Moira was not in the best of moods. She was unaccustomed to sleeping with cows, and Teàrlag’s had mooed half the night. Then black rain clouds had blown in as they sailed out from her cottage this morning. After searching the coastline for hours, they had not seen a sign of the missing pair or the boat they had stolen.
Moira was frozen and drenched. At least the rain was washing the smell of cow off her. And she was learning to sail.
“The weather is getting worse,” Niall said, watching the sky to the west. “Perhaps we should turn back.”
“No.”
“Then watch for a fire along the shore,” Niall said with a sigh in his voice. “They’re in that small boat. They will have gone ashore to wait for the weather to clear.”
Two hours later, they were nearing the point of the peninsula, and the storm was blowing full force.
“Teàrlag must have been wrong about them sailing south,” Niall said. “We should head back to Dunscaith.”
“Just a bit longer.” Moira wiped the rain from her eyes as she searched the shore. “Niall! Look there, is that a fire?”
The column of smoke was barely distinguishable through the rain and gray light of the winter afternoon.
“Aye, it is,” Niall said. “Let me talk to Fergus when we land. He and I are near in age, and we trained together.”
As Niall brought the boat into shore, Moira could make out two figures huddled together under a plaid by the fire. Relief flooded through her. They had found Fergus and Rhona at last.
“Fergus!” Niall shouted. “It’s me, Niall!”
Rhona and Fergus got to their feet and appeared to be arguing. But then, Fergus put his arm around Rhona and waved back at Niall.
As soon as the galley scraped bottom, Moira jumped out into the rough surf. Though Duncan’s boat was a small galley, it was a struggle for just the two of them to pull it in because of Niall’s injured leg. As Moira tugged it in, she turned her head to glance up at Fergus by the fire, hoping he would lend a hand.
Just when she looked, Fergus crumpled to the sand. Then Rhona took off at a dead run. Moira’s mind felt slow as she tried to comprehend what had just happened on the beach. All she knew for certain was that she did not want Rhona to get away.
“Sàr, get her!” she shouted.
The wolfhound leaped into the water with a great splash and then loped like a deer across the beach in the direction Rhona had gone. As soon as they had the boat safely on the shore, Moira scrambled up to Fergus, who was still lying prone next to the fire.
Niall joined her and fell to his knees on the other side of the moaning man. When he saw the blood pouring from Fergus’s throat, he pressed his hand against the wound.
“Fergus, what happened?” Niall asked.
“She stabbed me,” Fergus said, his eyes wide with incomprehension. “Why would she do that? She said she loved me.”
Niall met Moira’s eyes, and she could see that he thought Fergus could not be saved. Though Niall was only seventeen, he was an experienced warrior and had seen death often enough to know.
A mix of sorrow and rage swamped Moira. She took Fergus’s hand and held it to her cheek. Such a waste of a young man’s life!
“Can ye tell us where Rhona was taking ye?” she asked in a soft voice.
“She said she had never sailed past Castle Maol before,” Fergus said in a fading voice.
Moira and Niall exchanged another look. Castle Maol was the stronghold of the MacKinnons, who were close allies of the MacLeods.
“Rhona begged me to take her.” Fergus’s voice was so weak now that Moira had to lean close to hear him. “I knew we weren’t supposed to leave Dunscaith, but she said…”
Tears blurred Moira’s vision as she watched the light leave Fergus’s eyes.
“I never would have believed Rhona was capable of this,” Moira said, wiping her nose on her sleeve.
“I wonder what is at Castle Maol,” Niall said, “that Rhona believes is worth murder.”
A burst of barks and a woman’s screams filled the air.
