The piper said he was leaving in the morning, and Erik would be glad to see the back of him.
Chapter 26
Moira still felt strange sitting in her old place at the high table when everything else had changed—especially her. She glanced at Connor, who sat next to her in her father’s chair. There was an awkwardness between them, and it was not just because she was not accustomed to him being chieftain or because they had been apart for seven years. Fair or not, Moira had not quite forgiven him for waiting so long to send someone to Ireland to check on her welfare.
Sadness settled over her as she looked past Connor to where their older brother, astànaiste, the chieftain’s successor, had always sat. Ragnall had been so like her father—brash and bold and full of life.
Connor caught her eye, and said, “I miss him, too.”
Connor had always been both observant and perceptive. When they were young, she felt as if he judged her and found her lacking. But then, she had been spoiled by her father, who never found fault with her at all.
She remembered that Connor had also been close to Ragnall, though they could not be more different, and put her hand over his.
“I’m glad you’re home,” Connor said and smiled at her.
Moira had been holding back from asking him about Duncan. She had not liked Connor’s tone when he pressed her on that first day about whether there was something between her and Duncan, but her brother’s warmth made her set aside her caution.
“Where did ye send Duncan?” she asked.
Connor’s expression did not change except for a slight tightening around his mouth, but the warmth she’dfelt from him a moment before was gone.
“I’ve been meaning to talk with ye about your future,” Connor said, ignoring her question completely. “Let us speak in private.”
He stood and held out his hand, giving her no choice. With her fingers resting lightly on Connor’s arm, they crossed the hall to the arched doorway that led to the chieftain’s bedchamber.
A swell of emotion rose in Moira’s throat as she entered what had been her father’s private sanctum. She could almost hear his booming voice calling for her. Shock replaced fond recollections as she glanced about the once-grand chamber. Connor had stripped it bare.
Gone were the beautiful tapestries, the ornate side tables, the velvet cushions, and the enormous curtained bed. In their place were plain, rough-hewn chairs, a small table, a battered chest that looked as if it had been retrieved from the sea, and the bed she recognized as the one Connor had slept in as a boy.
She was both hurt and curious as to why her brother had been so intent on removing every scrap of their father’s memory from his bedchamber. Before she could remark upon it, Connor shut the door and spoke first.
“Ye must be more cautious about what ye say and where ye say it,” Connor said, fixing his intent, silver-blue eyes on her. “Someone could have heard ye ask where I sent Duncan.”
“Where did ye send him?” she asked.
“You’re not hearing me, Moira,” Connor said. “Hugh has spies in the castle. Ye could endanger both Duncan and the clan by talking out of turn like that.”
“If anyone had told me where he’s gone and why,” she said, crossing her arms, “I wouldn’t have to ask.”
Connor sighed as if she were a trial. “He’s on important clan business, and that’s all ye need to know.”
“I was helping Father with important clan business while the four of ye were off having your adventures,” she said, “so don’t give me that look as if I won’t understand.”
“If our father had wanted my help, I would have given it.” Connor spoke in a tone devoid of emotion as he poured himself a cup of whiskey from the jug on the table. He took a drink, and then said, “I sent Duncan alone into Trotternish Castle.”
Moira put her hand to her heart. “You what?”
When Connor told her the rest, Moira sat down hard on one of the chairs. She had trouble getting her breath as she thought of Duncan in a castle full of their enemies, his life dependent on this ruse.
“Ye must not breathe a word of this,” Connor said. “If Duncan is found out, the MacLeods will skin him alive.”
“So why did ye send him?” Moira demanded. “He’s been your best friend all your life.”
“It was his idea,” Connor said.
“How can ye be so cold?” she asked. “Do ye not care about any of us?”
“I care about every member of this clan, which is why I let him go,” Connor said in a voice so calm Moira wanted to slap him. “And while we’re discussing Duncan, just what do ye plan to do about him?”