“Aye,” the old woman said, bobbing her head.
Erik MacLeod. Duncan rolled the name of his father and enemy over in his head. He was going to kill this man. “Where will I find him?”
“Erik is the keeper of the MacLeod Castle at Trotternish,” the old woman said.
The very castle the MacLeods had stolen from his clan. When the MacDonalds fought to take it back, Duncan would kill Erik MacLeod and avenge his mother.
“How did Duncan come to be born here among the MacCrimmons?” Moira asked.
“His mother’s grandfather, Old Duncan, was the MacLeod chieftain’s piper at the time. As I’m sure ye know, that is a position of great respect,” the old woman said, settling back in her chair. “When Old Duncan heard that his granddaughter was being ill used by one of the MacLeod warriors, he went to someone in the chieftain’s family, who ordered Erik to marry her or release her to her grandfather. The swine chose to release her, which I’m sure was better for the poor lass, and Erik was forced to make a payment for what he’d done.”
A payment.Bitterness ate at Duncan’s stomach as he recalled his mother’s pitiful hoard of silver coins. He understood now why she sometimes looked at him the way she did. While Duncan knew she loved him, he was also aware that he made her uneasy. She must have feared he might become like his father.
* * *
Moira spent the day helping Caitlin crush herbs and mix them for healing remedies.
“How far are we from the MacLeods’ stronghold?” Moira asked Caitlin as they worked.
“Dunvegan Castle? ’Tis just a short sail from here,” Caitlin said.
“What about walking?” Moira asked.
“Ach, I don’t know. A day, maybe more,” Caitlin said. “The path that goes along the coast starts behind the cottage you’re staying in, but I’ve never taken it all the way to Dunvegan.”
In the isles, people rarely traveled by foot when they could take a boat.
“Why do ye ask?” Caitlin asked.
“I just wanted to know that we’re a safe distance from the MacLeod chieftain’s lair.” Moira gave her a wink. “Ye see, I was raised on tales of him eating small children.”
Niall, who was lying on the bed behind them, laughed. “We were told he prefers to eat MacDonald children roasted.”
Moira turned and smiled at him, grateful for the diversion. Her cousin had turned into a charming young man, and she was enjoying getting reacquainted with him.
“Where have all the lasses gone?” she asked to tease him.
“Every MacCrimmon female between the ages of twelve and eighteen has already visited my cottage today,” Caitlin said. “They’d be here still if I hadn’t shooed them out before supper.”
“I should go as well so ye can get to bed,” Moira said. “Unless ye think I should stay here so people won’t talk.”
“So long as Niall can’t walk, I think I’m safe from him,” Caitlin said, suppressing a smile.
“I’d never press my attentions on a lass,” Niall said, looking so offended that Moira could not risk meeting Caitlin’s eyes for fear of laughing.
“Besides,” Caitlin said, “my grandmother is here.”
Moira glanced at the old woman, who had been snoring on a pallet in the corner for hours, and this time she did laugh. It struck her that she could not recall the last time she had laughed. It felt good.
She was putting on the old cloak Caitlin had lent her when Duncan came to the door.
“Evening,” Duncan said to Caitlin and Niall, then to her, “Let’s go.”
Judging from Duncan’s stony expression, he was still thinking about what the old woman had told him about his father.
“Have ye had anything to eat since breakfast?” Moira asked as they walked to their cottage.
“Some women brought me food while I was tarring the leaks in the boat.”