“Hugh said that Connor’s forces would be greatly weakened after the battle for Trotternish Castle, whether they won or lost,” Rhona said, her gaze shifting between Moira’s blade and Sàr’s teeth. “He plans to lie in wait for them north of Castle Maol and ambush them as they sail home.”
Castle Maol overlooked the narrow strait between Skye and the mainland. The MacDonald boats would have to sail through it to return home from Trotternish.
“And I felt sorry for ye because I thought ye truly cared for Duncan,” Moira said. “You’d have him killed, along with all our men.”
“Hugh says he only wants Connor,” Rhona said. “He promised me he won’t harm Duncan.”
“And ye believed him?” Moira asked, her voice rising high in disbelief. “You and Hugh deserve each other. You’re both liars, traitors, and murderers.”
“We should bury Fergus before we leave,” Niall said, then tilted his head toward Rhona. “But what do we do with her?”
* * *
“This is a great day for the MacDonalds of Sleat!” Connor shouted as he stood before all the men in the hall, flanked by Duncan, Ian, and Alex. “Thanks to Duncan Ruadh Mòr, the finest captain of the guard any chieftain ever had, we have taken this castle that was stolen from us.”
The MacDonald warriors raised their fists, and the floor vibrated with their shouts. “Duncan Ruadh! Duncan Ruadh!”
Duncan raised his claymore to acknowledge their cheers. He felt gratified that they had taken the castle with so little loss of life, but the close call with Ragnall still weighed heavily on him.
“Our former MacLeod guests have kindly left our kitchens well-stocked,” Connor called out. “So today we feast on MacLeod hare, pork, and mutton.”
“I’m looking forward to finding out if MacLeod whiskey is as good as they say,” Alex said, causing a round of laughter.
The day was young, but the men had been up all night with the attack and were starving. While the others enjoyed their celebration fueled by victory, trays laden with roasted meats, and whiskey that was as fine as the MacLeods claimed, Connor signaled to Ian, Alex, and Duncan to follow him out of the hall.
On his way, Duncan stopped to speak to Sarah, who sat at the end of one of the benches eating.
“Why did ye not leave with the others?” he asked as he knelt beside her.
Connor had kept the captured MacLeod warriors as hostages, but he had allowed the servants and all the women and children to gather their belongings and leave the castle. Duncan was annoyed with himself for not noticing that the child had been left behind.
“I want to stay here with Ragnall,” she said, swinging her legs. Sarah was so small that her feet did not touch the floor. “How long will he be asleep?”
“Ragnall is tired after…what happened,” Duncan said. “You should be with your own clan.”
Sarah shrugged, apparently unconcerned about being stranded in a roomful of warriors from her enemy clan. Duncan sighed. It would not be easy returning her to the MacLeods now. She would probably have to remain here until a deal was made for the hostages.
“Tormond.” Duncan waved over a young warrior who had half a dozen younger sisters at home. “You’ll look after Sarah until we get some of our own women here.”
When Tormond looked as if he would complain, Duncan gave him a hard look, and the young man closed his mouth.
Duncan went up the stairs and found Connor, Ian, and Alex in deep discussion in the chamber that had been Erik’s a few hours earlier.
“I’ve decided to remain here and make Trotternish Castle my home,” Connor said as Duncan was lowering himself into the empty chair at the small table.
Duncan sat down hard. “Stay here? Why?”
“By making this the chieftain’s castle, I’m sending a message to the MacLeods, the Crown, and our own people that I mean to hold this castle—and to take all of Trotternish Peninsula back for our clan,” Connor said.
“That will make the MacLeods all the more determined to retake this castle,” Ian said.
“Let the MacLeods come,” Connor said. “I will not hide from this fight or let others stand before me. I am chieftain, and I’ve made my decision.”
Duncan saw that it was no use pointing out the risk to Connor’s safety. From their faces, he could tell that Ian and Alex had already made the argument and lost.
“Duncan, I need you to take charge of Dunscaith,” Connor said.
The image of Dunscaith, sitting on its rock island with the sea and mountains behind it, came into Duncan’s head. It was the castle where Scáthach, the mythical warrior queen, had her legendary school for heroes. There was no place on earth Duncan loved more.
