The Warrior by Margaret Mallory Page A

Dunscaith, and Connor was made chieftain. But Hugh is still a threat. He’s
     tried to kill Connor more than once, and he’ll try again.”
    “Surely the clan wouldn’t make Hugh chieftain if he murdered Connor,” she said.
    “They wouldn’t have much choice,” Duncan said with a shrug. “The clan will follow
     tradition and choose a man of chieftain’s blood. If Connor were dead, that would leave
     only Hugh and your other miserable half uncle.”
    “And my son,” Moira said.
    “Aye,” Duncan said.
    Moira rubbed the wolfhound’s ears while silence fell between them.
    “Ragnall loves this dog.” Moira’s lip trembled as she spoke. “Sean made Ragnall give
     him up.”
    That explained why the dog was so thin.
    “He’s a big dog for a wee lad.” Duncan turned his gaze to the sea and asked his question
     as if the answer were not important. “How old is this son of yours?”
    “Five,” she said. “Ragnall is five.”
     
    * * *
    Moira lied instinctively to protect her son, but she did not regret it. Duncan did
     not deserve the truth. After living with Sean, Ragnall was hungry for a man he could
     look up to. He would take to this big man who had a quiet strength and the fighting
     skills of the warriors of legend.
    She would never give Duncan the power to disappoint Ragnall as he had her.
    “Ye said the four of ye had a dispute over this boat,” she said to change the subject.
     “How did you get it?”
    “I made a wager with Alex that he would wed within six months.” A rare smile lit Duncan’s
     face. “He was wed in three.”
    “Ach, the poor woman.” Alex was her cousin, but he was a born philanderer.
    “His wife Glynis is happy,” he said. “Alex is a devoted husband and father.”
    So many changes at home. She reminded herself that she had missed them all because
     of Duncan. While she was exceedingly grateful that he’d rescued her, she would not
     have needed rescuing if he had done the right thing seven years ago. He had failed
     her when it mattered most.
    Moira looked out at the empty sea and wondered if she would die out here with him.
     She could almost hear the faeries laughing.

Chapter 13
    M oira was desperate to get out of this damned leaky boat. Duncan was wearing her down
     with his kindness and self-sacrifice. After handing her half of their remaining dried
     meat and soggy oatcakes, he packed the rest away, saving it for when Niall woke up.
    “Aren’t ye going to eat any of it?” she demanded.
    “I don’t need it,” Duncan said. “I’ve gone without food far longer than this. I’m
     trained for it.”
    “You’re a liar. Your stomach has been growling like a bear since yesterday.”
    “I didn’t say I wasn’t hungry,” he said with a half smile.
    Ach, the man thought he was invincible. It was beyond annoying. She shared her meat
     with Sàr, hoping to get a rise from him, but Duncan did not appear to begrudge the
     dog a share.
    Duncan put his arm beneath Niall’s shoulders, gently lifted him, and held the last
     of their ale to his lips. Niall was burning with fever, and she suspected worry was
     half the reason she was snapping at Duncan.
    “’Tis good we’re nearing land,” Duncan said. “We need to find help for him.”
    Moira leaped to her feet. When she saw land in the distance, her heart beat fast.
     Seven years she had waited to see her home again.
    “Is that Skye?” she asked. “It doesn’t look like I remember it.”
    “The storm blew us miles off course,” Duncan said. “That is Skye, but we’re headed
     for the MacLeod end of the island.”
    “My son is with the MacLeods,” she said
    “Our being taken hostage would not help bring your son home to Dunscaith,” Duncan
     said.
    But perhaps she could be with him. She wished she knew whether the MacLeods had Ragnall
     here on Skye or at their fortress on the isle of Harris.
    “See that small bay?” Duncan pointed toward the shore. “It belongs to the MacCrimmons.
     The MacLeod