Cormag could understand their concerns; still, he had been unable to send her away. A fact that still bothered him.
Returning his attention to the parchment on his desk, Cormag paused when he suddenly felt another’s emotions approach.
A sense of unease, of nervousness drifted toward him, and he felt his chest tighten once more. Then, suddenly, warmth flooded his being, and he was surprised to also feel…a touch of longing. Or was he mistaken?
Rounding his desk, Cormag stepped closer to the door, curious who was coming to see him and why. His pulse sped up on its own accord as the one outside in the corridor stepped closer, then knocked. “Come in,” he called, willing a mask of control back onto his face for despite his own intrusion into another’s heart, Cormag feared nothing more than to have another look at him and know how he felt.
The door slid open, revealing−to his great surprise−the slender, young woman from Clan Brunwood.
Moira.
A frown drew down her brows, and her bright blue eyes were downcast as though she did not dare look at him. Then, rather absentmindedly, her right hand rose, and he watched almost entranced as the tips of her fingers brushed down the side of her temple and then tucked a golden curl behind her ear. Her lips parted, and she inhaled a deep breath before finally lifting her gaze.
The moment her eyes met his, the air lodged in Cormag’s throat, and he found himself altogether incapable of uttering a greeting.
Never had Moira come to see him. Whenever they had met, it had been coincidental. Out in the courtyard passing each other. In the great hall during a celebration. From afar when she had been down in the meadow and he had been up on the wall-walk.
Never had she sought him out. On the contrary, he always had the impression that she sought to avoid him for whenever they did happen upon one another, she always hurried onward as though afraid to linger.
Did she fear him?
Cormag swallowed the lump in his throat when he realised that he could not tell.
Instead of feeling overwhelmed by a flood of emotions crossing the barrier from her to him, all he felt in that moment was his own heart beating wildly in his chest. He felt nervous and unhinged, and yet, strangely intoxicated with her presence. He wanted her to leave, and he wanted her to stay. He wanted…
Why could he not feel her? Had he not felt her only a moment ago? Was it her gift? Did she somehow prevent his intrusion into her heart? To protect herself? Or had his own gift deserted him suddenly? Why else could he only feel what lived in his own heart?
“I apologise for the intrusion,” Moira said, a slight tremble in her voice. She seemed hesitant and somewhat reluctant as though she thoroughly disliked being in his presence. Still, her blue eyes shone with determination, and it was clear that there was something specific she wished to address.
Trying his utmost to ignore the way his pulse quickened at the sound of her voice, Cormag stepped farther into the room, gesturing for her to follow. “What can I do for ye?” To his relief, his voice revealed none of his inner turmoil, and he silently thanked his father for his guidance.
Clearing her throat, Moira squared her shoulders and took a step forward. “I’ve come to ask for a favour.”
A frown drew down Cormag’s brows as he watched her, unfamiliar with the notion of not knowing what lived in another’s heart. All he could do was guess based on the way her eyes held his, pride shining in them, refusing to let her back down. “A favour?” he repeated, stalling for time as he tried to make sense of her sudden appearance in his study. “What kind of favour?”
Her lips parted, and she seemed on the verge of replying when her mouth closed once again, and a hint of frustration came to her eyes. For a moment, she seemed lost in thought, clearly contemplating what to say, before she huffed out a breath in annoyance. “All I can say,” she whispered as though afraid someone would overhear, “is that…that a situation will soon present itself and that the only one to solve it is Garrett MacDrummond.”
For a long moment, Cormag stared at her, watching the way the muscles in her jaw tensed as she gritted her teeth. He saw her clasp her hands together tightly and steel come to her eyes as though she feared he would mock her. “A situation? What kind of a situation?”
Exhaling a long breath, Moira rolled her eyes. “I canna say more. I need to go.” In a flash, she spun around and hastened toward the door.
Cormag’s heart jumped into his throat, and without thought, he found himself rushing after her. “Wait!” Pushing the door closed before she could open it beyond a small gap, he placed a hand on her shoulder, urging her to turn around.
Her eyes were wide as Moira turned to face him. She instantly retreated until her back was against the door. Still, she did not drop her gaze nor lower her head.
“I’m sorry.” Seeing the way her chest rose and fell with rapid breaths, Cormag took a few steps back. Although Moira was not a small woman, he still towered over her, and even without his gift, he could tell that he had…frightened her? “Why can ye not tell me more?”
Her sky-blue eyes roamed his face, weighing his words and searching for something that would tell her how to proceed. She was more than reluctant to share what she knew. She was clearly…afraid? Considering what little she had said, Cormag surmised that it had something to do with her gift. Had she seen something?
After a small eternity, Moira swallowed,
