But despite how revolting she looked now, Duncan had wanted her. In truth, no one had ever made her feel more beautiful—not even Duncan himself when she was seventeen and the prettiest she would ever be. She was touched by it. Did it mean he truly cared for her?
Moira was not sure, but she suddenly wanted to see Duncan. It seemed as if it had been hours since she was standing beside him on the boat.
“Ah, here’s your bath,” Ilysa said, waving in the servants carrying the washtub and buckets of hot water. “Before I leave ye, I’ll lay out a few of your old gowns for you to try.”
Moira hurried through her bath and, with the servants’ help, squeezed into an old velvet gown in a midnight-blue that matched her eyes. After searching the hall for Duncan, she went out into the courtyard to look for him. She found Connor instead.
“Ye look a wee bit better,” Connor said with a smile and kissed her cheek.
“Where is Duncan?” Moira asked.
“He’s gone home,” Conner said.
“To his mother’s cottage?” They had always called it a cottage, though it was just two rooms built against the outer wall of the castle.
“No, Ilysa lives there,” Connor said. “Duncan often sleeps in the hall with the men, but he has his own house.”
“Where?” she asked.
Connor pointed to a white cottage she could barely see near the top of the hill behind the castle. “Duncan says that he can keep a lookout for anyone approaching Dunscaith from up there, but I know he just needed a place of his own.”
“The view must be lovely,” she said. “I’d like to see it. I think I’ll pay him a wee visit.”
“Why?” Connor asked, narrowing his eyes at her. “Is there something between the two of ye I should know about?”
“Of course not.” It was none of Connor’s business.
“Ye should wait until you’re invited,” Connor said.
“Whatever for?” Moira asked with a laugh.
“Duncan likes his privacy. Ye should—”
“He’ll be happy to see me.” Moira winked at her brother over her shoulder as she left, feeling like her old self.
* * *
Duncan opened the door to his cottage. He had been proud to have a home, a place that belonged to him. He kept it freshly whitewashed and in good repair, and his sister had planted a dog rose by his door that bloomed in summer.
But as he stood in the doorway and looked at it with different eyes—with her eyes—he saw that it was just a humble, two-room cottage. Two chairs and a small table fit comfortably in the main room with the hearth. Ilysa had proclaimed it cozy, but he could see now that it was simply tiny.
He sat down on one of the chairs and rested his head in his hands. What a fool he’d been. Moira had lived her entire life as the mistress of fine castles. He could never ask her to live with him here. Her gowns alone would take up the entire second room.
“Duncan, you’re home!”
He started at the sound of the voice coming from the other room and turned. What in the hell was Rhona doing here?
Chapter 21
Before Duncan could stop her, Rhona bolted across the room and threw herself at him. He unlocked her hands from around his neck and set her on her feet.
??Ye said you’d be gone when I returned.”
“A woman can change her mind,” Rhona said, cocking her head to the side, “and a wise man doesn’t remind her that she has.”
When she reached up to run her fingers down his cheek, Duncan caught her hand. “It’s finished between us.”
“Finished?” Rhona’s eyes widened.