by Bree Wolf
And then he heard it.
A faint sob that chilled him to his bones.
Lifting his head, Cormag tried to look down into her face, but she turned her head away, her hands once more reaching for him, urging him back into her embrace.
As much as he wanted to yield, Cormag resisted. “Look at me,” he whispered, and his fingers gently grasped her chin when she did not. “Look at me.”
After a long moment, Moira finally turned her head back to him, and he found that her eyes were brimming with tears. He saw her bottom lip quiver before she dug her teeth into it to keep the sobs at bay.
Cormag’s heart broke seeing her thus, and he made to rise immediately, ashamed to have not noticed her emotional turmoil before. After everything that had happened, how could he have not seen this? How could he have thought−?
“Don’t!” It was no more than a desperate plea, all her earlier bravado lost, as her hands settled on his shoulders, urging him to stay. “Dunna send me away. Please! I know…I know ye want me. Ye canna deny that. Please help me forget. Please!”
Shocked at her words and the despair that rang in them, Cormag looked down at her, his eyes searching her face, trying to understand. “Help ye forget what?” he asked, brushing his fingertips down her temple and tucking a golden curl behind her ear. “What do ye wish to forget?”
Tears ran out the corners of her eyes and vanished in her golden tresses. Her teeth dug deeper into her lower lip as she drew in a shuddering breath.
“Lass,” Cormag whispered, gently skimming the pad of his thumb across her brow, then down over the bridge of her nose and along her cheek bone. “What do ye wish to forget?”
Slowly, her breathing calmed. She swallowed then, her lips straining into a brave little smile. “That I’m alone. That I dunna belong. That it’ll always be thus.” Her hand rose to cup his cheek. “I too want to feel…if only tonight.” And with that, her head lifted off the pillow, her mouth reclaiming his.
Cormag groaned at the sensation, and his lips responded before he had even formed a clear thought. But then he felt the wetness on her cheek, and his heart clenched painfully at the thought of what he was doing. For the truth was that she did not want him. At least not in that moment. She was vulnerable and in desperate need of comfort, and he was taking advantage of that.
Of her.
Pulling away, Cormag sought her gaze. He saw her confusion, her regret, her need to feel anything but sorrow and loneliness, and he remembered the promise he had made her. If she ever were to feel pushed to her breaking point, she was to seek him out.
And Moira had.
A part of him still could not believe it that in her moment of need, she had come to him, and he knew he could not fail her.
He would not.
“Please!” she whispered once again, her hands tightening on his shoulders, urging him to continue what they had begun.
Slowly, Cormag shook his head, and she closed her eyes, pain marking her features as more tears streamed from her eyes.
Shifting off her, Cormag remained by her side, his free hand gently brushing a few stray curls from her forehead. Then he leant down and whispered in her ear, “I willna send ye away, Lass. But I canna do as ye ask for ‘twouldna be right.” He pulled back and looking down at her found her dark gaze searching his. “‘Tis not what ye need.”
A spark of curiosity lit up her eyes as she watched him settle down beside her, his head on the pillow. Then he held out his arm to her. “Come. Lie down with me,” he whispered as he reached for her hand, his fingers trailing up her arm.
For a moment, Moira hesitated, but then she moved closer to him, tentatively resting her head on his shoulder. His arm rose and wrapped around her, pulling her closer still, tucking her into his embrace as her left hand came to rest on his chest where his heart beat at an erratic pace.
Never in his life had Cormag felt like this before: content and terrified at the same time.
“Sleep,” he whispered, his lips brushing against the top of her head. “I’ll hold ye all night if ye want me to.”
With a sigh, she snuggled deeper into his arms, and he felt the hard tension leave her body as her breathing calmed. Her chilled skin began to warm where it rested against his, and Cormag reached out to pull the blanket over her, shielding her from the nip in the cooling night air.
His fingers trailed gently over her arm resting on his chest, and Cormag felt the tips of her fingers brush against his skin as though in answer. He knew she was not yet asleep, aware of the slight skip in her pulse every time his fingers settled back on her skin, skimming along the slim line of her arm from her elbow all the way down to her wrist, then onto her hand until his fingers slid in-between hers as though he wished to grasp her hand.
A shuddering sigh left her lips, fanning against his skin, and a part of Cormag wished he had re-donned his shirt before lying down. Still, he did not dare move now as the thought of leaving her embrace brought a deep sense of loss to his heart.
Instantly, his arm tightened around her, and his hand finally did grasp hers, holding on despite his determination to keep his distance. Cormag felt her smile, her head still snuggled onto his shoulder, and a part of him−quite another one−marvelled at the thought that Moira might be feeling the same.
A sense of peacefulness claimed him as they lay in each other’s arms, and as he drifted off to sleep for the second time that night, he dimly heard his mother’s voice whisper, Hold on to her. Dunna let her go.
26
A New Morning
Warmth and contentedness engulfed Moira, and her limbs felt heavy in a most soothing and utterly relaxed way. She inhaled a languid breath as slumber slowly fell away, and her skin tingled with joy as she felt the sun’s first rays on her skin. Her heart beat steady…below her ear?
Moira tensed.
For a second, she lay perfectly still, not even daring to open her eyes. Then she cracked one eye open, and in that very moment, the events of the previous night returned in a crashing wave.
Drawing in a sharp breath, Moira surged upward, staring down at the bare-chested man lying beside her. Unfortunately, her reaction drew Cormag from his own slumber with a sudden jolt. His eyes flew open, and he too jerked upward as though stung.
In the next instant, his forehead collided with hers.
Moira bit back a cry of pain as stars began to dance in front of her eyes. Her hand flew to her head as she sagged backwards and sank back down onto the pillow. Dimly, she heard Cormag suck in a sharp breath, mingled with a low growl deep in his throat.
Then silence followed, and Moira realised that her eyes had closed once more.
Drawing in a deep breath, she lay still, desperate to look at the man beside her, but not finding the courage to do so. Her head throbbed, but the pain slowly receded as every fibre of her body reached out to the man who held her in his arms all night.
The thought brought fresh tears to Moira’s eyes, and she forced them back down. She had gone to him the night before as the coldness and loneliness she had found in the chamber he had taken her to had become too much for her to bear. Her heart had ached with an acuteness she had never known before, and her thoughts had time and time again returned to the man who would not allow her close but who equally could not keep away from her. She had remembered his tenderness and his fierceness. She had remembered how he had kissed her, his touch setting her skin on fire and chasing away the coldness that always lingered nearby. And she had known that his touch would help her find peace that night.
And so, Moira had sneaked from her bed and tiptoed to his chamber after finding her own unlocked. In the back of her mind, she had wondered if he had merely forgotten to lock her in or if a part of him had wanted her to come to him.
Whichever it had been, Moira had not cared.
All she had cared about had been the way his hands had seized her, bringing her closer. His skin had felt hot against hers, and she had reached for his warmth with every fibre of her
being. She had been willing to give him anything he wanted if only he would not leave her alone in the cold.
That thought had terrified Moira to her core, and not until the moment Cormag had pulled back, urging her to look at him, had she realised that she had gone too far. That she had offered more than she had been willing to give.
But he had known. Somehow, Cormag had seen her longing, her need, and once again, he had been there for her.
All too vividly did Moira remember how gently he had pulled her into his arms, her head coming to rest on his shoulder. She had felt warm and safe and…loved even, and in that moment when his fingers had trailed across her skin, she had allowed herself to believe that he truly cared for her.
That there was still someone in the world, in her life, here and now, who wanted her close.
“Are ye all right?” Cormag’s voice was a mere whisper, soft and soothing, and for a moment, Moira wanted nothing more than to hold onto the night they had shared. A part of her did not want to open her eyes, but stay like this, here with him, forever.
Gently, the tips of his fingers brushed over her forehead, and slowly, Moira surrendered. Her eyes opened, and she prayed that perhaps some of what she had felt the night before was still there.
Propped on one elbow, Cormag lay beside her, the fingers of his right hand trailing down her temple as he watched her, his grey eyes dark in the early morning light.
His warmth still lingered on her skin, and instinctively, she turned toward him. “I’m fine,” she whispered before her own hand reached out toward him. “And ye?”
As his hand ceased its movement and came to rest upon her shoulder, Moira gently touched his face. Her heart raced, but in a way that felt utterly intoxicating.
Cormag drew in a shuddering breath. Then he swallowed; for a second his eyes drifted upward and away from hers as though he needed a moment to himself. “Ye slept like a rock,” he remarked, a slight curl to his lips.
Moira smiled. “I havena slept this well in years,” she confided, feeling the need to thank him for what he had done for her. “I…I hope ‘twas not too uncomfortable for ye.”
Slowly, he shook his head. “Nay, not at all. ‘Twas verra…comfortable.” A moment passed, and then another. “Are ye all right? Last night, ye were…” His grey eyes searched hers as though looking for injuries he had glimpsed the night before.
Moira dropped her gaze as heat shot to her face. “I’m sorry I burdened ye with−”
“Ye didna.” His hand moved from her shoulder and settled under her chin, urging her to look at him. “I asked ye to come to me, and ye did.” He swallowed. “I’m glad ye did, and I’m sorry I didna see right away what ye needed. I shouldna have−”
Moira smiled, wondering if they would ever be able to speak openly with one another, without hiding for fear of rejection, for fear of the consequences honesty might force upon them.
Cormag’s brows crinkled into a frown. “What? I wish I knew what…”
Feeling suddenly daring, Moira pushed herself up onto her elbow, her eyes holding his as she moved closer. “I didna mind yer kiss or yer touch,” she whispered, watching the way his gaze grew more intense at the memories her words conjured. “I admit I wasna ready for more last night, but I enjoyed being close to ye.” She swallowed, and all humour fell from her. “I trust ye. I feel safe with ye, and I want…” Moira paused, seeing the way the muscle in his jaw twitched, and in the spur of the moment, she leant forward and gently pressed her lips to his.
27
A Mother’s Call
Her words brought joy to his heart, joy and longing, and Cormag knew in that moment that he had not been the only one affected by their shared night. Never had he allowed himself to be close to another in such a way. And to hear her say out loud what he himself had only realised moments earlier was a temptation he could not resist.
Her lips felt soft against his own, and he returned her kiss with the same tenderness she bestowed on him. Only when Moira leant closer, striving toward him, did he reach out and skim his knuckles along the line of her jaw, feeling her tender skin.
There was no passion in this encounter. Nothing desperate fuelled by fear or need or loneliness. Nothing that lingered in the blood and only knew the need for satisfaction.
Instead, it was something deep in his soul that answered her tentative touch, revealing and asking at the same time. Cormag felt vulnerable, exposed, and knew that he ought to pull back, shield himself and not let her see him. But he did not. He allowed her closer, allowed her to reach for him, allowed her to step past the barrier that now lay crumbled around him.
“I care for ye,” he whispered against her lips, reclaiming her mouth the moment the last word had left his tongue, afraid to hear her response and learn that it did not match his own.
Perhaps fear lingered after all, but it was no longer all-consuming, and Cormag knew that he ought not allow it to control him any longer.
After all, had his father not also loved the woman he had married? Had he not also given his heart free rein to choose as it wished? And still, he had been a wise man, a good laird, guiding his clan with reason and compassion hand in hand.
Was there a reason Cormag could not do the same?
Lost in the moment, Cormag barely heard the soft knock on his door. Only when it flew open a moment later, hurried footsteps crossing the threshold, was he able to pull himself from the haze that lingered on his heart and mind.
His eyes went wide as he stared at Moira, the expression on her face a mirror of his own, before his head jerked around and he found his mother standing halfway between the open door and his bed, her green eyes as round as plates as she stared back at them. Before Cormag had a chance to react, to speak, to…do something, the corners of her mouth curled up into a teasing smile. “Now, this I wouldna have expected.”
Sliding from the bed while Moira yanked the blanket up to her chin, Cormag found his shirt in a corner of his chamber and quickly pulled it over his head. “What are ye doing here, Mother?” he demanded, embarrassment giving his tone a hard edge. “How dare ye burst into my chamber?”
His mother cocked her head at him, her brows rising in challenge. “Now, dunna pretend to be angry with me,” she chided, a lofty laugh spilling from her mouth before her expression sobered. Still, a spark of something Cormag could not quite make out lingered in her green eyes. “If ye must know,” she continued, her right foot now tapping the floor as though in impatience, “I was worried about ye for ‘tis not like ye at all to…sleep in.” She glanced at Moira, and a teasing grin danced over her features. “All yer life, ye’ve been up and about the moment the sun rose, can ye truly fault me for being concerned about ye? I’ve been waiting in yer study for over half an hour.”
Cringing, Cormag closed his eyes as he remembered that he had asked her to meet him in order to discuss Ian’s return and how best to proceed. Unable to remain unbiased where Ian as well as Moira were concerned, he had thought to seek his mother’s advice. Admittedly, it often went against every fibre of his being, but he had been desperate.
He still was.
“I apologise,” Cormag gritted out. “I was−”
“No need to apologise.” Chuckling, his mother turned to look at Moira. “Are ye all right, dear? Ye seem awfully pale.”
Cormag saw Moira swallow, and her eyes darted to him for a split second before she sat up, her mouth opening to speak.
“I would ask ye to leave, Mother,” Cormag interfered, stepping forward and taking his mother’s arm, “and not a word of this to anyone. Do ye hear?” He held her eyes for a long moment, worried what his mother might do. Her reaction to finding Moira in his bed suggested that she was far from displeased. He also knew that his mother had long since urged him to tie the knot, and he feared that she would see this as confirmation that he had indeed chosen.
Had he? Cormag wondered. Perhaps so. However, he could not be certain how Moira felt, and he would not allow his mother to pressure her
into a situation she did not wish to choose freely. He would not take advantage of her.
Never.
His mother chuckled, “And why not?” she whispered, glancing over his shoulder.
Cormag gritted his teeth. “Nothing happened, and I willna have ye spread rumours.”
His mother’s jaw dropped in mock outrage. “Are ye saying I’m a tattletale?” Her eyes narrowed, and she shook her head at him. “I resent that. I−”
“I should go.”
Turning around, Cormag saw Moira step from the bed, her arms wrapped around herself as she tiptoed toward the door. Her gaze remained downcast, and he could see her teeth worrying her lower lip. “Wait! I−”
“Ye dunna intend to step out into the corridor like that, do ye?” his mother interfered, moving toward Moira as her eyes travelled over the simple white shirt she still wore. Then she looked at him. “That would certainly spread rumours.”
Cormag rolled his eyes, hating the way his mother sometimes made him feel like a foolish lad again.
“I…eh…,” Moira began, her gaze shifting back and forth between him and his mother. “My dress is…”
“’Tis all right, dear. Let me help ye.” Unfastening the cloak from around her neck, his mother stepped forward and draped it around Moira’s shoulders, pulling it tight in the front to hide her state of dishabille. “There. ‘Twill do for now. Where is yer dress, dear, and yer shoes?” His mother cast him a questionable look before she guided Moira from the room after ensuring that the corridor lay deserted. “We shall speak of this later,” she told him, sticking her head in through the door one last time.
Cormag groaned, raking his hands through his hair. Indeed, his mother would have a lot to say on the matter.
28
A Matter of the Mind
