They had made good time and arrived in less than two full days.
“Bring us to shore,” Duncan said, “and I’ll walk the rest of the way.”
A misty rain was falling and the afternoon light was fading, which was good, because everything depended upon no one seeing a MacDonald galley full of warriors land. When Connor and Ian arrived with their galleys, they would take the greater caution of staying out to sea until it was full dark.
“Quiet, lads,” Alex said as he guided the galley toward a stretch of beach with no cottages in sight.
The soft, regular splash of their oars was the only sound the men made as the boat approached the shore. As one, they lifted their oars, and Duncan felt the soft scrape of the hull on the rocks as they glided in.
“Two nights from now, after the household has gone to bed, I’ll signal from the tower window if it is safe to proceed,” Duncan told Alex, though they had gone over this a dozen times before.
“I’ll be waiting,” Alex said. “When I see the signal, I’ll send a man to tell Ian and Connor to have their men ready.”
The plan was for Duncan to drop a rope from the tower room. After Alex and a handful of his men climbed up, they would make their way to the castle’s gate, subdue the guards, and let their main force in through the gate.
“I hope ye haven’t grown too weak from your lax training to climb the rope,” Duncan chided him.
Alex just laughed.
“If the sea is rough,” Duncan said more seriously, “it will be difficult to bring your boat close enough to the cliff to reach the rope.”
“Ach, I could do it with my eyes closed,” Alex said. In the dark of night, it would be much the same as doing it blind, but no one was a better sailor than Alex.
“By then, the castle folk should be accustomed to seeing me and won’t be watching me closely.” Or so Duncan hoped.
“I’d wager that a few of the women will still be eyeing ye,” Alex said with amusement in his voice. “You’re usually blind to the lasses’ attention, but ye ought to be mindful of it this time. I advise ye to pick one of them when ye first arrive, and that will discourage the others.”
“I’ll be wed soon,” Duncan said, offended.
“I’m no saying ye need to bed the lass,” Alex said. “Just flirt with her—make the others believe she’s the one ye want so they don’t follow ye about.”
“I’ll make certain no one follows me,” Duncan said and changed the subject. “With any luck, we’ll surround the MacLeods while they’re still sleeping in the hall, and the fighting will be over quickly.”
“We can hope,” Alex said, sounding doubtful. “Otherwise, this is bound to be bloody.”
“Remember,” Duncan said, gripping Alex’s arm, “the keeper of the castle is mine.”
“And you remember,” Alex said, “that MacLeod hostages are more valuable to us than dead MacLeods.”
Not this one. Duncan picked up the bag that held his pipes and prepared to drop over the side of the boat into the shallows.
“It will all go as smooth as cream down a cat’s throat,” Alex said, which they both knew for a lie, and put his hand on Duncan’s shoulder. “All the same, you’ll be alone in there, my friend, so be careful.”
Chapter 34
Moira could see her breath as she paused to watch the clouds traveling over the lush green hills wet with rain. Duncan did not believe it, but she would rather live here on the Sleat Peninsula of Skye in a small cottage than live in a castle anywhere else. For her, this was home, and there would never be a place she loved as much.
She turned to gaze across the wide inlet toward the misty peaks of the Cuillins. Beyond them, on the farthest corner of the island, lay the Trotternish Peninsula. Duncan and Alex should be arriving there now. Trotternish was starker, less green than Sleat. The castle, sitting high on its forbidding cliff, reminded her too much of the MacQuillans’.
Moira had wandered the hills for hours with Sàr. Since Duncan’s departure two days ago, she had much to think about. She understood that Duncan must serve as the keeper of Trotternish Castle. After prying it out of the thieving hands of the MacLeods, the clan needed its fiercest warrior to be the castle’s protector and defender. But would she go with him?
Aye, she knew she would. Perhaps she could live without him, but she did not want to.
She had faith that Duncan would take Trotternish Castle, but she wished he had enough faith in her to wed her without it. At least he did not think of her as fragile anymore. She smiled to herself. The way he had made fierce love to her before he left was rather persuasive on that point.
When it started to rain, she suddenly remembered that Connor was leaving for Trotternish with most of their warriors tonight. The day had gotten away from her. She started back, hoping to reach Dunscaith in time to see Connor and the others off.
As she ran on the muddy path along the windblown ridge of the hill, Moira noticed a boat and two figures on the shore of a small cove below her. All of the Sleat Peninsula was firmly in the hands of the MacDonalds, so these would be her clansmen. Sailing back to Dunscaith would be much faster, and it was growing dark. She decided to take advantage of being the chieftain’s sister and ask them to take her back to Dunscaith in their boat.