Page 48 of The Warrior
Moira blinked against the sting in her eyes at her fist sight of Dunscaith Castle sitting majestically on its rock island off the headland. As they sailed nearer, the rain cleared, revealing the green hills behind the castle and the purple mountains across the bay to the northwest.
“I’d forgotten how beautiful it is,” she said. Growing up, Moira had taken both the beauty of her home and her happiness for granted.
“Aye, ’tis a lovely sight,” Duncan said, standing beside her. “And Dunscaith is a strong fortress as well.”
It had been easy to be fearless here.
The guards standing on the castle wall recognized Duncan’s boat and waved. Moira waved back with both arms. At long last, she was coming home. If only Ragnall were here with her, all would be well.
“Once I have my son safely behind the walls of Dunscaith,” she said, “he’ll never be in danger again.”
“Ragnall has MacDonald blood in him,” Niall said from behind her, where he was sitting with his injured leg propped up. “Once he’s grown, he’ll not be content to hide behind walls when it’s time to fight.”
Moira was not going to think about that now.
“It looks as though the whole household is coming out to greet us,” Duncan said.
A steady stream of people were crossing the narrow bridge slung between Dunscaith and the main island and coming down to the shore. Moira’s heart beat fast as she tried to pick out her brother. Connor was chieftain now, so perhaps he would wait to greet her formally in the hall.
Despite Duncan’s explanation for Connor’s failure to visit her, Moira felt uneasy about whether he would be pleased to see her.
“Moira!”
She heard someone call her name, and then she saw Connor running into the surf to meet the boat with his black hair blowing behind him. When he reached it, he held out his arms to her. Laughing, she jumped down and threw her arms around his neck. She thought of her beloved father and older brother Ragnall, who were not here, and held on more tightly to Connor as he carried her to the beach.
“Welcome home,” Connor said and gave her a broad smile as he set her on her feet.
They held each other’s hands and leaned back to gaze at each other. Connor looked much the same, lean and hard-muscled, but his face had sharper angles and the lankiness of his youth had given way to a powerful presence.
“’Tis good to have ye back,” Connor said, and he seemed genuinely happy to see her.
“I’ll never leave again,” she told him. “Never.”
Connor raised an eyebrow, but then his gaze shifted to something behind her.
“Is that a horse or a dog with Duncan?” he asked with a laugh in his voice.
Moira turned and saw that Sàr, the traitor, had remained at Duncan’s side in the boat. “That’s my son’s wolfhound.”
“Is Niall hurt?” Connor asked as Duncan helped Niall off the boat.
“Aye,” she said. “He would have died if not for Duncan.”
“Duncan is the best man to have with ye when trouble comes,” Connor said and ran off to help him with Niall.
Moira proceeded to greet everyone who had come down to the shore to welcome her. From the way they stared at her, she must have changed more than she realized. But the women gave her affectionate smiles as Moira exclaimed over all the new babes and the children grown up in her absence.
After some time, a brisk young woman in an ugly brown gown took her arm. “Ye must be weary from your journey,” the young woman said. “Would ye like to go inside now?”
“Do I know ye?” Moira asked.
“I expect ye don’t recognize me because I was only eleven the last time ye saw me,” the young woman said with a warm smile. “I’m Ilysa, Duncan’s sister.”
It was hard to believe this wisp of a lass was Duncan’s sister.
“I’m sure we can find one of your old gowns for ye to change into,” Ilysa said.
Moira looked down at the bedraggled garment she had worn through the disasters of the last several days and laughed. No wonder everyone had stared at her. “A fresh gown and a bath would be lovely.”
