“What did my father and brother do when they saw that Duncan was not here?”
“They sat in these chairs at our wee table,” Ilysa said, nodding toward it. “It felt as if the walls of our cottage would explode with their anger.”
Moira could well imagine it. Her father and older brother had been powerful warriors long accustomed to their authority over the clan.
“When Duncan opened the door”—Ilysa paused and licked her lips—“I thought your father was going to murder him right here in this room.”
“He would not have,” Moira said.
“He said that the only reason he didn’t was that Teàrlag had predicted Duncan would save Connor’s life.” Ilysa met Moira’s eyes with an unwavering gaze. “I believed him then, and I still do.”
Moira leaned over and touched Ilysa’s hand. “I’m sorry I caused such grief for you and your mother.”
“Ye can’t help who ye love.” Ilysa cleared her throat. “Your brother Ragnall told Duncan he would be sailing for France that day, right after the battle for Knock Castle. Then he and the chieftain took Duncan away, without even letting him kiss our mother good-bye.”
Moira and Ilysa sat in silence for a long while.
“My father could force Duncan to leave the clan, but he could not force him to go to France—or to stay there,” Moira said. “Duncan could have gotten word to me to join him somewhere, but he didn’t believe in me.”
“I don’t think that was the reason,” Ilysa said in a soft voice. “It was himself he didn’t believe in.”
“What do ye mean?” Moira asked.
“Duncan left because he believed your father was right to send him away,” Ilysa said. “He thought he did not deserve you.”
Moira stared blindly out the small window. Though she had not paid much attention at the time, she remembered hearing the men make gibes about Duncan’s unknown parentage when they were children. Perhaps there was some truth to what Ilysa said about why he left her.
“That does not explain why he lacks faith in me now,” Moira said. “Duncan is captain of our chieftain’s guard and has a fearsome reputation as a great warrior.”
“That’s how others see him,” Ilysa said. “But Duncan is still trying to prove to himself that he is worthy.”
A sharp knock at the door interrupted their conversation. Without waiting for an answer, Tait, a short, wiry member of the guard, barged in.
“I’ve been looking everywhere for ye,” he said to Ilysa.
“What is it?” Ilysa asked.
“There’s a fleet of war galleys headed this way,” he said.
Cold fear licked its way up Moira’s spine. She had thought she would be safe here at Dunscaith.
“Have ye told Connor?” Ilysa asked.
“He and Duncan rode across the peninsula to Knock Castle,” Tait said. “I sent a man after them, but those war galleys will arrive before they do.”
“Do ye recognize the boats?” Ilysa asked, calm as could be.
“I know the banner,” Tait said. “It belongs to Alexander of Dunivaig and the Glens.”
Moira’s hands went cold as ice. Alexander was the chieftain of a more powerful branch of the MacDonalds and a descendant of a Lord of the Isles, which made them distant relatives. In addition to his lands in the Western Isles of the Scottish Highlands, he ruled over the Glens in Ireland, where he was an ally of the MacQuillans.
“He’s come for me,” Moira said.
* * *
“Are we under attack? What is happening?” women called out to Moira and Ilysa as they raced behind Tait across the courtyard to the castle wall.
“We don’t know yet,” Ilysa told them. “Stay calm, but take the children inside the keep.”