At last, she reached Duncan and wrapped her arms around his legs to help anchor him with her weight. With his every muscle straining, Duncan held Niall as another wave crashed over them. He grunted with the final effort of hoisting Niall’s limp body up and over the side of the boat. All three of them fell into the bottom of the boat as it rocked back.
Before Moira could right herself, Duncan had turned Niall onto his stomach and began rhythmically pushing on his back. Moira crouched beside him while he worked to save Niall. He pushed once, twice, three times.
O shluagh! Breathe, Niall, breathe!It could not be too late.
Finally, Niall coughed and choked and threw up seawater.
“God help me, I thought I’d lost him,” Duncan said, looking up at her. “Can ye take care of him? I must take the rudder.”
Moira had been so focused on Niall that she had not noticed that the boat was listing dangerously to the side again.
“Go. I’ve got Niall,” she said.
Niall gasped and coughed as Moira rubbed his back.
“Can ye see where he’s bleeding from?” Duncan called out above her.
Niall had a long gash along the side of his face, but it did not look deep. She scanned the rest of him, trying to discern where all the blood was coming from. A dark red cloud was spreading through his wet tunic over his thigh. When Moira lifted the cloth, she had to swallow back the bile rising in her throat at the sight of the torn flesh.
“We need to stop the bleeding,” Duncan said, glancing down at Niall’s leg. “Take my dirk and cut a strip of cloth for a bandage.”
She reached over Niall’s prone body to take the dirk from Duncan’s hand, then quickly cut two long strips of cloth from the hem of her gown. When she had them ready, Duncan dropped to his knee to help her wrap the makeshift bandage around Niall’s thigh.
“We’re past the worst of the storm,” Duncan said. “With luck and God’s grace, we’ll ride out the rest of it.”
When Moira glanced up, she saw that it was true. The swells were not so high, and the sky was light up ahead. She had been certain they would all die. Her hands shook as she wrapped the second strip around Niall’s leg and tied a knot to bind it.
Niall groaned as Duncan helped her tug the knot tight.
“You’ll be all right,” she told Niall, and prayed it was true.
She stole another look at Duncan. It was thanks to his skill with the boat, his exceptional strength, and the force of his will that they had survived.
Moira lifted Niall’s head onto her lap and wiped the blood and vomit from his face. “He’s still so cold,” she said.
Duncan fetched a blanket and gently tucked it around Niall. Then he snapped his fingers at Sàr and the wolfhound lay down beside Niall. “The dog will help keep him warm.”
Niall opened his eyes and gave Duncan a faint smile. “Ye looked like Cúchulainn himself when ye were pulling me in on that rope.”
“Lie still and rest.” Duncan spoke in a soft voice as if he were putting a wee bairn to bed. He smoothed the wet hair back from Niall’s face until Niall closed his eyes again.
Niall’s comparison of Duncan to the mythical Celtic warrior of legend was apt. His powerful build and indomitable will were what had drawn Moira to him and stirred her blood when she was seventeen.
But it was this gentle side of Duncan that had stolen her heart.
* * *
Duncan bailed the boat with one hand while steering as best he could with a broken rudder. The little galley, as fine a boat as he had ever sailed, was holding together with spit and a prayer. At least the sea was calm now. If they hit another squall, he feared the galley would break into pieces.
Duncan took a deep breath. That had been far too close. God help him, he had almost lost Ian’s brother. And Niall was not out of danger yet. The wound in his leg was deep, and he had lost a lot of blood.
Moira hovered over Niall, who was moaning in his sleep. Her brows were pinched together with worry, and her beautiful face looked painful. The swelling had gone down a bit, but the bruises would color her skin for a long time.
“We stole this little galley from Shaggy Maclean when we escaped from his dungeon,” Duncan said in an attempt to take her mind off Niall and their precarious situation. “The four of us had a long-running argument over who had the better right to it.”
“How did ye end up in Shaggy’s dungeon?” she asked.
“We left France as soon as we heard about the disastrous battle against the English at Flodden.” Duncan looked off at the horizon, remembering it all. “We didn’t know that your father and brother Ragnall were dead or that your uncle Hugh Dubh had taken control of Dunscaith Castle and proclaimed himself the new chieftain.”