Ian almost laughed. If he added Father Brian, he’d have a new foursome. But a one-legged man, a fifteen-year-old lad, and a priest were poor substitutes for experienced Highland warriors in their prime.
“Should I gather what men I can?” Niall asked.
“Men were willing to fight with us because they believed Connor could be our new chieftain,” Ian said, shaking his head. “Hugh will be spreading the word that Connor is dead or gone. Until Connor is on his feet again, it would put him in danger for us to let it be known he survived the attack.”
“Then what will we do?” Niall asked.
“We’ll do what Highlanders always do when our enemy is stronger,” Ian said, meeting his brother’s eyes.
“What’s that?” Niall asked.
“We’ll use deceit and trickery, of course.”
CHAPTER 35
Mice skittered out of the rushes as Murdoc dragged Sìleas down the length of the room. The castle’s hall was even filthier than she remembered.
“Get some food on this table!” Murdoc shouted at a woman cowering in the corner. He kicked at two dogs fighting over a bone and turned to Sìleas. “We’ll have the wedding after we eat.”
“Ye can’t do this,” Sìleas said. “I am already wed. And it was no trial marriage—a priest wed Ian and me.”
Murdoc’s lips curled into a sneer. “So ye believed that drunk your chieftain found was a priest?”
Sìleas was stunned. “Of course he was.”
Even as she said it, she remembered how the priest fumbled through the words and the threat in the chieftain’s eyes when he looked at the man. Other things fell into place that had been buried beneath worse memories of that day: the priest tripping over robes that were far too long for him; his attempt to follow, rather than lead them up the stairs to sprinkle the bed with holy water—before Ian threatened to toss him down the stairs.
“Ye are as easily fooled as your mother was,” Murdoc said.
She was indeed a fool.
“Ian and I said vows to each other, and that makes us husband and wife under Highland custom.” She swallowed. “And no matter what ye heard, I could be carrying his child.”
She instinctively put a hand over her abdomen as the truth of her words struck her.
“Ye think I care whose child it is?” Murdoc shrugged. “But if Angus doesn’t want to claim your brat as his own, well, babes die all the time.”
She gaped at him openmouthed. She hadn’t believed even Murdoc capable of such evil.
“If ye aren’t pregnant now, ye soon will be,” Murdoc said. “One way or another, ye are going to give me the MacKinnon child your mother should have. We need that child to have a clear right to the castle.”
“I promise ye, Murdoc, ye will never have your hands on a child of mine.”
“Don’t think ye can escape this time, because I’ve blocked the tunnel.” He gave her a hard shove. “Go help get food on the table. The men are hungry.”
Ian pulled his plaid over his head as he passed within sight of Dunscaith Castle on his way to the church.
Luck was with him, for he found the priest alone on his knees before the church’s simple altar. “Sorry, Father, but this cannot wait.”
The priest crossed himself and got to his feet.
“Are ye that desperate to confess your sins, Ian MacDonald?” Father Brian asked, as he brushed off his knees.
“No, Father. I haven’t time for it.”
“I thought as much,” the priest said. “ ’Tis a shame, for I suspect it would be a good deal more interesting than what I usually hear.”
“One day I’ll give ye hours of confession over cups of whiskey, if ye like,” Ian said. “But right now I need a different kind of help.”