* * *
Across the flames of the fire, Duncan saw the wolfhound’s eyes glinting in the darkness. He took another piece of dried meat and tossed it over the fire into the darkness beyond and was pleased when he did not hear it hit the ground. The dog was quick.
“I’ve never seen ye like that,” Niall said, giving him a sideways glace. “It looked as though ye intended to fight their chieftain in his own hall with a hundred of his warriors watching.”
“Hmmph.” Duncan prided himself on never letting his temper interfere with his judgment or cause him to forget his duty. But he had failed to control it tonight. In truth, his hands still itched to murder Moira’s arrogant husband.
“Moira wasn’t at all like I remember her,” Niall said. “What did ye think?”
“About what?”
“About Moira,” Niall said, sounding as though Duncan was trying his patience.
Moira had given him nothing. Not so much as a soft glance.I have no recollection of ye at all.
“Do ye suppose she is all right?” Niall asked. “That Sean is an arse.”
“That he is.” Duncan took a swig from his flask. “But he’s the man Moira wanted.” Her father doted on his little princess—he would not have forced her to marry Sean MacQuillan against her wishes. There were other suitable chieftains’ sons.
An icy rain started up, causing the campfire to hiss and smoke. As Duncan’s temper cooled with the temperature, he thought back on that first moment when Moira entered the hall and saw him. In that brief instant, everything that had once been between them flashed in her eyes.
It was gone almost before he saw it, and then Moira was as cold as this winter rain running down the back of his neck. Niall was right; Moira had changed. Though her eyes were the same astonishing shade of violet, they carried no laughter in them. The cautious woman he had met in the hall who measured her words was a far cry from the carefree lass who ran headlong through the dark, believing nothing and no one could stop her.
Duncan threw bits of dried meat to the wolfhound, drawing the dog ever closer, while he pondered the question of what could have caused such a change in Moira’s nature.
As a quiet man who kept his own counsel, Duncan was usually a keen observer of others. He had been so angry and absorbed in his own pain that he had failed to examine Moira’s demeanor with his usual cool perception. Going over their brief encounter in his mind now, he recalled the tension in Moira’s neck and how she repeatedly smoothed the skirt of her gown with her hands.
Her aloof and dismissive manner had fooled him. Though she had covered it well,Moira was frightened. Who or what could make her fearful? And why in the hell did her husband not make her feel safe?
Only one answer came to him.
Duncan got to his feet. “Stay here with the boat and be ready.”
“Ready for what?” Niall asked, sitting up straight.
“A quick departure.” Duncan leaned inside the boat for a coil of rope and stuck it inside his plaid. “Can ye handle the boat alone?”
Niall shrugged. “If I have to. Why?”
Ach, Duncan did not like the idea of Niall sailing alone such a distance in the stormy sea, but if Duncan was dead or in the castle dungeon, Niall would have to do it.
“If I’m not back by an hour before dawn,” Duncan said, “set sail for Skye without me and tell Connor what’s happened.”
“How can I tell Connor what’s happened,” Niall asked, spreading his arms out wide, “when I have no notion myself?”
“Something’s amiss,” Duncan said. “Moira may be in danger.”
While they talked, the wolfhound had quietly come to stand beside Duncan, probably for what little warmth their sputtering fire gave off. The dog was thin and ragged.
“Leave the extra meat for the wolfhound.” Duncan patted the dog’s head as he left.
He hoped the guards would let him in without any trouble since their chieftain had welcomed him earlier, but he picked up a rock just in case. If he had misread Moira, he was about to cause a lot of unnecessary trouble for Connor. He could not feel too badly about it. Sean had thrown his lot in with the MacLeods, which made him an enemy.
When Duncan banged on the gate, one of the guards opened the small door next it. The light from his torch spilled out into the rainy night.
“Changed your mind about sleeping out in the cold rain?” the guard asked.
“Aye,” Duncan said. “No need to disturb anyone. I’ll just go into the hall and sleep on the floor with the rest of the men.”