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

by Bree Wolf

  A dark chuckle left his lips, and she saw his resistance slip further through his fingers. Never had she seen him thus. Although she had glimpsed deeper emotions lurk beneath the surface of his controlled exterior every now and then, Moira had never felt certain that what she had seen had truly been there. For deep down, she knew what she wanted, what she wanted to see, and she feared that her eyes were fooling her, had been fooling her.

  But perhaps not.

  Perhaps there was something she could do to tip the scales, to win the battle, if not the war. Perhaps if she broke through his defences, she would receive her answer.

  Moving closer until her body touched his, she watched as awareness came to his eyes and smiled as his breath momentarily lodged in his throat. “What are ye afraid ye’ll say or do if ye allow control to slip from yer fingers?” she whispered, lifting her head to his.

  His breath quickened as his gaze dropped to her lips, reminding her of the night he had found her on top of the eastern tower. “Ye dunna want to know,” he rasped before he set his jaw in determination, and she saw his struggle to fight against the temptation she presented.

  Joy and desire filled Moira’s heart as it longed to relive the moment they had shared the night of her aunt’s wedding. She recalled the warmth and comfort she had found in his arms. She remembered how the loneliness, her constant companion, had bowed its head in defeat. She knew that it had been a moment of peace and happiness.

  A precious moment.

  A moment that had stood against the darkness…and won.

  “Ye’re wrong,” Moira whispered, and she pushed herself up onto her toes, bringing her mouth closer to his. “I do want to know.” A smile curled up her lips as his warm breath teased her skin. “As do ye.”

  At what point the dam broke, Moira could not say. She did not even see a flicker in his eyes or a twitch in his jaw that told her he would answer her challenge.

  From one second to the next, she found herself in his arms, his heart beating fast against her own, and his mouth claimed hers with a swiftness that stole her breath, demanding more than she had offered.

  That night up on the eastern tower, Cormag had kissed her with such tenderness, his knuckles brushing softly along her jaw before his fingers had settled in her hair. She had been touched by his consideration, assessing at every turn whether she would grant him permission. He had been almost hesitant, careful as though she were made of glass.

  Tonight, there was nothing hesitant about him. Nothing gentle.

  His arms crushed her to him mercilessly as his mouth devoured hers. She felt his hands cup her cheeks, then roam lower, their pressure against her skin betraying his loss of control, his desire to feel her. Her feet barely touched the ground as he held her against him, his hands gripping her hips as his tongue invaded her mouth.

  Moira gasped at the sudden sensations, unexpected and overwhelming, as she clung to him, swept away like a piece of driftwood and then brought back ashore by the power of waves crashing over her, threatening to pull her under. She had no control, and for a moment, a spark of fear lit in her heart at the familiar feeling of helplessness. She had felt powerless too many times in the past few years, and she could not bear it.

  Her body tensed, but the fire in her belly burnt as strongly as before. She revelled in the feel of him, in the knowledge that at least a part of him longed for her as much as she longed for him. Her hands gripped his shoulders, needing something to hold onto, as she reminded herself that the waves throwing her about would never harm her. Would never take advantage.

  Never.

  Always had Cormag been there when she had needed him. Always had he listened even when he had not liked what she had to say. Always had she felt safe with him…because he cared, did he not?

  He cared about her, could he deny that now?

  As quickly as he had seized her, Cormag now almost pushed her from him, panting hard, his gaze wide as he stared into her eyes.

  Moira felt weak, her legs threatening to drop her onto the ground, and yet, her heart raced with a strength she had not felt in years.

  And then his gaze ventured lower, and she saw his jaw clench as his eyes travelled over her swollen lips to her bare shoulder, the fabric ripped and hanging down her arm, and farther over her crumpled dress.

  He swallowed then, and his eyes closed for a long moment as he fought to regain control, guilt and remorse bringing a scowl to his face. “I’m sorry,” he croaked, clearly shaken. “I’m sorry.”

  Moira shook her head, and her mouth opened to assure him that though a little unsteady on her feet, she was fine for the look of regret in his eyes sent a chill down her back. He was retreating once more.

  “I’ll take ye back,” he stated gruffly as her mind was still contemplating how to reply. “Come.” He turned to reach for her mare’s reins and brought her over, careful not to step too close, not to touch her.

  And then Cormag was gone, her view at him blocked by her mare, and she heard him trudge through the grass, soft murmurs leaving his lips as he approached his gelding. The animal snorted in greeting, and then silence lingered. For a long moment, Moira heard nothing but the soft chirping of crickets and the distant hooting of an owl. The breeze had grown colder in the absence of the sun, and Moira felt a chill raise goose bumps on her skin. Sighing, she rested her forehead against her mare’s soft neck. “What should I do?” she whispered, still breathless from the depth of emotions she had experienced.

  “Are ye ready?”

  At the sound of his voice, Moira looked up and found him astride his gelding, waiting for her by the narrow spot where she had crossed the stream. Had that only been moments ago? For it seemed like a small eternity had passed since then.

  Pulling herself into the saddle, Moira followed him back toward Seann Dachaigh Tower, wondering at what point she had abandoned the thought of leaving her life with Clan MacDrummond behind. Still, a lot had changed in the past few moments, and Moira could not bring herself to give up on the small hope he had granted her that night. For whether he liked to admit it or not, there was something between them. Something that Moira needed in order to step back from the abyss that threatened to topple her into its void.

  It might be selfish of her to reach for him merely because she needed him. Perhaps he was right to fight for control, to not allow his emotions to overtake him. Was that not what had led Moira down a path of betrayal? Still, a life without…feeling something, anything that stirred her blood, was not a life she wanted.

  A life she ever truly could live.

  Had that not been the realisation she had faced up on the parapet wall? The realisation that not every life was worth living.

  As they drew closer to Seann Dachaigh Tower and the threat that lived within, Moira glanced at the man riding a head of her and wondered what was on his mind. She had seen regret in his dark eyes, but had that been brought on by his loss of control or the thought that he might have acted against her wishes?

  Indeed, she had been overwhelmed by the fierceness of his desire, and perhaps he had interpreted her shock differently. Perhaps she ought to speak to him, to clear up misunderstandings. First, though, she needed to find out how she truly felt and what she wanted, how far she was willing to go and what she was willing to give up.

  As they rode through the front gate, the dark stone walls looming like giants around her, Moira felt a familiar cold grip her and settle in her bones. No, she could not return to the life she had lived before. She could not bear it. Something needed to change.

  Either she would leave or…

  25

  Intruder

  After returning the horses to the stable, Cormag stalked toward the side entrance. The festivities were still ongoing as laughter and music echoed into the darkened sky, and he could not bear laying eyes on another soul now. He could barely look at Moira as she trudged after him, her head bowed, and her arms wrapped around her against the shiver that shook her body.

  Cormag cursed
under his breath, cursed himself for allowing her to break through his defences. She surely regretted her bravado now for the look on her face spoke of pain and fear. Cormag ran a hand over his face, unable to believe what he had done.

  He had truly lost control and hurt the one person he cared about the most.

  “Good night.”

  At the soft whisper of those words, Cormag turned to look at her.

  Moira stood a few paces away from him, her face pale in the soft silver glow from the moon overhead, and he tensed at the hint of panic in her eyes. Did she fear him? He had to admit she had reason to.

  At least now, she did.

  Deep down, Cormag knew he ought to let her go, to grant her distance from him; however, the thought that she might try to sneak away again as soon as she was alone would not let him. “Ye canna return to yer home,” he spoke into the dark as she made to turn back toward the village. “Not after the way ye ran off tonight.” Afraid she might bolt, Cormag approached her slowly, his hands slightly raised as a promise that he would not get too close. Not again. “Ye’ll sleep in the castle, and we’ll sort out the rest tomorrow.”

  Her wide eyes remained on him, watching as he moved closer. “Where will I sleep?” she whispered as her gaze roamed his face, something lingering in their blue depths that Cormag could not grasp.

  “There’re unoccupied chambers reserved for visitors. I’m certain one of them will do.”

  Cormag thought to see a hint of displeasure in the way her lips thinned as though she disliked what he had said.

  He swallowed. “I willna touch ye,” he promised, and for a second, he thought she would cringe away. “But if ye give me no choice, I will throw ye over my shoulder and carry ye inside.” His gaze held hers for he needed her to understand that he meant every word. “The decision is yers.”

  For a long while, they stood under a canvas of faintly glowing stars, the muted sound of music and laughter a barrier between them and the rest of the world. And then she suddenly nodded. “Verra well.”

  Not daring to question her sudden acceptance of his command, Cormag turned toward the side entrance that would allow them into the castle unseen by the celebrating crowd. Every few steps, he glanced over his shoulder to ensure that she was following him through the door to the back staircase and then upward. Neither one of them spoke a word, and to Cormag, the silence that lingered between them felt oddly oppressing.

  Something had changed between them, and Cormag knew not how to get it back or if that was even possible. All he knew was that he had lost something that night, and his heart mourned.

  Stopping outside a heavy door, Cormag glanced back at her, her head slightly bowed and her eyes distant as though she was lost in thought. Then he pushed open the door and invited her inside. “There are additional blankets in the cupboard,” he told her, reaching for the key hanging on a little hook on the wall. He looked down at the small metal object in his hands before rising to meet hers. “I’m sorry, but I’ll need to lock the door.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Ye dunna trust me.” Her words felt like a slap in the face, especially after the way he had betrayed her trust.

  “Nay,” Cormag said nonetheless, and then quickly stepped toward the door.

  “Wait.”

  Looking back at her, Cormag followed her gaze as it shifted sideways and then touched upon her bare shoulder, the fabric hanging down in rags. “I’ll need something to wear.”

  Cormag’s lips thinned at the thought of how her dress had ended up in this condition. “I’ll fetch something for ye,” he said and then all but fled the room. Why was it that she made him feel so flawed?

  Not wishing to leave her alone too long, Cormag hastened down the corridor to his own chamber and retrieved one of his shirts. Although she was a tall woman, it would still reach well past her knees. “Here, this should do for tonight,” he mumbled, barely meeting her eyes before he once more made to leave.

  “’Tis yers.” Her voice was soft and did not rise in the way it would if she had asked a question. Her blue eyes looked down at the simple piece of clothing as her hands felt the fabric, her thumbs gently brushing over the material.

  Cormag swallowed, remembering how those hands had touched him earlier that night, cupping the sides of his face and then skimming down along his neck. His skin began to tingle at the memory, and it took all his willpower not to reach for her. “I bid ye a good night,” he croaked and then hurriedly stalked from the room, almost running as he retreated to his own chamber.

  Once inside, he closed the door, leaning against it as he drew in a slow breath, seeking to calm his racing heart. Still, he spent the next hour pacing the length of his room, alternately raking his hands through his hair in frustration and cursing himself in anger. His mind kept replaying the moments by the stream, and he tried to understand how he had lost control, what it was about Moira that made him want to…feel, for lack of a better word.

  What had she said? If ye dunna feel how do ye even know ye’re alive?

  As odd as it sounded whenever she drew near, Cormag did feel. He felt…more, more deeply, unable to maintain the distance he had always prided himself on. Her blue eyes had a way of looking inside of him, and as much as Cormag feared to have his innermost thoughts and desires revealed, he could not deny that he longed for her to know. For her to see him for who he was, and every now and then, when she had looked at him, her head slightly cocked to the side and her eyes narrowed in contemplation, he had felt weakened for he had known that in that moment she had seen him.

  And now, he had ruined all that perhaps could have been.

  All that he had hoped for without even knowing that he had.

  Tossing his vest at the wall, Cormag sat down on the edge of his bed and yanked off his boots, then proceeded to hurl them across the room as well. He jerked on his collar, unable to bear the tightness around his throat a moment longer, and then heard the soft sounds of thread snapping and buttons tumbling to the floor.

  A groan rose from his throat before he threw himself onto the bed, burying his face in the pillow to muffle the sounds that surged past his lips. He pulled the blanket over his head, not bothering to undress further, and forced his eyes closed, longing for the sweet oblivion of sleep.

  It had been a truly agonising day, and he could only hope that tomorrow would be better. How that might be possible, he did not know, but a man could hope, could he not?

  When sleep finally claimed him, Cormag did not know; however, it was still dark when he felt himself begin to stir once more, his consciousness slowly drifting back from the depth of slumber. The sound of faint breathing and the soft rustling of fabric nearby reached his ears, and his senses reared into alertness. His eyes flew open the moment he felt a small dip in the mattress as though someone had sat down on its edge.

  Instantly, Cormag jerked upward, his hands reaching for the shadowy figure. He did not see the gleam of a blade in the dim light of his chamber; however, he did not hesitate.

  Grabbing the intruder, he flung him around, and a startled cry escaped his…or rather her throat.

  Cormag blinked, his eyes trying to focus in the dim light of his chamber as he stared down at the intruder and found himself looking into Moira’s face. Her golden hair lay scattered about his pillow, and her eyes were wide as she stared up at him, her chest rising and falling with each rapid breath as he held her pinned down, his hands pressing her arms into the mattress.

  For a moment, he remained still, unable to move as though still trapped in a dream. Then he felt her heartbeat against his own, felt the softness of her body beneath his and felt his own lips begin to tingle when he realised how close they were to hers.

  As though burnt, Cormag rolled off her with lightning speed, his gaze jerking toward the windows, afraid to see fear returned to her eyes. “I’m sorry. I didna mean…I thought ye were−”

  Her hand settled on his shoulder, warm and soft, urging him to turn back to her.

  When he
did, his head began to spin for he found her face only a breath away from his own. Her arms snaked around his neck as she pulled herself onto his lap.

  “Moira? What…?” His breath quickened as he stared at her, felt her body move closer, covered in nothing but the thin fabric of the shirt he had given her. “How did ye get out of yer chamber?” Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered about the relevance of that question.

  A small smile teased her lips. “Ye forgot to lock the door,” she whispered as she inched closer still, her dark gaze locked on his.

  Cormag felt his jaw clench. “Moira, ye shouldna−”

  Before he could finish whatever it was he had meant to say, her head dipped lower and her lips captured his in a daring but heart-breaking, innocent kiss. Her fingers curled into his hair, and he felt her nails scrape against his skin, sending shivers down his spine.

  Without thought, Cormag responded to her touch and pulled her into his arms, revelling in the gentle softness of her hands on him. Her caresses were soothing, chasing away the tension that had held him in its grip all night; they also made him yearn for more.

  Tentatively, she deepened their kiss, testing, teasing, her hands moving down the side of his neck and below his collar. Then she suddenly shifted her weight, her hands locked around his neck, and rolled them back down onto the mattress.

  When his weight landed on her, Moira gasped, but a moment later, her lips were back on his, her hands still locked behind his neck holding him to her as though she feared he might slip away otherwise.

  Answering her demand, Cormag kissed her deeply, feeling the softness of her body through the thin barrier of his shirt. He felt her hands relinquish their hold on him and move down his neck once more, then grasp the back of his collar. With a swift movement, she tugged his shirt upward, and he moved so she could pull it over his head. Then he tossed it aside, his mouth once more finding hers.

  Her hands began to explore his shoulders, drifting lower down his back and then up and over the planes of his chest. When his hand moved to cup her breast, she gasped and his mouth slid from hers, trailing kisses down her throat and onto her shoulder.