Whether it was The Sight or something else that made Ilysa suggest he bring the dog, Duncan was grateful.
Ragnall turned to him so that they were eye-to-eye with their faces just inches apart when he asked his question. “Have ye come to take me to my mother?”
Ragnall’s young face looked so hopeful that it pained Duncan. He wanted to take his boy out of the castle this very moment, but he could not. The guards would not let him take the MacQuillan chieftain’s son, and fighting his way out would be foolish. Not only would he fail in his mission for his clan, but he would put the boy in danger. He reminded himself that Ragnall was under the MacLeod chieftain’s protection here and was safe.
“Can ye keep a secret?” Duncan asked, knowing he was taking an enormous risk trusting a young child with such important information. “Even from your friend Sarah?”
Ragnall nodded. “I’m good at keeping secrets.”
Duncan was betting his life on it.
“I can’t do it now,” he said, “but I’ll be returning soon with a great many MacDonald warriors to take this castle from the MacLeods. I’ll take ye home to your mother then.”
Ragnall’s eyebrows shot up. “An attack?” he asked, sounding excited. “How will ye do it?”
“I’d hoped to find a window facing the sea that is wide enough for a man to fit through,” Duncan said. “But the windows are all too small.”
Ragnall was quiet for a moment, then his face brightened. “The window in the tower is bigger.”
“What tower?” Duncan asked.
“Ye can’t see it from the front of the castle,” Ragnall said. “No one goes there because it’s haunted, but Sarah showed it to me. We play there sometimes.”
Duncan tried not to hope too much. “Can ye show me?”
“It’s through there,” Ragnall said, pointing to a low door in the far corner of the room.
Duncan ducked his head as he followed Ragnall through the low doorway and up three steps into a small, round room. The curved window looked to be two feet wide and two feet tall. Duncan leaned out and looked down the sheer cliff to the sea below.
It just might be possible.
“Sarah says the nursemaid dropped the baby out that window,” Ragnall said. “That’s why she can’t rest.”
Duncan was sorry for the woman and the babe, but the ghost story would be useful. Ragnall listened with a serious expression as Duncan explained his plan.
“I’ll leave first thing in the morning,” Duncan said. “When I return, I’ll still be pretending to be a piper. Ye must be careful not to give me away.”
Ragnall nodded.
“There will be a battle for the castle,” Duncan said, “but I will get ye out safely.”
It was Duncan’s first promise to his son, and he meant to be a father who kept his promises.
In the meantime, he had a few choice words to say to the lad’s lying mother.
* * *
Erik’s gaze kept returning to the piper as he played for them after supper. The big, red-haired musician puzzled him, and Erik had not risen to his position by ignoring puzzles.
Listening to him play, Erik had to admit that the man was a true musician. In fact, the piper was so caught up in his music that he appeared to be unaware of all the lasses sighing over him. Still, the piper did not get the muscles rippling across his broad back from blowing on his pipes. He moved with the grace and power of a lion—or a Highland warrior.
It was time for a test. Erik picked up an apple from the platter in front of him and waited until the piper was in the midst of a lively tune.
“Piper!” Erik called out as he threw the apple fast and hard straight at his head.
The piper caught the apple with one hand without dropping his instrument, took a bite, and continued his tune, barely missing a beat, to a roar of applause. Erik narrowed his eyes. Just as he suspected, this piper had the quick reflexes of a man who needed them to stay alive.
Perhaps it meant nothing. But with that warrior’s build, Erik would wager this piper could fight. He was like a man with a debauching nature who becomes a priest. Though the priest might say fine prayers, he’d still have his hands on the lasses.