“I know him,” Moira said. “I was just going to talk with him.”
Duncan let out a string of oaths that would make the devil blush. “You’re endangering yourself and everyone else. Get insidenow!”
Chapter 31
Moira pressed her face to the peephole, which provided a good view of the high table.
“I used this peephole many times at my father’s request,” she whispered to Ilysa, who crouched beside her. Unlike Duncan and Connor, her father had valued her assistance with difficult guests.
Just now, it looked as though Connor was badly in need of help. Her brother’s and his guest’s expressions were coldly polite, but they had daggers in their eyes. As she had guessed when she saw him standing in the galley, the tall, golden-haired visitor was not the clan chieftain, but his eldest son, James.
“You’ll have to take the word of the captain of my guard regarding what happened at the MacQuillan castle that night,” Connor said, sounding as immovable as granite.
Moira was sorry she had missed hearing Duncan’s version of events while she changed her clothes.
“I don’t know your captain,” James said, his tone equally unbending. “I must hear it from your sister directly.”
“I vouch for my captain’s word,” Connor said, raising the stakes. “And I will not permit ye to upset my sister by questioning her. She has suffered enough.”
Ach, she did not need Connor to protect her from answering James’s questions, any more than she needed Duncan to protect her reputation from gossip.
Where had the two of them been when she truly needed their protection?
* * *
Duncan’s teeth ached from clenching his jaw so hard. He wished the ironclad rules of hospitality did not prevent him from challenging this James with the jewel-studded brooch and the too-handsome face to settle the matter with swords.
When the hall suddenly went quiet, Duncan turned to see who had drawn everyone’s attention, half fearing he would see old Teàrlag waving her arms and wailing in the doorway again.
Instead, Moira entered the hall looking like a faery queen, covered head-to-toe in a silvery cape and matching hood, with the wolfhound at her side. The cape floated out behind her as she swept across the room and came to a halt before the center of the head table.
“A thousand welcomes to you, James, son of Alexander of Dunivaig and the Glens and great-great-grandson of John, the first Lord of the Isles,” Moira said, giving the formal greeting. “’Tis an honor and a pleasure to see you again. It has been far too long.”
James leaped to his feet and started around the table. Duncan was half out of his seat with his hand on the hilt of his dirk before Connor stopped him.
“James will not harm her here in my hall,” Connor said in a low voice, with a steel grip on Duncan’s arm. “Moira’s made her choice. Let’s see how this plays out.”
Duncan gritted his teeth when James reached Moira and kissed her hand like a courtier.
“These are not the circumstances under which I had hoped we would meet again,” James said. “It is, of course, theunfortunatedeath of your husband that brings me here to speak with you.”
James had not let go of her hand.
“I see ye brought the wolfhound I gave your son,” James said.
“I’m very attached to Sàr,” Moira said, running her slender fingers over the dog’s head. “I could not leave him behind.”
“Moira has him in the palm of her hand,” Connor whispered to Duncan, sounding inordinately pleased.
“If ye had a justification for what ye did, ye should not have run off,” James said. “I—and my father—have always been fond of ye, but we could only think the worst.”
“Alas,” Moira said, looking up at James from under her lashes, “Sean’s men were in no mind to listen to explanations that night.”
“Come, Moira,” James said, his tone far too familiar. “Tell me what happened.”
Moira stepped back from James. Slowly, she pushed back her hood and unfastened the cape that had been tied snugly beneath her chin. She let the cape fall to the ground and stood before them all in a low-cut gown that revealed the bruises on her neck.
Several people at the table gasped, and Connor swore under his breath. Hearing that Moira’s husband had tried to kill her was not the same as seeing the evidence of it on her slender neck.
