The Warrior (23 page)

M
oira was not in the best of moods. She was unaccustomed to sleeping with cows, and
Teàrlag’s had mooed half the night. Then black rain clouds had blown in as they sailed
out from her cottage this morning. After searching the coastline for hours, they had
not seen a sign of the missing pair or the boat they had stolen.

Moira was frozen and drenched. At least the rain was washing the smell of cow off
her. And she was learning to sail.

“The weather is getting worse,” Niall said, watching the sky to the west. “Perhaps
we should turn back.”

“No.”

“Then watch for a fire along the shore,” Niall said with a sigh in his voice. “They’re
in that small boat. They will have gone ashore to wait for the weather to clear.”

Two hours later, they were nearing the point of the peninsula, and the storm was blowing
full force.

“Teàrlag must have been wrong about them sailing south,” Niall said. “We should head
back to Dunscaith.”

“Just a bit longer.” Moira wiped the rain from her eyes as she searched the shore.
“Niall! Look there, is that a fire?”

The column of smoke was barely distinguishable through the rain and gray light of
the winter afternoon.

“Aye, it is,” Niall said. “Let me talk to Fergus when we land. He and I are near in
age, and we trained together.”

As Niall brought the boat into shore, Moira could make out two figures huddled together
under a plaid by the fire. Relief flooded through her. They had found Fergus and Rhona
at last.

“Fergus!” Niall shouted. “It’s me, Niall!”

Rhona and Fergus got to their feet and appeared to be arguing. But then, Fergus put
his arm around Rhona and waved back at Niall.

As soon as the galley scraped bottom, Moira jumped out into the rough surf. Though
Duncan’s boat was a small galley, it was a struggle for just the two of them to pull
it in because of Niall’s injured leg. As Moira tugged it in, she turned her head to
glance up at Fergus by the fire, hoping he would lend a hand.

Just when she looked, Fergus crumpled to the sand. Then Rhona took off at a dead run.
Moira’s mind felt slow as she tried to comprehend what had just happened on the beach.
All she knew for certain was that she did not want Rhona to get away.

“Sàr, get her!” she shouted.

The wolfhound leaped into the water with a great splash and then loped like a deer
across the beach in the direction Rhona had gone. As soon as they had the boat safely
on the shore, Moira scrambled up to Fergus, who was still lying prone next to the
fire.

Niall joined her and fell to his knees on the other side of the moaning man. When
he saw the blood pouring from Fergus’s throat, he pressed his hand against the wound.

“Fergus, what happened?” Niall asked.

“She stabbed me,” Fergus said, his eyes wide with incomprehension. “Why would she
do that? She said she loved me.”

Niall met Moira’s eyes, and she could see that he thought Fergus could not be saved.
Though Niall was only seventeen, he was an experienced warrior and had seen death
often enough to know.

A mix of sorrow and rage swamped Moira. She took Fergus’s hand and held it to her
cheek. Such a waste of a young man’s life!

“Can ye tell us where Rhona was taking ye?” she asked in a soft voice.

“She said she had never sailed past Castle Maol before,” Fergus said in a fading voice.

Moira and Niall exchanged another look. Castle Maol was the stronghold of the MacKinnons,
who were close allies of the MacLeods.

“Rhona begged me to take her.” Fergus’s voice was so weak now that Moira had to lean
close to hear him. “I knew we weren’t supposed to leave Dunscaith, but she said…”

Tears blurred Moira’s vision as she watched the light leave Fergus’s eyes.

“I never would have believed Rhona was capable of this,” Moira said, wiping her nose
on her sleeve.

“I wonder what is at Castle Maol,” Niall said, “that Rhona believes is worth murder.”

A burst of barks and a woman’s screams filled the air.

“I intend to find out,” Moira said and leaped to her feet.

“Wait for me.” Niall grimaced as he struggled to stand. “She’s dangerous.”

Moira took Niall’s arm and helped him up. Together they followed the barks and shrieks
over the rough ground toward the thick shrubs that grew near the shore. When they
broke through the tangle of brush, Moira saw that Sàr had Rhona backed up against
a boulder. The wolfhound was so tall that his snapping jaws were level with Rhona’s
chest, and he clearly had the woman terrified.

“Sàr, by me!” Moira shouted.

When Moira took hold of the wolfhound’s rope collar, he moved back, but a low growl
still rumbled in his throat.

“We should let the wolfhound rip ye apart with his teeth after what ye did to Fergus,”
Niall said.

Rhona looked Niall up and down with a sneer on her face. “Ye don’t have it in ye to
kill a woman.”

“I do,” Moira said, barely containing her rage.

Rhona met Moira’s gaze, and her sneer faded. “Duncan always underestimated how tough
ye are.”

“Tell me why ye were headed to Castle Maol,” Moira said.

“I was going to visit some acquaintances,” Rhona said.

“You’re not some Lowland noblewoman who ‘visits acquaintances,’” Moira said, taking
a step toward her. “I know you’ve been spying for my uncle Hugh because I saw ye with
him.”

That revelation appeared to startle Rhona.

“’Tis all your fault,” Rhona said. “If ye hadn’t left your husband and taken Duncan
away from me, I never would have gone back to Hugh.”

“You’ve never had a shred of loyalty,” Moira said, and suddenly she knew what Rhona
had done seven years ago. “It was you who told my father about Duncan and me, wasn’t
it?”

Rhona laughed. “So ye finally figured that out?”

“What information did ye give Hugh?”

“There wasn’t much I could tell him except that Duncan had disappeared again,” Rhona
said with a shrug. “Hugh already knew that Connor was getting the men and galleys
ready to set sail. He figured they were going to attack Trotternish Castle and said
he was leaving to warn the MacLeods.”

“I understand how you could betray me,” Moira said. “But how could ye betray your
clan—and murder poor Fergus? He thought you loved him.”

“Love?” Rhona scoffed. “That’s not what men want.”

“So what did you want from Hugh?” Moira asked. “He must have promised ye something.”

“When Hugh becomes chieftain, he’s going to make me mistress of Dunscaith,” Rhona
said, lifting her chin. “Perhaps I’ll let ye be my maid.”

“You’re a fool if ye believe Hugh would do that,” Moira said.

“If Hugh has gone to Trotternish,” Niall said, “why were you going to Castle Maol?”

Rhona looked back and forth between Niall and Moira. Clearly, this was the one question
she did not want to answer.

“I will do whatever I must to protect this clan.” Moira pulled out her dirk. “Duncan
taught me how to kill a man with this. If ye have a heart, I imagine it’s in the same
place.”

“Ye can’t stop Hugh with just the two of ye,” Rhona said, but her eyes were fixed
on Moira’s dirk.

“Tell us now!” Moira demanded and took a step forward with Sàr.

Rhona held her hands up. “Keep that beast away from me!”

“If ye want to live,” Moira said, “you’d best tell me quick what I want to know.”

“Hugh said that Connor’s forces would be greatly weakened after the battle for Trotternish
Castle, whether they won or lost,” Rhona said, her gaze shifting between Moira’s blade
and Sàr’s teeth. “He plans to lie in wait for them north of Castle Maol and ambush
them as they sail home.”

Castle Maol overlooked the narrow strait between Skye and the mainland. The MacDonald
boats would have to sail through it to return home from Trotternish.

“And I felt sorry for ye because I thought ye truly cared for Duncan,” Moira said.
“You’d have him killed, along with all our men.”

“Hugh says he only wants Connor,” Rhona said. “He promised me he won’t harm Duncan.”

“And ye believed him?” Moira asked, her voice rising high in disbelief. “You and Hugh
deserve each other. You’re both liars, traitors, and murderers.”

“We should bury Fergus before we leave,” Niall said, then tilted his head toward Rhona.
“But what do we do with her?”

“This is a great day for the MacDonalds of Sleat!” Connor shouted as he stood before
all the men in the hall, flanked by Duncan, Ian, and Alex. “Thanks to Duncan Ruadh
Mòr, the finest captain of the guard any chieftain ever had, we have taken this castle
that was stolen from us.”

The MacDonald warriors raised their fists, and the floor vibrated with their shouts.
“Duncan Ruadh! Duncan Ruadh!”

Duncan raised his claymore to acknowledge their cheers. He felt gratified that they
had taken the castle with so little loss of life, but the close call with Ragnall
still weighed heavily on him.

“Our former MacLeod guests have kindly left our kitchens well-stocked,” Connor called
out. “So today we feast on MacLeod hare, pork, and mutton.”

“I’m looking forward to finding out if MacLeod whiskey is as good as they say,” Alex
said, causing a round of laughter.

The day was young, but the men had been up all night with the attack and were starving.
While the others enjoyed their celebration fueled by victory, trays laden with roasted
meats, and whiskey that was as fine as the MacLeods claimed, Connor signaled to Ian,
Alex, and Duncan to follow him out of the hall.

On his way, Duncan stopped to speak to Sarah, who sat at the end of one of the benches
eating.

“Why did ye not leave with the others?” he asked as he knelt beside her.

Connor had kept the captured MacLeod warriors as hostages, but he had allowed the
servants and all the women and children to gather their belongings and leave the castle.
Duncan was annoyed with himself for not noticing that the child had been left behind.

“I want to stay here with Ragnall,” she said, swinging her legs. Sarah was so small
that her feet did not touch the floor. “How long will he be asleep?”

“Ragnall is tired after…what happened,” Duncan said. “You should be with your own
clan.”

Sarah shrugged, apparently unconcerned about being stranded in a roomful of warriors
from her enemy clan. Duncan sighed. It would not be easy returning her to the MacLeods
now. She would probably have to remain here until a deal was made for the hostages.

“Tormond.” Duncan waved over a young warrior who had half a dozen younger sisters
at home. “You’ll look after Sarah until we get some of our own women here.”

When Tormond looked as if he would complain, Duncan gave him a hard look, and the
young man closed his mouth.

Duncan went up the stairs and found Connor, Ian, and Alex in deep discussion in the
chamber that had been Erik’s a few hours earlier.

“I’ve decided to remain here and make Trotternish Castle my home,” Connor said as
Duncan was lowering himself into the empty chair at the small table.

Duncan sat down hard. “Stay here? Why?”

“By making this the chieftain’s castle, I’m sending a message to the MacLeods, the
Crown, and our own people that I mean to hold this castle—and to take all of Trotternish
Peninsula back for our clan,” Connor said.

“That will make the MacLeods all the more determined to retake this castle,” Ian said.

“Let the MacLeods come,” Connor said. “I will not hide from this fight or let others
stand before me. I am chieftain, and I’ve made my decision.”

Duncan saw that it was no use pointing out the risk to Connor’s safety. From their
faces, he could tell that Ian and Alex had already made the argument and lost.

“Duncan, I need you to take charge of Dunscaith,” Connor said.

The image of Dunscaith, sitting on its rock island with the sea and mountains behind
it, came into Duncan’s head. It was the castle where Scáthach, the mythical warrior
queen, had her legendary school for heroes. There was no place on earth Duncan loved
more.

“’Tis an honor beyond me,” Duncan said.

“No, ’tis an honor you deserve,” Connor said.

“I swear to you,” Duncan said, thumping his fist against his chest, “no one will take
Dunscaith from our clan so long as I am keeper.”

“There is one condition,” Connor said raising his finger. “Ye must marry my sister
in a fortnight, and I’ll return to Dunscaith then to make sure ye do.”

Relief and joy spread through Duncan. If he could give Moira Dunscaith, she would
never leave him.

“If Moira gives ye any trouble about it, you can tell her that I command it,” Connor
said.

“You tell Moira that, and I’ll wager she won’t wed ye for another six months, no matter
how much she wants to,” Alex said, and the others laughed.

“I fear it would work against me,” Duncan agreed.

“Let’s set sail for home,” Ian said, putting his hand on Duncan’s shoulder. “The defense
of the Sleat Peninsula depends on us—and I miss my wife.”

E
rik glared at Hugh’s men. Their drunkenness and lack of discipline—which began with
Hugh himself—disgusted him.

“Don’t mix with them,” Erik said, returning his attention to the dozen MacLeod warriors
still under his command. While most of his men had been at Trotternish Castle at the
time of the attack, Erik had kept a smaller group in a former MacDonald settlement
on the east coast of Trotternish Peninsula to maintain control there. It had been
an easy matter to collect the men on the way to this end of the island.

Despite Hugh’s slovenly ways, Erik had to admire the man’s cleverness. His plan to
ambush the MacDonalds as they sailed through this narrow strait on their route home
was brilliant. After taking the MacDonalds by surprise and killing their chieftain,
they would sail around the Sleat Peninsula and take Dunscaith Castle.

Hugh was an untrustworthy snake, but then, so was Erik.

After they took Dunscaith, he was going to kill Hugh and take control of the MacDonald
stronghold himself. A dozen disciplined MacLeod warriors were worth fifty of Hugh’s
men, who were clanless pirates. Once Hugh was dead, most of them would slither away.

By taking the legendary fortress of the MacDonald chieftains, Erik would redeem himself
with his chieftain and his clan. And he would have his revenge as well. Hugh had told
him that Duncan was likely to remain at Trotternish as its keeper, so Duncan would
not die in the ambush.

Erik smiled to himself. The revenge he had planned would be far worse than death for
Duncan MacDonald. When Erik took Dunscaith Castle, he was going to cut off Moira MacDonald’s
head and have it dumped at the gate of Trotternish Castle.

“There’s Castle Maol, up ahead.” Niall pointed with one hand while he held the rudder
with the other.

Moira’s heart went to her throat as she looked at the MacKinnon stronghold, which
stood on a headland overlooking the strait between the Isle of Skye and the mainland.

“The strait is so narrow that it makes a perfect place to trap our boats,” Moira said.
“Perhaps we should have brought Rhona. She might have been able to show us where Hugh
has set his ambush.”

They had left Rhona where they found her and pushed the little boat she stole out
to sea.

“Well, I know I slept better when we camped last night not having to worry about her
slitting my throat,” Niall said, sounding cheerful. “Besides that, she would have
tried to cause trouble and alert Hugh once we got here.”

“You’re right,” Moira said. “We’re better off with her stranded miles away.”

“Our men won’t be expecting an attack from MacKinnon lands,” Niall said. “We had some
trouble with the MacKinnons shortly after the four returned from France, but none
since.”

“Will the MacKinnons let Hugh attack our boats from their lands?” Moira asked.

“The MacKinnons don’t want a clan war with us, but they’re not our friends,” Niall
said. “They’ll turn a blind eye to Hugh’s boats and afterward pretend they didn’t
know Hugh was there or why.”

Moira’s heart raced as their boat approached the MacKinnon castle. She half expected
to hear the guards on the walls shout the alarm.

“You’ve heard of Saucy Mary?” Niall asked.

“Tell me about her.” Moira knew the tale, but she was grateful for the distraction.

“They say that Castle Maol was built in the old days by the Norse invaders, and it
came to the MacKinnons through the marriage of their chieftain to a Norse princess,
known as Saucy Mary. This princess and her MacKinnon husband exacted a toll from all
the boats that passed through this strait. Some say they forced the toll by tying
a line of boats together from Castle Maol to the mainland, while others say it was
an iron chain. Either way, the sailors happily paid. When they gave up their coin,
they would look up at the castle, and Saucy Mary would reward them by exposing her
ample breasts.”

The humorous tale seemed in marked contrast to the dark and ominous keep standing
guard over the strait.

“If the MacKinnons try to stop us,” Niall said, “you can distract them by doing what
Saucy Mary did.”

“Saucy Mary mustn’t have minded getting her
ample
attributes wet,” Moira said and pulled her cloak over her head against the rain.

“Don’t tell Duncan I suggested that,” Niall said.

Moira was about to say that it was no one’s business but her own what she did—not
that she wanted to expose her breasts to strangers—but she stopped herself. Duncan
did not try to tell her what to do because he took pleasure in controlling her like
Sean did, but because he wanted to protect her. Of course, that did not mean he was
not misguided in his concern or that she would do as he wished.

Perhaps Moira could learn something from Saucy Mary. When Duncan found out what she
was doing now, baring her breasts might not be a bad trick to distract him.

They were right beside the castle now, sailing mere yards from the walls of the formidable
fortress. Moira held her breath. When they glided past without incident, she let it
out and sent up a quick prayer of thanks. Then she looked up the coastline for Hugh’s
boats.

“Where do ye suppose Hugh has set his ambush?” Moira asked. The strait was so narrow
here that she could almost throw a stone from the boat and hit either side.

“That’s where I would be if I were Hugh.” Niall pointed to a tree-covered point that
jutted out into the strait some distance ahead. “They could hide their boats on this
side of the point where our galleys coming into the strait from the north would not
see them and post lookouts on the other side to watch for our boats’ sails.”

Moira imagined a murderous spray of arrows launched from the trees pelting a passing
boat at close range. Aye, the point was the perfect place for an ambush.

“Our problem now is that Hugh knows this little galley of Duncan’s,” Niall said.

It was an unusual boat, smaller than a war galley, and specially built for speed and
maneuverability.

“Hugh’s men are probably waiting at the point now,” Moira said. “How do we get past
them to warn our men before they sail into the ambush?”

“Either we wait until dark to sail by—”

“But it’s only morning,” Moira objected. “Tonight could be too late.”

“Or we go ashore here and circle behind Hugh’s men by foot,” Niall said. “We can climb
that hill that rises behind the point and come out well up the shore, where we can
watch for our boats and hail them.”

“That’s what we’ll have to do,” Moira said.

Niall steered their boat into a small cove. When he jumped out of the boat, Moira
caught the grimace on his face and knew his leg was paining him. After they dragged
the boat up under the shrubs to hide it, Niall sat down on a rock.

“Let’s have a look at that leg.” Moira knelt beside him pushed his knee-length tunic
up his thigh before he could object.

“It’s fine,” Niall said. “I just need to rest it a wee bit before we start up the
hill.”

“Ach, blood is coming through the bandage.” Moira unwound the bandage and sucked in
her breath when she saw the wound. “Oh, Niall. You’re not walking anywhere on this
leg.”

The wound had broken open completely, and it looked bad.

“Just bind it up again,” Niall said, his eyes intent on hers. “We must warn our men
of the ambush.”

“I can do it alone.” When Niall started to object, she said, “It’s a stroll through
the woods—I’m not having ye die just to keep me company.”

“I’m going with ye,” Niall said and started to get up.

Moira put her hands on his shoulders. “I’ll be much faster without ye. If ye want
to save the others, you’ll stay here.”