Banished & Welcomed: The Laird's Reckless Wife (Love's Second Chance Book 14)

by Bree Wolf

  Deidre’s eyes alternately glowed with joy and widened in shock, particularly when Moira confided in her about the night Cormag had come upon her on top of the eastern tower. Tears filled her friend’s eyes then, and yet, not a word of reproach left her lips. “I canna understand why ye believe that he doesna care for ye?” Deidre finally said, slipping her arm through the crook of Moira’s as they headed back to the village.

  Moira sighed, “Can we not speak about this? Believe me, ‘twould not be wise to have hope.”

  “’Tis never wrong to have hope,” Deidre whispered, gently squeezing Moira’s arm with her own. “’Tis never wise to give up on it.”

  Deep down, Moira could not help but wonder how Deidre had reached that conviction after everything that had happened to her, after everything she had lost and might lose again. Oh, how Moira wished she could see what would become of Deidre’s pregnancy!

  However, her dreams always came when they chose…and stayed away when they chose as well.

  18

  A Giant of a Man

  From the way the two women clung to one another, Cormag could tell that they were close, probably had been since childhood. A deep bond seemed to connect them that went beyond words, and he rejoiced at the thought that someone from Moira’s past had reached out to her, for the joy it brought Moira was clearly written on her face.

  Together, they spent their days strolling the meadow near the stream, even venturing into the neighbouring woods, their heads always bent close in confidence, their arms always linked in comfort.

  From Fiona, Cormag learnt that the young woman was Deidre Brunwood, her nephew’s wife and Moira’s sister-in-law. She spoke warmly of the slender young woman with the bright, warm eyes before whispering with sadness of the misfortunes she had had to endure.

  Cormag wondered why Deidre had come and why her husband had not accompanied her.

  Four days after the young woman’s arrival, he received his answer.

  The sun had long since passed its zenith when a rider appeared on the horizon.

  Cormag was up on the wall-walk, urging himself to leave but unable to do so, his gaze lingering on the nearby woods into which the two women had disappeared.

  The rider approached fast, and as he drew closer to the main gate, Cormag frowned at the way he sat in the saddle. This was a man driven by anger, but also by fear, and he hurried down the stairs and into the courtyard, approaching the man when he pulled his mount to a halt. “Greetings,” he said, his voice tinged with warning. “What brings ye here?”

  The man jumped off his snorting horse, his tall stature not in the least dwarfed by that of his mount. He moved with purpose, a strain in the way he pulled back his broad shoulders and lifted his chin. The moment their eyes met, Cormag suddenly understood the odd familiarity he had felt upon seeing the man’s flaxen hair.

  His eyes were the same deep blue as Moira’s.

  “I’m Alastair Brunwood.” He stepped closer, before he nodded his head in greeting. “Ye’re the MacDrummond laird.”

  “Aye, Cormag MacDrummond. Are ye here to see yer sister?”

  The man tensed, displeasure contorting his features, but Cormag saw a hint of longing come to those deep blue eyes before the feel of it crossed over and settled in his heart. “I’m here to fetch my wife,” he replied, his tone gruff. “D’ye know where she is?”

  Cormag wondered about the unlikely couple: Alastair, a giant full of strength and hard edges, and Deidre, so delicate and fragile that the wind might carry her away. “Aye,” Cormag replied, curious to see the dynamic amongst the three who were family. “Follow me.”

  Nodding his head, Alastair fell into step beside him as they walked out of the courtyard and headed down the slope to the small path leading through the village, past Moira’s little cottage and down to the stream.

  Alastair paused momentarily, a deep frown coming to his face when Cormag made to cross the stream in a narrow spot. “She went this far?” he demanded, doubt ringing in his voice. “By herself?” Suspicion gave his tone an edge.

  Cormag stopped and turned to face him. “She came with Moira.”

  The man’s jaw tensed, and a muscle in his temple twitched while he held himself immobile, refusing to react beyond that which he could not control. Cormag felt the tension that held him, tension that masked fear and insecurity, and he knew that at some point in his life, Alastair Brunwood had felt completely and utterly helpless, powerless, forced to watch as someone he loved endured unspeakable pain.

  As they proceeded farther into the woods, the echo of soft voices soon reached their ears and they turned toward it. Alastair’s head snapped up and his eyes narrowed as he pressed onward, striding past Cormag, his ears attuned to his wife’s soft lilt. They came to a small clearing where the women stood arm in arm, their gaze directed upward at the shifting clouds.

  “Deidre!” Alastair bellowed, and while Moira flinched, Deidre merely turned her head to look at her husband as though she had known he was there. A deep smile came to her face, and even from a distance, Cormag could sense the overwhelming joy that surged through her being at the sight of the man she loved so fiercely.

  Staying back, Cormag watched as Alastair’s long strides carried him to his wife and sister. Moira stood stock-still, her eyes fixed on her brother as he approached, her chest rising and falling with each rapid breath. Longing rested in her deep blue eyes, and Cormag saw the way the muscles in her arms twitched, wishing to reach out and embrace the brother she had not seen in too long.

  Still, the dark looks on his face kept her where she was, watching as Alastair reached for his wife, pulling her away from the sister who had betrayed him. “I canna believe ye left without a word,” he snarled down into Deidre’s face, the muscle in his jaw tensing as he ground his teeth. “I canna believe ye−”

  Reaching out, dainty Deidre pulled her giant of a husband into a deep kiss, her hands brushing gently over his cheeks and further down his neck. In an instant, he responded, crushing her into his arms, giving voice to the fear and longing that had driven him to follow her the moment he had learnt of her departure.

  Quietly, Cormag moved closer to Moira, who was still frozen to the spot, tears pooling in her eyes as she watched the reunion of Deidre and her husband, no doubt wishing her brother would embrace her as well or at the very least acknowledge her existence.

  “He loves ye,” Cormag whispered, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.

  A shiver went through her, and the tears brimming in her eyes finally spilled over.

  “But that was never the question, was it?” Moving closer, Cormag tried to look into her eyes. “’Tis whether or not he can forgive ye?”

  Moira nodded, and then turned away from the scene that had cut deep into her heart. “He’s a proud man,” she murmured, wiping at her cheeks. “He’s always been, and he follows his code of honour to the letter.” Sniffling, she smiled through the tears streaking her face. “To him, the world has always been black and white. Simple. Straightforward. I’ve often wondered if he’s ever felt doubt over what to do.”

  Cormag tensed as a low growl rose from Alastair’s throat and his hands tightened on his wife’s arms. Looking around Moira, he tried to determine if her brother might be losing control of his anger.

  “He willna harm her,” Moira whispered without looking. “She’s…She’s his weakness. He loves her beyond hope. He always has.” Fresh tears shot to her eyes, and she turned to look at them.

  Standing beside her, Cormag watched the way Deidre met her husband’s angry gaze, her deep brown eyes unflinching. There was no fear or concern in them, no submission or distress. She stood tall, and Cormag realised that despite their differences, theirs was a relationship of equals. On the surface, Alastair might appear strong and domineering while Deidre seemed weak and submissive. However, deep down, they were both strong and weak at the same time for they were dependent on one another, each one half of a whole.

  Smiling gently, De
idre reached out and cupped her hand to Alastair’s cheek, whispered words leaving her lips. At his wife’s touch, the tall man closed his eyes in surrender and tenderly rested his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling into one.

  “They’re an unlikely couple,” Cormag whispered into the stillness of the late afternoon.

  Moira nodded. “But they were meant to be.”

  “So, it would seem.”

  With her arm slung around her husband’s, Deidre dragged the log of a man over to where Cormag waited beside Moira. Alastair’s face held displeasure, and yet, he followed Deidre, his eyes rising and then reluctantly meeting his sister’s.

  In that moment, Cormag realised why Deidre had come, why she had left without speaking to her husband, why she had dared to frighten him with her departure.

  As Moira had said, Alastair was a proud man who would never have agreed to visit his sister. Cormag did not doubt that Deidre had done her utmost these past three years to persuade him to open his heart to Moira once more.

  Tried and failed.

  And so, the delicate, little woman had chosen a different path, knowing that her husband would follow her, even if it forced him into enemy territory, even if it meant facing his demons, even if it would bring him face to face with his sister.

  And she had been right.

  “I’m sad to say goodbye,” Deidre said to Moira, her warm eyes dark with sorrow. “I’ve missed ye terribly, and I shall again.”

  Moira nodded as her gaze carefully darted back to her brother. “I’ve missed ye as well.” Her jaw began to quiver, and Cormag could see that she desperately wanted to reach out to him.

  Alastair’s posture remained tense. Still, the blue of his eyes seemed to soften as he looked at his little sister. Then he inhaled a deep, shuddering breath that said more than a thousand words before he finally turned away, pulling his wife along.

  “Goodbye,” Deidre whispered over her shoulder as they walked away, a look of encouragement in her dark eyes, before she glanced at Cormag. “Take good care of her.”

  Cormag nodded, aware of the magnitude of that promise.

  Beside him, Moira stood frozen to the spot, her blue eyes watching as two people she had loved all her life walked away, perhaps never to return.

  The moment they disappeared from sight, she broke down. However, she did not sink to the ground into a heap of misery. Instead, to his great surprise, she spun around and threw her arms around him, burying her face in the crook of his neck.

  Feeling her warm body clinging to his own, Cormag could not ignore the desire to comfort her. He knew it was foolish to allow her so close, but he knew that there was no force on this earth that could bring him to abandon her now. Not when she needed him, not when she clung to him as though for dear life, her tears soaking his shirt.

  Gently, he enclosed her in his arms, his hands gently rubbing over her back, brushing damp hair from her face as she wept for a loss he wished he could have spared her.

  How had this happened? That her pain hurt him more than his own? And what did it mean?

  19

  Return to Seann Dachaigh Tower

  The leaves were beginning to change from different shades of green to warmer colours of red and brown and gold, giving Scotland’s rolling hills and dense woods a new face. The days started to grow shorter, and the heat of summer slowly retreated as colder winds began to sweep across the country.

  Standing up on the wall-walk, Moira looked out at the vastness before her, remembering the day she had stood up here, watching her brother and his wife ride away, their eyes turned homeward.

  “Home,” she whispered to the wind as it tugged on her golden tresses and swept up the fabric of her cloak. Would she ever feel at home again?

  Her hand rested on the rough stone of the parapet in front of her, and she remembered the many times she had seen Cormag stand up here. She could see the spot by the small grove of trees where she often sat, watching the children splash in the stream, and a deep smile came to her face.

  “I care for him,” she whispered softly to the wind, feeling a new warmth spread through her heart at the simple admission. She knew she did, and she had for a while. Still, it would forever only remain a dream, and she would have to learn to live with wanting something she could not have.

  A movement on the horizon caught her eye, and Moira turned her head, squinting against the bright autumn light. Riders seemed to be approaching as well as a carriage.

  Moira’s heart banged against her ribcage as hope surged skyward. Still, she knew it could not be. Knew that Deidre’s visit had been a rare gift and she could not expect more. Whoever was coming had not come from her old home, had not come to see her.

  Waiting for her heart to calm, to accept the disappointment that always followed a moment of unrestrained hope, Moira watched as the small group drew closer.

  And then she could make out their faces, and again, joy found its way into her heart, joy and relief.

  Garrett had returned, riding at the head of the small procession, with the carriage following behind, flanked by Finn and Ian; although Ian had fallen a little behind, his face grim, while Finn chatted cheerfully with a dark-haired woman inside the carriage.

  Squinting her eyes, Moira looked closer, her eyes gliding over the woman’s smiling face, taking in the vibrant blue of her eyes and the undisguised love that shone on her face whenever she looked at Garrett.

  Moira sighed in relief. She had seen this woman before; in her dreams, her smiling face turned toward Garrett, his own a reflection of hers.

  For once, her dreams had not led her astray. For once, they guided her down the right path, allowing her to help, to assist, to lead two people who belonged together to find one another before Fate could rip them apart.

  Garrett’s smile spoke volumes, and Moira knew that all she had done had been worth it. He looked happy, in love, and the moment, his gaze rose to meet hers, Moira knew it to be true.

  For a long while, they looked at one another, and his green eyes shone with gratitude as he inclined his head to her in deference.

  A smile tugged on Moira’s lips, and she remembered the way Finn had looked at her before he had left to call upon Clan McKinnear for help. A teasing grin had rested on his lips, and he had referred to her as a witch, but not an evil one. Moira had seen kindness in him that day, kindness and respect, the willingness to open his mind and accept that she was not so different from him.

  Now, she saw the same glow in Garrett’s eyes, and it gave her hope that she would not have to be an outsider for the rest of her days. Maggie and Emma had already welcomed her into their midst, and every day, Moira reminded herself that while false hope was devastating, the absence of hope was hell.

  So, she dared to hope.

  A little.

  As the small group pulled into the courtyard, Moira stepped away from the wall-walk, not wishing to disturb the reunion as family and friends rushed forward to welcome them back home. She made to turn around, determined to head down the back staircase, when a large chest suddenly obstructed her view.

  Taken aback, she stumbled backwards, her back colliding painfully with the hard edge of the parapet before her gaze snapped up to look into dark grey eyes.

  “I’m sorry I startled ye,” Cormag said, regret marking his features as he reached out to steady her. His hand was warm on her arm, and Moira felt that familiar flutter return to her belly.

  “’Tis all right,” she mumbled, watching him as he stood before her, a hint of indecision in his eyes. “Is something wrong?”

  He shook his head. “I wish to speak with ye,” he finally said before glancing around, taking note of those lingering nearby. “Alone.” Then he offered her his arm, his gaze lingering on hers. “Will ye accompany me to my study?”

  Determined to enjoy the moments she could spend in his presence−short-lived as they were−Moira smiled up at him, accepting his offer. “What do ye wish to speak about?”

  His
arm tensed as he guided her down the back staircase. “Ian.”

  Moira drew in a shuddering breath, remembering the dark look on the man’s face upon his return home only a few minutes prior. Even though he now knew that she had not led them astray, he did not seem willing to grant her the benefit of the doubt. Distrust and suspicion still clung to him. Nothing had changed. What did that mean for the future?

  Her future?

  Closing the door behind them, Cormag released her arm, then took a step back, his dark eyes searching hers. “He’s still angry,” he began without preamble, “and I admit I’m concerned about what will come of it.”

  Moira nodded. “I know.” She inhaled a slow breath. “Are ye saying ye changed yer mind?”

  For a second, Cormag’s brows crinkled in confusion before his lips grew tight. “I havena,” he replied with determination. “Ye willna leave, d’ye hear? I will speak to Ian.” He sighed. “I only mean to ask ye to…be careful.”

  Moira scoffed, “How? Do ye want me to lock myself in my home?” She shook her head. “He’s found me there before as ye well know.”

  The memory of that day passed over Cormag’s face, and once more, Moira saw his eyes darken with outrage. “Nay, I simply…”

  Shaking her head, Moira stepped toward him. “There’s nothing I can do to protect myself. If he loses his temper…”

  The muscles in Cormag’s jaw clenched. “I will speak to him,” he growled out, frustration rasping in his voice.

  “About what?”

  “Maggie.”

  Moira frowned, noting the understanding in Cormag’s eyes. “Did he tell ye that?” Never would she have thought Ian would confide in anyone, even a friend. She had thought him a man who would never dare reveal a weakness. A man who always believed he needed to be strong .

  Cormag shook his head.

  “Then how do ye know?” Moira whispered, noting the way Cormag’s eyes did not quite meet hers as though he was trying to hide something from her, praying she would not notice.