The Red Drifter of the Sea (Pirates of the Isles #3) - Celeste Barclay Page 0,80

make her more acceptable. The O’Doyles were large landowners, but Moira doubted anyone would know the names of the ladies in the chieftain’s family.

“And you be headed to Wicklow,” The woman repeated Moira’s earlier statement.

“Aye. My family was going to visit extended relatives in Wicklow.”

“And they would have been?”

Moira wanted to stomp her foot just as her horse did as the animal grew anxious standing around. Moira was certain the gelding was still in pain, even if he’d grown quiet. She forced herself not to snap at the nosy old biddy.

“The O Tuathaills.” The O’Tooles were a powerful clan in Wicklow and Kildare, so she knew the name held weight. She prayed the village lay just far enough from Wicklow that the residents wouldn’t be familiar with the O’Toole chieftain and his family. “If you don’t mind, I’d like the blacksmith or farrier to look at my horse. A bee stung it a while back.”

“Looks fine to me,” came the quick response.

Moira bit her tongue against asking the woman if she was blind or daft. The welt on the horse’s face near its eye was noticeable and troubling. “All the same, if you have a blacksmith or a farrier, I would like them to have a look.”

“And what do you think a man who makes horseshoes or a man who fits horseshoes knows about bee stings?” The woman demanded.

“They know horses,” Moira responded with a shrug. She’d indulged the woman long enough and made to step around her.

“What you need is the healer,” the woman responded.

“And who is that?”

“Me.”

Moira tried not to wince. All she wanted to do was escape the overly inquisitive crone, and yet now, she would have to ask her for a poultice for a horse that wasn’t even hers. She’d hoped to find a man who would likely grunt and bark instructions for some medicinal that he would never help her find. She would have her solution without paying a coin. The woman would surely expect remuneration.

“I’m afraid I have no coin with which to pay you,” Moira admitted, but realized her mistake the moment the words came out of her mouth. The woman’s scornful look told her she assumed Moira intended to pay the blacksmith or farrier with something other than coin. She clarified, “I had hoped the blacksmith or farrier could point me in the right direction, and I could find the medicinal my horse needs.”

“Of course. A God-fearing lass such as yourself would never offer herself.” As the old woman observed her, Moira wanted to roar with laughter.

If only you knew how I offered myself to a pirate captain. And I haven’t been remorseful since.

“Can you sew?”

Moira’s brow furrowed. “Yes.”

“Come with me. I have a mountain of mending to do, but my old eyes trouble me. You sew; I’ll treat your horse. I might even give a scrawny lass like you some meat to chew on.”

“That is most kind of you.” Moira forced the words out from between her lips. She scowled at the back of the woman’s head when the healer turned away from her. She smoothed her features as she drew closer to other people, aware that they would stare and judge.

Twenty-Five

Moira sat darning stockings while the healer hummed an out of key melody that made Moira’s head pound. Tuning the woman out as best she could, Moira’s mind drifted to Kyle as she stitched. Years of sewing made her efficient, and the task needed little of her attention.

If Wicklow was only a half day’s sail from where the O’Malleys attacked us, then Kyle would have made it to port before I fell asleep at the farmer’s. Did he go ashore last night or this morning to look for me? Was he disappointed when he didn’t find me? Does he know I couldn’t have made it there before him even without the hours in the cave? Where would he have gone after that? Too many questions with no answers.

Maybe he’s going back to fight the O’Malleys, assuming Dermot was searching for me instead of fighting. That bastard would run away from a battle. Maybe Kyle will finish what Dermot started. Searching for me this morning and sailing back to fight Dermot or even looking for me would have filled the day while I’ve been riding with no sense of direction. When he doesn’t find me with Dermot, will he give up? Has he sailed away for good? That’s assuming he cares.

Even if he isn’t in Wicklow tomorrow, I still have more