Today was a day for celebration in every way, and tomorrow, their new life would begin.
Emma could not wait. She only wished that others would find the same happiness that had so unexpectedly found her. Was there still a chance for Maggie and Ian to find joy in their marriage? Would Cormag and Moira ever admit that they were in love? Would Garrett find his wife and bring her back to Seann Dachaigh Tower?
Emma could only hope so.
After all, a lot could happen in a day.
THE END
Thank you for reading Dared & Kissed!
Moira’s and Cormag’s story is waiting for you in Banished & Welcomed – The Laird’s Reckless Wife. We will learn more about Moira as she tries to find her place among the MacDrummonds and finds herself inexplicably drawn to their taciturn laird, Cormag MacDrummond.
Click here to get your own copy of this mesmerizing Highland tale or read on to find a sneak-peek on the following pages!
PROLOGUE
Greystone Castle, Scottish Highlands, Autumn 1806 (or a variation thereof)
Two Years Earlier
The key turning in the lock sent a deafening sound through the small chamber, a chamber that had been hers for as long as she could remember. Never had it been a prison cell though.
Never.
But that had changed the day Moira Brunwood, once a proud daughter of Clan Brunwood, had betrayed her own kin.
Swallowing, Moira rose from the chair she had occupied for the past hour, her gaze directed out at the land she loved, but would be forced to leave that very day. Her hands brushed over her gown, suddenly obsessed with smoothing out even the smallest wrinkle as she turned toward the door.
Slowly, it swung open, revealing the tall stature of Alastair Brunwood, Moira’s brother. His features were hard as his blue eyes settled on her, anger burning in their depth as she had never seen before. His lips were pressed into a thin line, and the muscles in his neck were rigid as he jerked his head toward her. “Come,” he all but growled, his voice harsh, revealing how deep her betrayal had cut him.
Still, Moira rejoiced at that single word for it was the first one she had heard him utter in many weeks. Or had it only been days? Moira could not say. Time had lost all meaning as she had been locked away, her heart and mind retreating from the world, from what she had done. How often had she sat in this chair, staring out at the land that was no longer hers?
She would never know.
And it did not matter, did it?
Her hands trembled as Moira stepped forward. She could feel tears stinging the backs of her eyes, and yet, she did not dare look away for this was her last day.
Her last day at Greystone Castle.
Her last day with her clan.
With her brother.
Bracing herself, Moira drew closer to where Alastair stood, her heart twisting painfully at the sight of his taut face. The way his eyes refused to meet hers almost brought her to her knees, and in that moment, all she wanted was to sink down and weep for the mistakes she had made, the illusions she had entertained. How had she not seen this coming? How could she have been so wrong?
Brushing a blond strand behind his right ear, Alastair stepped from the room, waiting for her to follow. He stood like a sentinel, eyes directed forward as though he did not even see her.
Or did not wish to.
For the first time in weeks, Moira stepped out into the corridor, the grey stones of the walls surrounding her as familiar to her as the back of her hand. Her whole life had taken place in this castle, and now it would have no place in her future. It was hard to believe, and a part of Moira felt as though this was no more than one of her dreams.
Dreams that showed her things that were not real but could be one day. They had been her downfall, and not a day passed that she did not curse the Fates for allowing her glimpses of a future that would now never be hers.
With her head bowed, Moira followed her brother down the back staircase. The day was still young, and only a dim glow of the autumn’s light reached inside the thick stone walls. A chill crawled up her arms, and she drew her shawl more tightly around herself.
All was silent as they stepped out into the courtyard and turned toward the stables. Fog lingered all around her, shrouding everything in a thick blanket, and the air smelled faintly of salt, whispering of the sea nearby.
Her eyes swept over the familiar courtyard where they had danced not too long ago, celebrating their laird’s happy marriage.
Connor’s marriage to an English lady.
With her lips pressed into a thin line, Moira picked up her step and hurried after her brother. Not even now could she think of Henrietta Brunwood, Connor’s wife, without feeling a stab to the heart. After all, it had been the slender, pale Englishwoman who had brought about Moira’s downfall. She had bewitched Connor, stolen his heart as well as his hand, so that he had no longer been able to see Moira.
A lone tear escaped and rolled down her cheek as Moira quickly reached up and brushed it away. There was no point in falling to pieces now. She had cried all the tears she had possessed for the loss of her future.
The future she had seen in her dreams.
The future she had been promised.
And although it was lost to her now, her dreams still stayed with her as though to taunt her.
Every now and then when sleep took her, she would travel to the moment that had urged her to act, to conspire against Henrietta, the moment that had led her down a path of betrayal.
Again, she would see herself standing atop a lush green
