“My head hurts like the very devil, and I can’t open my left eye,” she said in a strong voice, “but I don’t think he broke any bones.”
God in Heaven. If Sean were not already dead, Duncan would go back and kill him now. “There was a lot of blood. If ye have a wound, we should bind it.”
He had checked her for fresh bleeding as best he could in the night and found none, but he needed to be sure.
“The blood is his,” she said. “The blade I was holding must have gone into him when he knocked me over and fell on top of me.”
Duncan had fought all kinds of men, good and bad, and he had seen plenty of evil. Still, it shocked him how any man could violently attack a woman.
“Had he hurt ye before?” he asked.
“Not like this,” she said.
He swallowed. “What happened?”
Moira pulled away from him and drew the blanket tightly around her. “Sean saw how ye looked at me, that’s what happened,” she said in a hard voice.
She blamed him.
“Sean was always getting jealous for no cause,” she snapped.
Duncan let that sink in. “I’ll get ye another blanket, then ye should try to rest some more.”
“I must bring my son home to Dunscaith,” she said as she stared out to sea.
“I’m sure the lad is safe,” Duncan said. “Even the MacLeod would not harm a child he had agreed to foster.”
That was the only reassurance he could give her. Even if there were not such animosity between the MacDonalds and the MacLeods—and there was soon to be more—a boy belonged to his father’s clan. The MacQuillans were unlikely to agree to let Moira have their chieftain’s son, especially when they believed that she, or the man she left with, had murdered their chieftain.
“Duncan!” Niall called from the front of the boat. “They’re following us.”
Chapter 11
Erik MacLeod narrowed his eyes as he watched his chieftain’s guards escort the visitor into the Great Hall of Dunvegan Castle. The guards brought him to a halt a respectful distance from the dais, where Alastair Crotach MacLeod sat looking every inch the great chieftain he was, despite his hunched shoulder.
It was unusual, to say the least, to see a MacDonald of Sleat in Dunvegan Castle, except in the dungeon. If the chieftain was surprised, he did not show it.
The visitor was a big, fair-haired man in his midthirties who had earned the name Hugh Dubh, Black Hugh, for his black heart. If rumors were to be believed, Hugh had a hand in the deaths of his former chieftain and the chieftain’s eldest son, who were his half brother and nephew.
Erik admired the man’s ruthlessness in pursuing his ambitions. Erik’s chieftain disapproved of Hugh, but then, Alastair MacLeod had never had to fight for his place in this world. He was born to be a chieftain and would die one. Of course, the MacLeod’s dislike of Hugh would not prevent him from using the man to benefit his clan.
“My nephew Connor is scheming to take the Trotternish Peninsula from ye,” Hugh said after the formal greetings. “If I were the chieftain of the MacDonalds of Sleat, as I ought to be, I’d be content with the lands we have.”
“As the keeper of Trotternish Castle,” the chieftain said, turning his gaze to Erik, “are ye worried about this pup Connor taking Trotternish from us?”
Erik had worked single-mindedly for years to earn his chieftain’s trust and respect. He’d had much to overcome. His father had been a warrior better known for his drinking than for his skill with a sword, and his mother was a woman of no consequence at all. After Erik had led the attack when they took Trotternish Castle from the MacDonalds, his chieftain had finally given him his just reward.
There wasnothingErik would not do to retain the castle and his position as its keeper.
“I haven’t lost a wink of sleep over it,” Erik lied and forced a laugh. “From what I hear, the new MacDonald chieftain has so few men and war galleys that he’d be a fool to launch an attack against us.”
Erik knew his chieftain was pleased with his response, though the MacLeod’s face remained expressionless. His chieftain did not want Hugh to believe he had anything of value to offer them.
“I’d advise ye not to underestimate Connor,” Hugh said. “Through surprise and cunning, he has won battles against greater numbers before.”
“Why do ye warn us?” the MacLeod asked.
“Connor is responsible for the deaths of two of my half brothers,” Hugh said. “I want him to pay for that with his life.”