The Warrior by Margaret Mallory Page B

truth.
     
    * * *
    Duncan had not thought it possible, but Moira was even lovelier than before. The girl
     had given way entirely to woman, and the result took his breath away. Her body was
     fuller, with curves so voluptuous that his palms itched to run over them. Though her
     face had lost its youthful softness, the stronger lines gave her a regal beauty that
     would have a prince bending his knee to her.
    But the woman Moira had become was serious and cold. He missed the flashes of mischief
     and joy he used to see in her violet eyes.
    “Ye are welcome to stay the night,” Sean said, drawing Duncan’s attention from the
     empty doorway through which Moira had gone.
    By suggesting they were only invited to remain at his home for one night, the MacQuillan
     chieftain was perilously close to violating a Highlander’s almost sacred duty to welcome
     guests.
    “We don’t wish to impose upon your generous hospitality,” Duncan said.
    “If ye have any business to discuss, let’s hear it.” Sean glanced meaningfully toward
     the stairs and said, “With a wife as beautiful as mine, I’m sure ye understand why
     I want to get to bed.”
    Duncan’s anger, already burning bright, flared like a raging inferno at the thought
     of Sean touching Moira in all the ways that Duncan once had—and desperately wanted
     to again.
    Niall saved Duncan from punching Sean’s smug face by poking his elbow in Duncan’s
     side and saying, “Our chieftain asks that ye consider fostering your son at Dunscaith.”
    Connor had them make this request as a means of determining if the MacQuillan chieftain
     was still committed to the alliance.
    “We can take the lad with us now,” Duncan said, “unless ye think he’s too young to
     be parted from his mother.”
    “Ragnall is already fostered,” Sean said.
    “Who did ye send him to?” Duncan asked.
    Sean paused before answering, his eyes glinting with amusement. “I sent him to the
     MacLeod chieftain.”
    “MacLeod of Lewis?” Niall asked, referring to the branch of the MacLeods with whom
     the MacDonalds were on good terms.
    Sean shook his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “MacLeod of Harris
     and Dunvegan.”
    When Duncan wrapped his fist around the handle of his dirk, the MacQuillan chieftain’s
     guards took their places beside him.
    “Ye must have known what a grave insult it would be to our chieftain to send his only
     nephew to foster with his worst enemy,” Duncan said. “Did Moira agree to this?”
    “Ye seem overly concerned about my wife’s opinion.” Sean narrowed his eyes at Duncan,
     examining him as if he were seeing him for the first time. Then his eyes suddenly
     widened, and his face flushed a dark red.
    Duncan smiled because he thought Sean was going to give him the fight he longed for. One move, and my fist will be in your face.
    “We’ll bid ye good night and farewell,” Niall said, grabbing Duncan’s arm. “We’ll
     be gone in the morning.”

Chapter 9
    M oira!”
    The hair on the back of Moira’s neck stood up as her husband’s voice thundered up
     the stairs and echoed off the stone walls. Before she could prepare herself, the door
     crashed open. Sean stomped into the bedchamber and slammed the door behind him.
    “What is troubling ye, dear?” She attempted to make her voice calm, but it came out
     high and thin.
    “Don’t ye play games with me!” Sean shouted. “I know what ye did.”
    Moira took an involuntary step back as he came toward her. “I don’t know what ye mean,
     Sean.”
    “Ye pretended ye were an innocent virgin while ye carried that man’s child! Ye whore!”
    He backhanded her across the face so hard that Moira staggered backward and fell against
     the side of the bed. She grabbed the bedpost and struggled to keep her feet. In the
     last week, she had learned that there was nothing worse than to fall to the ground
     and try to protect her head from kicks. Her ribs had not healed from the last