The rain was coming down harder all the time. She left the path and went slipping and sliding down the hillside through the tall wet grass with Sàr on her heels. When she reached the thick brush near the shore, she had to slow her pace.
Moira was close enough now to call out to the pair, but she stopped herself when she recognized the woman.What is Rhona doing here?
“Quiet, boy,” Moira whispered when she heard the low rumble of Sàr’s growl beside her.
She knelt and put her arm around him to hold him back. As she watched, Rhona embraced the man and gave him a good, long kiss.
“Hmmph. It didn’t take Rhona long to find a way to comfort herself over the loss of Duncan,” she whispered to Sàr. “At least I won’t have to worry about her poisoning my food now.”
Moira reconciled herself to walking the rest of the way back to Dunscaith in the pouring rain and missing saying good-bye to Connor. She was not about to interrupt the tryst on the beach. With a sigh, she got to her feet to leave.
Just then, the man with Rhona broke their kiss and turned, showing his profile. Moira froze. For a long moment, she thought she was seeing her father’s ghost.
But no, her memory was playing a trick on her in the fading light of the rainy winter afternoon. Moira felt a deep pang of sorrow. The man on the beach was only a man with a large frame and dark gold hair the color her father’s had been when Moira was a young girl.
Her father was dead.
As Moira climbed back up the hill, she suspected that what had triggered the memory of her father even more than the man’s build and hair color was seeing him in an illicit embrace with a woman. Her father always had women about. Some said that his infidelities broke her mother’s heart. Others said her mother put a curse upon her father, which she may have. Despite all his women, Moira was his last child. At least, she did not know of any others.
By the time she reached Dunscaith, Moira was chilled and drenched to the bone. And she had missed saying good-bye to Connor.
* * *
Soon I will be master here.
The words echoed in Duncan’s head as he passed through the gate of Trotternish Castle.
As he crossed the castle courtyard, a man coming the other way gave him wide berth, and Duncan realized he was walking as he normally did. Though it went against every instinct, he hunched his shoulders and lowered his head.
Once inside the keep, he scanned the hall from under his hood, instinctively counting men and weapons and finding no more than last time. His gaze came to an abrupt halt at the high table. Ragnall was sitting next to his friend Sarah, just a few seats down from Erik.
Duncan should not have been caught off guard by Ragnall being invited to sit at the high table, though he had not been there last time. After all, the MacLeods believed Ragnall was the MacQuillan chieftain’s only son. But Duncan could feel the evil emanating from Erik MacLeod, and he disliked having his son anywhere near him.
Ragnall was leaning his head on his chin and had a scowl on his face. When he saw Duncan, his expression brightened, and he sat up straight. Much as it warmed Duncan’s heart that the lad was pleased to see him, it could spell disaster. If Ragnall acted overly friendly toward him or came too close, it was possible someone could notice the resemblance between them.
When Duncan gave his head a slight shake, Ragnall dropped his smile at once and looked away. Ragnall’s quick perception of Duncan’s signal spoke of lessons learned from living under the threat of Sean’s temper. Though it was useful at the moment, it troubled Duncan. He had much to make up for with his son.
“I see you’ve returned to eat my food, piper,” Erik called out, drawing Duncan’s attention to the center of the high table. “Let’s have a lively tune.”
Erik’s rudeness was boundless. Duncan forced himself to lower his eyes so Erik would not see murder in them. When one of the serving maids brought Duncan a stool and gave him a saucy wink, he remembered Alex’s advice.
“What’s your name, lass?” he asked loud enough for those nearby to hear.
“Mòrag,” she said, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “But for you, I’ll answer to anything.”
Luckily, the lass did not require much encouragement. Now, if someone caught him in a part of the castle he should not be, he could say he thought that’s where Mòrag had told him to meet her.
Duncan felt Erik’s gaze burning holes in him as he began to play. Damn the man’s suspicious nature. When Erik threw that apple at him last time, he should have let it hit him in the head. Duncan had seen it from the corner of his eye and caught it instinctively.
He could afford no more mistakes like that.
* * *
Erik was aware that one of the guards on duty at the front gate had come into the hall and stood behind him, but he made him wait. He was vigilant about reminding the men of the importance of his position. While he kept the guard waiting, he watched the piper.
“What brings ye back from the MacCrimmons so soon?” he called out when the piper finished a tune.
“Well,” the piper said, “the MacCrimmons are a bit too protective of their daughters for my taste.”