Page 6 of Highlander's Caged Rose
“Niall told me about the beast you are running away from.” His voice was a growl. “Such creatures cannot be called men.”
Moira nodded slowly in agreement. The subject of her “betrothed” was making her deeply uncomfortable. Why did everyone want to know about him?
“What is his name?” Gerald asked. “And what did he do to you? Perhaps Laird McPhee can help you to mete out some justice to him.”
Moira almost panicked as she looked into the old man’s grey eyes. He seemed to be furious on her behalf, but then she hardly knew him. How could she know how sincere he was?
She looked down at her hands, which she had been twisting nervously in her lap. She could not make up a name for a person who did not even exist! As well as that, if she told one lie, she would have to tell more to prop that lie up, and before long she would become lost in a wilderness of them. It was best not to start on that journey.
“I would rather not talk about him,” she replied, unaware of how bitter her voice sounded. “I want to forget him and his name. I want to wipe everything about him from my memory.”
McNicholl did not pressure her to tell him any more about her non-existent fiancé.
“I understand,” he said kindly. “And how are you, lass? You have been through a very upsetting experience.”
“The healer says my injury is mending well,” Moira replied with a slight smile. “It is certainly not as painful as it was when I first came here.”
However, that did not satisfy the old man. “I was a warrior once,” he told her. “I was also wounded many times, but the worst injuries were the memories and the nightmares. Are you suffering from those?”
“No, fortunately not,” Moira lied.
In fact, she had had a very bad nightmare just the previous night, imagining that both her evil husband and the bandits were chasing her through the darkness. However, on this nightthere had been no moon, and her horse had put her hoof into a hole in the ground and toppled over, throwing Moira into the path of McDonnell. She had woken up in a cold sweat, screaming, before Sandie came to her aid.
Now, Moira waited for a reaction from McNicholl.
“I am glad for you,” he said with a warm smile. “But now that you are here, you are quite safe. Laird McPhee is a very fine young man. He is very firm and takes no nonsense from anyone, but he is also very fair. He will never favour one person over another, and all his men respect him for that.”
“I am glad to hear it,” Moira answered. “Have you known him for a long time?”
“All his life,” Gerald answered, “which is why I am so confident about his character.”
“That is very reassuring,” Moira remarked. “When I first saw him, I was quite alarmed. He is a very big man, and he looked so angry.”
Gerald laughed softly. “You are right, Moira,” he agreed. “He may look very fearsome, and he certainly is. When he demands something, he always gets it. He is a hard man, fit for battle, but if you want my opinion, he needs a wife to show him some love and bring out his tender side. I know he has one, although he likes to keep it hidden. His parents are dead, and his sister, Glennie, is his only close relative. She lives here in the castle, and he is very protective of her. I am sure you will meet her before too long.”
She listened to Gerald’s words with keen attention. The word “protective” struck her forcefully. Her husband had used that word to rationalise his treatment of her, saying that he was keeping her safe from the outside world—in other words, she would be too scared to run away from him. As well as that, he wanted her to know that a wife should always obey her husband, and he would not tolerate any disobedience.
“I hope so,” Moira remarked. “Sandie told me about her, and she sounds as strong as her brother. Perhaps I could learn something from her.”
Moira had been treated like a commodity by her father—sold to pay for his gambling debts, verbally and physically abused by both him and her husband. How could she trust another man not to do exactly the same thing?
“Thank you for seeing me to my chamber.” Moira stood up in a polite gesture of dismissal.
“No doubt we will see each other again,” McNicholl said, then he bowed and left.
Moira sat down again and quickly examined her leg, sighing. She was still in an extremely vulnerable position, since her dead husband’s brother was still on her trail. In this present situation, the only person she could trust was herself. McPhee might be a good man, but could she take the risk? She thought she could ride, since Sandie had done her work well and the wound was well padded. It was time to make her escape.
Sandie had given Moira a well-worn leather bag to replace the old one, which had been torn to shreds in the battle with the bandits. Now Moira stuffed her few belongings into it, being careful to fold her coin pouch and jewellery inside the dress that she had rolled up and placed right at the bottom. She looked regretfully around her comfortable new room before leaving.
The stables were on the outside of the castle, just behind the curtain wall, but it took Moira a long time to find them, particularly since she was trying to remain inconspicuous.
She reached them eventually. She looked around a little, and was surprised to see the horse she had grabbed the fateful night she fled standing in a stall, munching hay from a net on the wall.
Moira approached the horse, and the mare turned and greeted her with a whicker. “How are you, my girl?” Moira asked as she put her arms around the horse’s dappled grey neck, then stroked her velvet nose. “Thank you for helping me. I am so glad you’re safe. I wish I had brought an apple for you.”
Just then, a young man came up behind them. He was handsome in his own craggy way, tall, with a wiry build and a head of fiery red hair. As soon as he saw Moira, his deep brown eyes widened in an expression of surprise.
“Who are ye?” he asked at once, walking forward to meet her. Evidently, he thought she was about to steal the horse, which was what she was about to do, although, of course, she was not going to tell him that.
