“If you’re going to act foolishly with no regard for the consequences,” Duncan said, shaking his finger in her face, “then ye can expect those who care for ye—and who have a good deal more sense—to tell ye what to do.”
“You’re a pigheaded arse, Duncan MacDonald!” Moira shouted. “For the last seven years, I’ve been under a man’s thumb, my every move watched and censored, and I shall never let that happen again.”
“I’m not like Sean,” Duncan objected, spreading his arms out. “But I won’t have all our clansmen thinking ill of ye because of what you’re doing with me.”
“I thought this is what ye wanted,” she snapped. “Ye certainly seemed to like it—repeatedly—a short time ago.”
“I do want ye,” he said. “Ye know damned well I do.”
She ignored him and headed for the door. “I doubt I’ll have any trouble,” she said over her shoulder as she opened it, “finding a man who appreciates an improper lass like me.”
“Ye let another manappreciateye, and I’ll kill him.”
The door slammed behind her.
Chapter 23
Erik stood waiting on the rocky shore below Trotternish Castle on the appointed night until he saw the outline of Hugh’s boat hovering offshore.
“Here,” Erik called, after glancing behind him again to make certain no one had followed him. “Leave your men on the boat.”
He heard a splash and saw Hugh’s dark shape coming toward him.
“Where’s the boy?” Hugh asked when he reached Erik.
“I didn’t bring him,” Erik said.
“Ye told me he would be here. We had an agreement.” Hugh sounded outraged—as if he had never altered a deal.
“I can’t give him to ye yet,” Erik said.
“Then when?” Hugh demanded.
“When ye give me information that makes it worth my while,” Erik said.
“I thought ye wanted to be rid of the lad as much as I did.”
“I don’t care one way or the other,” Erik lied. “But my chieftain will be displeased if somethingunfortunatehappens to the lad. I need a very good reason to take the risk. I need information.”
“Losing Trotternish is like a festering wound to my nephew,” Hugh said. “I know he is planning to take it back.”
“And maybe I’m planning to fook the faery queen,” Erik said. “If ye want the MacQuillan lad, you’ll have to tell me more than what your nephew is dreaming about.”
“Connor will attempt to take the castle,” Hugh said. “When he decides to make the attack, I’ll hear of it.”
He sounded confident, but Erik did not trust Hugh any more than Hugh trusted him.
“When ye bring me your nephew’s plan for attacking my castle,” Erik said, “I’ll give ye the lad.”
* * *
Duncan flinched as another bloodcurdling scream echoed down the stairs of Knock Castle. He glanced at Ian to see if they should see to the injured, but Ian lounged back in his chair and sipped his whiskey, showing no concern for the mayhem upstairs.
“Those wee lasses of yours have good lungs,” Connor said, raising his voice so he could be heard over the twins’ continuing objections to their nap.
“Aye,” Ian said with a grin, as if it were a compliment. “They’re strong-willed lasses like their mother.”
Connor winced as another screech reached them. And Duncan had thought it would be good for Connor to escape Dunscaith for a couple of hours rather than send for Ian.
