tense, mirroring the charged energy between them. Around them, the other dancers seemed to blur into the background, their chatter and laughter a distant hum mixed in with the music.
“What I want is fer ye tae stop telling me how tae dae me job. I want ye tae quit speaking on things ye dinnae understand, or ye’re going tae make this much more difficult fer the both of us, Roderick.”
Roderick tightened his jaw, for he knew he was being unreasonable with the lass, but he couldn’t control his irritation. “Difficult fer us, or difficult fer ye, Moira? Because I’m starting tae think ye enjoy making things complicated.”
