Chapter Thirty
Moira stood bythe window, fingers tracing the cool stone ledge as dawn illuminated the rugged peaks of the Highlands. A secret not yet shared was stirring within her—a connection to Brodie beyond measure.
“This changes everything,” she whispered, voice barely audible. The weight of her news was different from that of the sword she wielded skillfully; it was a delicate yet potent bond of love. How would Brodie react? Would his brown eyes soften with joy, or would his strategic mind weigh implications and consequences?
She brushed a curl behind her ear, resolve firming. “He must know. He must see the hope I see.” Their future depended on the love they fought for amidst conflicts surrounding their clans.
Resolute, Moira descended to the courtyard where McAfee Keep’s morning bustle had begun.
“Moira!” Keir called, approaching with an unruly mop of hair and a broad grin—remnants of simpler days before alliances and betrayals dictated life.
“Keir!” Embracing warmly, their worries were momentarily forgotten. Laughter bubbled between them, easy and free.
As they recalled races through forests and outsmarting other children, Moira said, “We’re older, perhaps wiser, but the fire of those days never truly fades.”
“Never,” Keir agreed. “It burns within us, guiding through dark times and reminding us who we are—children of these lands, fierce and unyielding.”
Their exchange was filled with their shared history, their childhoods, and the love they had for their childhood friends. Even as leaders and warriors they had become, the essence of their youth remained, indelible and pure.
Brodie stood in the shadow of an oak, his gaze fixed on Moira and Keir below. Laughter reached him on the breeze that whispered through the leaves. He observed their intimacy, suspicion blooming within him. And then he remembered the night before he’d been injured, when she had flirted with many different men right in front of him, and his anger grew.
Keir leaned against the stone wall, relaxed and unguarded. Brodie’s eyes narrowed as he searched for evidence of a deeper connection. His heart echoed a silent plea for his suspicions to be unfounded.
Subconsciously, Brodie’s hand rested upon the hilt of his dirk—ready to defeat any opponent for the love of his wife. The laughter below struck a dissonant chord within him.
Moira playfully swatted at Keir’s shoulder as they reminisced about their youthful adventures. They shared laughter that spoke of innocence and an unblemished bond from a time before betrayal’s shadow loomed over the Highlands.
Brodie hid, watching the pair stand in sunlight. His heart twisted with jealousy and doubt, despite his attempts to trust the woman he loved. The scene below remained tainted.
Keir’s silhouette disappeared against the heather and pine while Moira stood by McAfee Keep. She placed her hands on her midriff, feeling a secret flutter of new life.
“Fiona and Alisdair’s baby will have a cousin soon,” she whispered before turning back toward the keep, fiery hair glowing in the late afternoon sun.
After supper, she stood with her sisters, whispering her news. “I have yet to tell Brodie, but I’ll do that tonight. Ye may share with yer husbands, but no one else.” She was smiling ear to ear, excited to see the look on Brodie’s face when she told him he would be a father.
As evening fell, Moira entered their chamber where Brodie stood by the hearth in contemplation.
“Evening, love,” she greeted, anticipation causing her hands to tremble. Imagining his reaction to her news, she asked, “Are ye well, Brodie?” Her voice wove through the silence as she prepared to share their future with him.
Moira reached out, her fingertips brushing Brodie’s sleeve. “Brodie, there is something I must—”
“Where were ye this afternoon?” he interrupted, his voice sharp. He stepped back, tension filling the space between them.
Moira hesitated, her face paling. “I was outside, in the courtyard. Why?”
“Ah, with Keir.” Brodie’s eyes narrowed, his posture rigid. “Seemed quite the joyful reunion.”
Her heart sank at his cold demeanor. “He’s an old friend, Brodie. We climbed trees together and would watch the soldiers training, both of us determined to be just like them.”
“An old friend,” he repeated skeptically.
“Ye doubt my fidelity?” Her anger surged. “I have given ye no cause for such distrust!”
“Moira, ’tis not about trust—” he started, but she interrupted.
“Is it not?” she retorted, her voice rising. “Then what is it about?”
She stood defiantly, unwilling to let her honor be tarnished by jealousy or misjudgment.
