Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
Murdoch's agitation when Morag arrived at the secret courtyard was so intense that it filled the world around him.
The air was thick with it as Morag moved to pick up her training sword, and as Murdoch paced back and forth, restless and obviously frustrated, she could feel his anxiety seeping into her own skin.
"What?" she snapped eventually, prickliness covering her concern as always.
It was earlier than the night before; Murdoch had arrived first tonight, which was strange enough, and his behavior was so erratic that she was growing concerned. Had Ian berated him after all? Punished him? She could not show her worry, and so she displayed aggression instead.
"Will ye stand still?"
"Am I tae be calm after that display earlier?" he demanded, stopping in his pacing to glare at her.
That felt so ridiculously unfair that Morag's hands flew to her hips and her lips tightened for a moment before she could reply.
"Ye could show more gratitude! That's twice I've stepped in tae save ye and cover for yer blunders.
What a fool ye are—and this time over a horse of all things! Do ye care so little?"
He scowled. "I care plenty. And I never asked for yer help."
Irritation burned on Morag's skin like a sunburn, prickling so hot that it almost drove her cold.
"Asked for or not, ye obviously need it.
Ye arenae built for subterfuge. The Campbells will kill ye in a second if they catch ye, blood or no blood.
And it seems tae me the Kincaids dinnae care much for ye either, if they've sent ye on a totally unsuited mission like this, obviously completely unprepared. "
Murdoch stopped pacing and swiveled to stare at her. His expression wavered, and he tilted his head slightly as if studying her. After a moment, he seemed to make up his mind.
"The Kincaids didnae send me. Naebody sent me. I came on me own because I kent I had tae do somethin'."
The truth shone in his words, and Morag was temporarily struck dumb as it hit her.
For the first time, she understood that there was no conspiracy—in fact, there was barely any plan at all.
Murdoch was not here as a spy because Murdoch had come here based only on his own intentions.
His behavior was erratic because he was erratic.
He had no idea what he was doing. This understanding was somehow both terrifying and exhilarating.
"Why?" she asked, her voice so quiet it surprised even herself. "Why would ye risk yer life like that? What could possibly be worth it? Surely the Murrays and Kincaids will fear ye betrayed them. Ye may as well have turned the whole world against ye."
Murdoch frowned, his brow furrowing as if he couldn't understand the question. "How can ye ask that? I love the Kincaids. They're me family. Regardless of blood, Aila and Lachlan are me mother and father. Elsie is me sister by birth, but Arran and Cassie are me siblings just as much as she is."
Morag stared.
"I cannae let them be in danger if there's anythin' I can do tae stop it.
Neither can I leave the Murrays tae their fate.
They're good people—and now, thanks tae Elsie's marriage, they're me family as well," Murdoch went on.
"And that horse ye called me foolish over?
His name is Splendor, and he was a gift tae the McKenzies.
They're good people too. Family. Friends.
Part of me heart and soul. I will protect all of them, Morag, nae matter what it takes.
If me life is the price I have tae pay tae prevent this war from destroyin' everythin' good in the world, then so be it.
It's a price I accepted the moment I got here. "
Her heart surged almost painfully, hitting against her ribs in an uneven pattern. She could barely move, barely comprehend what she was now hearing and understanding.
"I…" her voice faltered. "I cannae… I've never met anyone like ye. I dinnae think there is anyone like ye."
Slowly, gently, reminding Morag of the way he'd approached the horse, Christopher took a few steps forward. He stopped a breath away from her, a new softness in his expression.
"What about ye?" he asked. "Why do ye insist on learnin' tae fight in a war ye'll never take part in? What do ye have tae fear in a world where ye're likely on the winnin' side by virtue of birth?"
Something burst inside her as she stared back into those hazel eyes. Before she could even think, the words spilled out.
"There are nae sides where my father is concerned. We are allied with the Campbells only because he sees it to his benefit," Morag replied bitterly.
She folded her arms across her chest.
"I want tae learn tae fight because I want tae be free.
Me whole life, as far back as I can remember, I've followed me father's orders because I was taught it was the only way tae be safe.
When he told me that we were tae ally with the Murrays, I understood, and though I didnae want tae wed Rolland Murray, I never questioned his orders.
Then, when Rolland chose Elsie instead, he ridiculed me.
Belittled me. Made sure I kent that I would never be good enough, because I failed the moment I was born and have failed every other moment since. "
Murdoch stepped closer. "Failed how? How can a newborn baby fail?"
"I was born a lassie, and me mother couldnae bear a son after.
I ruined his chance at a true heir." Morag closed her eyes.
"I could never be the son he wanted, and so he expected me tae be the perfect, malleable daughter.
But by failin' tae secure the husband he wanted, I failed at that too.
When he switched sides tae ally with Campbell, he thought that I could put me feminine wiles tae other use. "
"Tae spy on me?" Murdoch asked. "Tae charm me out of me secrets?"
"Aye," Morag admitted, opening her eyes again. She saw no point in denying it now. "That, and tae seduce Ian, or any other laird or heir who would have me as his mistress."
Murdoch's jaw set, but he didn't speak.
"I'm sick of it. I'm tired of bein' used and blamed, of bein' helpless. I'm exhausted with a life that means nothin' but bein' the plaything and tool of the men who would use me. I want tae learn tae fight so I can finally have somethin' of me own. Surely ye understand that, Murdoch."
Softly, ever so softly, Murdoch raised his hand. His fingers brushed her cheek so delicately they were like a butterfly's kiss. Morag had never been touched so gently, and she felt tears burning in her eyes as she leaned into it.
"Christopher," he whispered.
"What?"
"Me name is Christopher," he explained. "It's what me late mother called me when she took us away from the Campbells, and it is how me family kens me.
I can be Murdoch in front of them as I must, but I cannae in front of ye.
Ye make me feel too alive tae pretend tae be a lad who stopped existing decades ago. "
Morag's throat ached and a tear ran down her cheek. Murdoch—no, Christopher—wiped it away with his thumb.
"I'm sorry about so many things, Morag. I'm sorry for how I diminished ye when I first met ye, and the antagonism I've shown ye in front of others since.
I never meant a word of it. It was all part of Murdoch's act, but I cannae be him in front of ye.
How could I? Murdoch Campbell is a heartless mask, and ye—ye make me heart feel so full. "
Christopher shook his head.
"Ye're so brave and strong, even without fightin'.
Of course I'll teach ye if that's what ye want and need, but Morag, ye're smarter than anyone else in this Keep, and under yer own mask, ye're kinder as well.
I've seen it, nae matter how much ye try tae deny it.
Ye're willin' tae take risks, ye're a quick thinker and a natural strategist, and ye care.
Ye're amazin' in a way I dinnae think ye can fully understand, but I see ye. "
For the first time in her entire life, Morag believed it.
She had never felt seen, not really, but she believed that Christopher understood her in a way nobody else ever had.
He had given her his name—not the one bestowed upon him by a cruel birth father, but his true name, gifted to him by his mother and nurtured by a family who adored him—and by doing so, he had finally allowed her to see him too.
He leaned closer, and for a heart-stopping second, she thought he was going to kiss her. She yearned for it as much as she feared it and what it would mean. But instead, he pressed his lips gently against her forehead, pulling her into a quick but reassuring hug, before stepping back.
"Now," he said. "Pick up yer sword. We've a lot of work ahead."
The rest of the night passed in a blur. There was no single moment that Morag could pinpoint, but she would fondly remember it for a long time, perhaps for the rest of her life, as one of the best nights of her life.
The tension between them had scattered to the winds, and the two who sparred and talked and quietly laughed together under the stars in their hidden courtyard did so with a new lease on life.
Morag told him stories of her mother and father and the few bright spots that had shone in her life, and in turn he told her many more tales of his brother and sisters and family.
The more he spoke, the more she regretted letting her pride and caution sabotage her chance to get to know and befriend Elsie what felt like a whole lifetime ago. Part of her, quiet but daring, wondered if she might get another chance before this was all over.
There were two Morags. There was the one she had been molded into for her whole life, the one who her father had beaten and berated and shone until she was perfect and obedient, the one who saw the world only through cold, distant eyes and sarcastic insults.
And now, she had discovered another, one who had sprung from a once-dormant seed she had not even known existed, a bursting blossom that now thrived in the light of Christopher's sun.