Where in the hell was his breakfast? He was starving, which worsened his already black mood. The servants were scurrying about like confused chickens, but no one was bringing him food.
Was this Ilysa's way of punishing him for shouting at her last night? Three days ago, he would have dismissed the notion, believing her incapable of spite. But after living in the same household for much of their lives, he'd discovered that he did not know her at all.
Anger pulsed through him, making his pounding headache worse.
He slammed his cup on the table. "Where is my breakfast?"
Everyone in the hall was giving him nervous, sideways looks. He never abused his authority by shouting over small matters like a spoiled prince. This too, he blamed on Ilysa. By God, she deserved a dire punishment. If only he could think of one. He could not give her additional work, for no one worked harder.
Finally, the serving women scurried in with what looked like last night's supper. Cold.
"Where's my porridge?" he asked one of them.
"I'm sorry, Chieftain," the lass said, her eyes wide as if she expected him to take a bite out of her. "We forgot to make it."
Forgot? He had porridge with his breakfast every single morning. Even in his goddamned dungeon, Ilysa had brought it to him.
"Just see that it doesn't happen again," he said, softening his voice with an effort because he did not want to send the lass into a dead faint.
Ilysa had let everything fall apart in the kitchen. Clearly, it did not pay to upset her.
After his miserable, cold breakfast, Connor went outside for some blessed fresh air. Nothing like spending time in a dank dungeon to make a man appreciate daylight. He walked along the side of the keep, drawing in deep breaths. As he was about to round the corner, he heard someone speak his name and paused.
"Where do ye suppose the chieftain was?" a woman asked.
He should have known the entire castle would be speculating about his absence.
"Ilysa's face went all pink when she told us he'd gone to 'a secret meeting,' and he didn't take his guard with him," a male voice responded. "I'd say that means he was visiting a lass."
"About time!" another man said, and this was followed by a round of bawdy laughter. "We'll have to stop calling him Saint Connor."
"Who's the lucky lass?" the woman asked.
The names of several women were raised and dismissed in turn.
"He wouldn't have to ask me twice," the woman said, which caused loud guffaws.
Connor rubbed his temples as he recognized the woman's voice as belonging to Fl貌raidh, a grandmother as round as a turnip.
"He's keeping it quiet," the second man said, "so I'd wager our Saint Connor is fooking another man's wife!"
It was time to put a stop to this. When Connor stepped around the corner, the three stared at him openmouthed.
"Since ye have time on your hands, you two will take night guard duty for a week," he said, pointing at the two warriors. Then he turned his glare on Fl貌raidh. "I'd better have hot porridge on my table tomorrow."
Connor spent the rest of the morning supervising the men's practice. Knocking his opponents to the ground for a few hours improved his mood considerably. He felt almost himself again by the time they went in for the midday meal.
The disaster of breakfast was repeated. Cold, tasteless food from the day before was served, and that was soon gone. He had enough troubles without facing them hungry.
Connor was tempted to give Ilysa the punishment she deserved after all: three days and nights in the hole of a dungeon. And no hot food, either. He took a long swallow of his drink and slammed his cup on the table. Even the ale had gone sour.
"Send Ilysa to my chamber," he ordered Lachlan, who happened to be standing by the door as he left the hall.
Connor paced his chamber, waiting. What in the hell was taking so long? Finally, there was a rap at his door. He turned, prepared to give Ilysa the berating of her life, but it was Lachlan.
"I couldn't find her," Lachlan said.
"Then look harder."
"Ilysa is not here."
"I suppose someone in one of the nearby cottages needed a healer." Connor hoped she had the sense not to go alone. "The moment she returns, I want to see her."
"Ilysa has gone from Trotternish," Lachlan said. "She sailed before dawn for Dunscaith Castle."
"No, that can't be." Connor stopped his pacing. "Ilysa couldn't sail a