“If ye have any business to discuss, let’s hear it.” Sean glanced meaningfully toward the stairs and said, “With a wife as beautiful as mine, I’m sure ye understand why I want to get to bed.”
Duncan’s anger, already burning bright, flared like a raging inferno at the thought of Sean touching Moira in all the ways that Duncan once had—and desperately wanted to again.
Niall saved Duncan from punching Sean’s smug face by poking his elbow in Duncan’s side and saying, “Our chieftain asks that ye consider fostering your son at Dunscaith.”
Connor had them make this request as a means of determining if the MacQuillan chieftain was still committed to the alliance.
“We can take the lad with us now,” Duncan said, “unless ye think he’s too young to be parted from his mother.”
“Ragnall is already fostered,” Sean said.
“Who did ye send him to?” Duncan asked.
Sean paused before answering, his eyes glinting with amusement. “I sent him to the MacLeod chieftain.”
“MacLeod of Lewis?” Niall asked, referring to the branch of the MacLeods with whom the MacDonalds were on good terms.
Sean shook his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “MacLeod of Harris and Dunvegan.”
When Duncan wrapped his fist around the handle of his dirk, the MacQuillan chieftain’s guards took their places beside him.
“Ye must have known what a grave insult it would be to our chieftain to send his only nephew to foster with his worst enemy,” Duncan said. “Did Moira agree to this?”
“Ye seem overly concerned about my wife’s opinion.” Sean narrowed his eyes at Duncan, examining him as if he were seeing him for the first time. Then his eyes suddenly widened, and his face flushed a dark red.
Duncan smiled because he thought Sean was going to give him the fight he longed for.One move, and my fist will be in your face.
“We’ll bid ye good night and farewell,” Niall said, grabbing Duncan’s arm. “We’ll be gone in the morning.”
Chapter 9
Moira!”
The hair on the back of Moira’s neck stood up as her husband’s voice thundered up the stairs and echoed off the stone walls. Before she could prepare herself, the door crashed open. Sean stomped into the bedchamber and slammed the door behind him.
“What is troubling ye, dear?” She attempted to make her voice calm, but it came out high and thin.
“Don’t ye play games with me!” Sean shouted. “I know what ye did.”
Moira took an involuntary step back as he came toward her. “I don’t know what ye mean, Sean.”
“Ye pretended ye were an innocent virgin while ye carried that man’s child! Ye whore!”
He backhanded her across the face so hard that Moira staggered backward and fell against the side of the bed. She grabbed the bedpost and struggled to keep her feet. In the last week, she had learned that there was nothing worse than to fall to the ground and try to protect her head from kicks. Her ribs had not healed from the last time.
“Ye will pay for this,” Sean said as he shoved her against the bed.
Sean was always accusing her of perceived wrongs or slights, and she had seen him angry countless times. But this was different. The rage in his eyes glowed like a wild beast and bespoke murder.
Moira looked about her desperately for something to use to protect herself.
“I should have known the boy wasn’t mine. He’s nothing like me.” Sean grabbed hold of her shoulders and shook her. “Ye told me he was born early!”
“Ye remember the blood on the sheet,” Moira said. “Of course Ragnall is yours.”
“Then why does he look exactly like that big red-haired MacDonald warrior?” Sean demanded.
“He doesn’t!” Moira said, her voice sounding far too desperate. “Ragnall takes after my father and older brother. They were both fair.”
