Moira’s heart soared at his words, a joyful laugh bubbling up from her throat. “And I’d have waited for you. We’ve wasted too much time denying ourselves.”
She leaned up and captured his lips once more, the kiss filled with promise and a newfound sense of freedom.
The troubles of the clans, the machinations of their enemies, all faded away. In this moment, nothing existed beyond the circle of their embrace, the mingling of their breaths, the racing of their hearts.
When they parted once more, Moira gazed up at Brodie, her eyes shining. This day hadn’t turned out as expected, but she was thrilled.
He took her hand in his, raising it to his lips to press a fervent kiss against her knuckles. In that fleeting moment, the weight of impending battle lifted as they found solace in shared laughter in the middle of the Highlands’ wilderness.
The wind carried the scent of pine and earth as Moira led Brodie deeper into the forest. Their footsteps softened by the moss-covered ground.
“I was raised among warriors,” Moira began, her voice steady. “My da’ never treated me any differently than the other warriors. It’s only been since we’ve been full-grown that he’s worried about our safety.
“Granny was just as fierce,” she continued, touching the rough bark of a tree. “She taught me to be strong, like the oak.”
“You carry their strength within you,” Brodie replied, admiration in his tone.
“Sometimes, I wonder if it’s enough.” Her gaze met his, searching. “The world outside doesn’t always value what we McAfees hold dear.”
“Then let them be blind,” Brodie said firmly. “You’ve no need to prove yourself to those who cannot see.”
Moira unsheathed her sword—a sleek blade that gleamed silver against the green backdrop. “Come now, let’s see how well ye handle that sword, McClain,” she challenged, her tone shifting to playful competitiveness. He had helped her to hone her skills, and she had beaten him at sword fighting at the last Highland Games. Of course, she’d beateneveryoneat the last Highland Games, thanks to his help.
“Are ye asking for a dance or a duel?” Brodie asked, drawing his own weapon with fluid grace.
“Perhaps a bit of both,” she teased, assuming a fighting stance that was elegant and formidable.
They circled each other before striking. Their swords sang as they collided, echoing through the trees. They moved together, building trust and understanding between them.
“Ye’re holding back,” Moira accused lightly.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Brodie countered with a grin. “Just enjoying the view.”
They broke apart, panting and laughing. There was shared exhilaration in their eyes and recognition of each other’s skill and camaraderie forming with each clash of steel.
“Ye fight with the heart of a lioness,” Brodie admitted, lowering his sword.
“And ye, Brodie McClain, have the stealth of the serpent ye claim to be,” Moira responded, her smile softening.
Moira paused on a moss-covered stone, catching her breath. The crisp Highland air stung her lungs, but it felt refreshing.
“Tell me, Brodie,” she asked, “what dreams do ye have for the future?”
Brodie leaned his sword against a tree and joined her. “I dream of peace,” he said sincerely. “And ye, Moira?”
“I wish to be judged only by me courage and skill as a warrior,” Moira replied.
Their conversation flowed naturally, discussing childhood escapades and hopes for clan unity. Each word strengthened their bond—a future where McAfee and McClain stood united as kin.
“Yet,” Moira confided, “I fear I’ll never be seen as more than a girl playing at war.”
Brodie turned to her. “Moira, yer mettle outshines many who call themselves warriors. Don’t let others’ views blind ye to the respect ye’ve earned.”
“Thank ye, Brodie,” she said with a warm smile. “For seeing the warrior in me when others may not.”
“Always. Now, shall we?” He gestured to their swords.
Together, they returned to training, now infused with a deeper understanding—an unbreakable bond forged in steel and solidarity.
