The Sinner

“Your weapons,” one of the guards said to him in French.

As Alex unstrapped his claymore, he scanned the crowded hall. Sabine had mentioned in her letter that D’Arcy, a French nobleman Alex had fought with in France, was here with the French contingent. Since both D’Arcy and Sabine knew the regent well, he hoped to get advice from one of them before his audience.

“Those as well,” the guard said, pointing at the dirks that hung from Alex’s belt.

Alex removed them, since he had no choice if he wanted to go inside.

“Your name and your business?” one of the other guards demanded.

“I am Alexander MacDonald of Sleat.”

Before he could state his business, the guards began shouting. “Il est un MacDonald!” He is a MacDonald! “Un rebelle!” A rebel!

In an instant, two dozen guards surrounded him with their swords drawn.

O shluagh. Alex briefly considered fighting his way out, but killing a few of the regent’s guards inside the royal palace probably would not serve his clan well. Still, a man couldn’t be faulted for throwing a few punches.

From the guards’ excited shouts as they dragged him up the stairs, Alex gathered that they thought he was Alexander MacDonald of Dunivaig and the Glens, who was one of the rebel chieftains. Apparently they didn’t know that half the warriors in the Western Isles were named Alexander or Donald after former Lords of the Isles.

Alex suspected he would have his audience with the regent sooner than expected.

The guards led him through double doors into an elaborately decorated parlor—painted pink, no less. Inside, courtiers and ladies dressed in silks hovered around a man in an ornate chair who had the beard and shrewd blue eyes of a Stewart. So this must be John Stewart, who was the Duke of Albany, the current regent, and third in line to the throne after the two royal babes.

When the two guards holding Alex’s arms attempted to toss him onto the floor at the regent’s feet, Alex knocked their heads together and let them fall. He glared over his shoulder at the other guards before dropping to his knee.

“Your Grace,” Alex said in French. “Your men have mistaken me for a rebel leader because the fools don’t know one damned MacDonald clan from another.”

Albany raised his eyebrows. Whether it was in admiration for his perfect French or because he had called Albany’s guards fools, Alex didn’t much care.

“And which MacDonald are you?”

“I am Alexander MacDonald of Sleat,” Alex said. “And if ye don’t mind a bit of advice, I suggest ye replace your French guards with men who know who is your enemy and who is not.”

“That is no easy task,” Albany said, touching the fingertips of his hands together as he glared at Alex, “even for someone who can distinguish one MacDonald from another.”

Touché.

“You will forgive us our vigilance against traitors,” Albany bit out. “A group of MacIains just arrived to report that the rebels have laid siege to Mingary Castle and lain waste to all the surrounding lands.”

“My clan had no part in this attack,” Alex said.

“I would prefer to hear that from your chieftain.” Albany stood and began pacing in front of Alex. “I assume he is here with you in Edinburgh, as ordered?”

“I am our chieftain’s cousin,” Alex said. “I’ve come in his stead to assure you—”

“I am not assured.” The regent stopped pacing and fixed his piercing blue eyes on Alex. “I summoned your chieftain, not his cousin.”

“He would have come himself, but he was badly injured at the time he became chieftain and has not yet fully recovered,” Alex said, knowing that a partial truth was always more credible than a complete lie.

“Or he is laying siege to Mingary Castle with the other rebels.” Albany’s face was growing red. “I will not tolerate it! Make no mistake, the clans in the Western Isles will be brought to heel.”

“My clan has no dispute with either the Crown or the MacIains,” Alex said, wishing he had arrived before the news of this latest rebel attack.

“I need proof,” the regent said, his eyes narrow angry slits.

“If my clan were fighting, I would be with them.” Alex spread his arms out. “As ye can see, I’m here.”

“While your chieftain is at Mingary with three hundred warriors, raping and pillaging with the rest of these traitorous heathens,” Albany shouted.

“We don’t hold with rape,” Alex said, offended.

Being called traitorous heathens, however, didn’t bother him overmuch. A Highlander’s only true allegiance was to his clan, and though Highlanders were as good of Christians as anyone, they didn’t let that interfere with the old customs more than they had to.

“If your clan is not in league with the rebels, then I expect your chieftain to send warriors promptly to fight them.”

“He will as soon as he can spare the men,” Alex said. “For now, my chieftain must keep his warriors at home to protect our clan from the MacLeods, who have already stolen some of our lands, and from the pirates, who are raiding all up and down the Western Isles. In fact, Your Grace, we could use some assistance ourselves.”

Judging from the regent’s thunderous expression, he didn’t like Alex’s suggestion.

“Perhaps the MacDonalds of Sleat need a chieftain who is willing to fight for the Crown,” Albany snapped. “I’ve been told that Hugh MacDonald would do so if he were chieftain.”

Alex usually held his temper, but the regent’s veiled threat to support Hugh in a bid to take the chieftainship from Connor had it rising fast.

“We call him Hugh Dubh, Black Hugh, because of his black heart,” Alex said. “He is one of the pirates terrorizing innocent folk, and you’d be a fool to trust him.”

The courtiers observing their exchange gasped as one.

“I will use whoever and whatever I must to put down this rebellion.” Albany’s voice was soft now, but his fists were clenched so tight that his knuckles were white. “Tell me, does your chieftain have a son or a brother?”

“His brother is dead, and he has no son yet.” A prickle of unease began working it’s way up Alex’s spine.

“You are his closest kin?”

“I’m as close as any, after his sister in Ireland,” Alex said.

“Then we’ll have to make do with you for a hostage,” the regent said. “You shall be our guest at Edinburgh Castle until your chieftain commits his warriors to fighting the rebels.”

The urge to escape pulsed through Alex. In a flash, he knew how he would do it. He saw himself pulling his hidden blade and springing on the regent. With his dirk at Albany’s throat, he could use him to get out of the palace. From there, it would be easy to escape the city.

Alex was quick, and he was bold. He knew he could do it.

There was nothing he would hate more than to be locked in a confined space for months or years. He would rather fight a hundred battles, die a dozen ugly deaths.

And yet, a man must make the sacrifice that is needed, not the one he would choose for himself. If serving as the Crown’s hostage would buy Connor time for the clan, Alex must let them take him.

Albany waved his hand at the guards and shouted, “Seize him!”

CHAPTER 19

My, don’t ye look lovely,” Glynis’s aunt Peg said, clasping her hands together in front of her. “The gown fits ye like a glove.”

Glynis ran her hands over the soft wool. It felt strange to be wearing her mother’s clothes. Bessie, the slight, middle-aged maid, had found the trunk with her mother’s things in the attic.

“Ye are just her size,” Bessie said, as she fastened the last button at the back of Glynis’s neck. “And just as pretty.”

“My father always said how much I was like her.” And he never seemed to notice the look of irritation on her stepmother’s face when he said it.

For the first time, Glynis felt guilty, knowing how worried her father must be about her. They had always had a close bond, though their fights since she left Magnus had strained it badly.

“I’ll never understand what possessed my sister to run off and wed that wild Highlander,” Aunt Peg said, touching the back of her pudgy hand to her forehead.

“He was devilishly handsome,” the maid said in a voice too low for her aunt to hear.

Glynis did not believe that was the reason her mother had followed him across Scotland, though her father must have been handsome as a young chieftain.

“It was because he loved her so much,” Glynis said.

She felt a sting in her eye, thinking of her father’s daily visits to her mother’s grave. How many times had she spied on him there as a child and heard him having a discussion with his long-dead wife? If Glynis had grown up expecting to have love in her marriage, it was her father’s doing, however inadvertent.

“Love doesn’t put food on the table,” her aunt said. “Henry’s left his shop to take us on our errand, so we must not keep him waiting.”

Glynis had a hundred questions she wanted to ask about her mother, but her aunt had had little to say on the subject when she inquired earlier.

In far too short a time, Glynis found herself on the High Street again. The city was nothing like the soft, dreamy images she had of it. Her nursemaid, Old Molly, had told her stories about her parents falling in love here when her father was called to court. According to Old Molly, her father had been a lost man from the moment he first saw her mother on this very street. How had he noticed her in the midst of this chaos?

“Is it always like this?” Glynis asked. The constant noise of voices, carts, and clanking bells made her head throb.

“Aye,” her aunt said. “Exciting, isn’t it?”

“There’s no place like it, except for London,” her aunt’s husband said. Henry was a squat, bald-headed man who seemed as mild and pleasant as her aunt.

As Glynis followed them through the doorway of yet another shop, she had to turn sideways to avoid a woman carrying a large basket. They had visited half a dozen shops, and her aunt and uncle had not purchased anything.

“What is it you’re looking for?” Whatever it was, Glynis hoped they found it soon.

Glynis felt an elbow in her side and looked down to find her aunt beaming up at her with a smile so big that her eyes nearly closed above her plump cheeks.

“A husband,” her aunt whispered in a giddy voice. “Henry says two of the unmarried merchants are interested in ye already—and we’ve only been out an hour!”

* * *

Blackness settled over Alex’s soul as the door clanked shut behind him. In the dim torchlight coming through the door’s iron grate, he took in his cell. He was in the undercroft that carried the weight of the castle and rested on the black rock on which it was built.

The curved ceiling was too low for him to stand, so he sat on the uneven rock floor and held his head in his hands. His freedom was everything to him. Sailing, fighting, swiving. That was his life. His cell didn’t even have a window.

He had known it might come to this when he agreed to come to court for Connor, but he hadn’t let himself think about it. Most hostages were kept in better quarters—apparently he’d made a poor impression on the regent.

As the hours ticked by, Alex wondered how he would keep his sanity in the months to come. He felt the weight of the tons of stone above him.

He heard muffled footsteps and assumed they were bringing him his first meal. But when a guard with missing teeth unlocked the iron grate to his cell, he was empty-handed.

“Ye have friends in high places,” the guard said. “Follow me.”

Alex leaped to his feet and nearly banged his head in his hurry to get out. Feeling like a rat, he followed the guard through the tunnel-like corridor between the cells. Impatience thrummed through his muscles as the guard fumbled with the keys at the last door. Finally, it opened, and Alex stepped out into a burst of sunshine that was like entering Heaven.

A tall, dark-haired Frenchman with a white scarf around his neck was waiting there. By the saints, it was the White Knight, Antoine D’Arcy, Sieur de la Bastie.

“You are free, Alexander,” D’Arcy said.

Alex didn’t quite believe it until D’Arcy signaled to a man standing behind him, who came forward to hand Alex his claymore and his dirks.

“God bless ye, D’Arcy,” Alex said, as he strapped on his claymore. “Ye can consider the debt ye owe me repaid.”

“Saving a man from prison is not equal to saving a man’s life,” D’Arcy said.

“It is to me,” Alex said and squeezed D’Arcy’s shoulder. “How did ye do it?”

“It was fortunate I was in the hall and saw the guards take you,” D’Arcy said, as they started walking in the direction of the castle gate. “I told the regent that you and your chieftain had fought the English with us in France, and so you could not be traitors.”

Why fighting the English should ensure their loyalty to the Scottish Crown was something of a mystery to Alex, but he didn’t say so. “The regent accepted that?”

“I told him I would defend your honor to the death.”

Despite all he’d been through, Alex had to fight a smile. D’Arcy lived for the old knightly virtues that seemed naïve to a Highlander.

“I suspect that your being rich, titled, and famous throughout France for your fighting skills may have been persuasive as well,” Alex said.

“Of course,” D’Arcy said without the slightest bit of humor.

D’Arcy had horses waiting for them in the castle’s lower courtyard next to the massive stone gatehouse. As Alex rode through the gate, he eyed the iron spikes of the raised portcullis above his head. He blew out his breath when he reached the other side.

“Albany asked ye to come to Scotland?” Alex asked.

“He needed help persuading the queen and her English faction to give up the regency,” D’Arcy said. “We had to lay siege to Stirling Castle before she would hand over the royal children.”

They continued talking royal politics as they rode down the hill. Even the city air smelled good to Alex.

“What will the queen and her new husband do now?” Alex asked.

The handsome Douglas chieftain had wormed his way into the queen’s bed in a bid for power almost before the king’s body was cold.

“The queen fled to England to her brother, King Henry VIII, but her husband…,” D’Arcy paused, lifting an eyebrow, “… accompanied her as far as the border and turned around.”

Alex laughed. “There’s true love for ye. I suppose the Douglas was afraid of being labeled a traitor and losing his lands.”

“I’m glad your clan is not part of this rebellion,” D’Arcy said. “I’d rather not face you and your cousins and that big fellow Duncan in battle.”

Alex grinned, recalling the last time they had practiced together. It had been a hard fight, but it had ended with D’Arcy on his back and the point of Alex’s blade at his throat. To his credit, D’Arcy had conceded with his usual grace.

“You’ll find that rebellions are like mud in the Highlands,” Alex said. “Everywhere ye step, more squishes through your toes.”

“Albany is intent on putting an end to them,” D’Arcy said. “He and the Council have appointed Colin Campbell, the Earl of Argyll, as Protector of the Western Isles, and they’ve given him authority to put down the rebellion ‘by sword and by fire.’”

“Ach, ’tis dangerous to give that much power to the Campbells,” Alex said.

“Albany is aware of the risk,” D’Arcy said. “But as the Scottish Crown has no army of its own, he must rely on chieftains who can command large numbers of men to enforce the Crown’s authority. In this case, that is Colin Campbell.”

Alex had come to Edinburgh to appease the Crown, but it was the Campbell chieftain who now wielded immediate power over the clans in the Western Isles. Fortunately, the Campbell chieftain owed Alex a favor for rescuing his sister. He hoped he could use it to benefit his clan.

“Albany has charged me with delivering the decree to the Campbell chieftain,” D’Arcy said. “If you are leaving for your home, you must travel with me as far as Inveraray Castle. It would be like old times.”

“I’m leaving as soon as I collect my horses,” Alex said. “But I’ll wait for ye outside the city.”

“I can’t let you go yet,” D’Arcy said. “Sabine de Savoisy insisted I bring you back to the palace to see her.”

Alex groaned. He had forgotten all about Sabine.

CHAPTER 20

The guards at the door to the palace looked as if they would like to gut Alex, but they let him through with D’Arcy. Once they were inside, D’Arcy sent a message for Sabine with one of the servants.

“Ah, the exquisite Sabine de Savoisy has arrived,” D’Arcy said a short time later.

Alex turned in time to see her descending the wide staircase. All the men in the hall seemed to be watching her as she paused on the stairs to survey the room. When her eyes met Alex’s, she gave him a slight nod.

“Weren’t you and she once… ,” D’Arcy said.

“A very long time ago,” Alex said.

“If you wish to ride to Inveraray with me and my men, meet us at noon tomorrow outside the palace gates,” D’Arcy said. “Of course, I won’t blame you if you decide to stay longer to visit with Sabine.”

Alex bid D’Arcy farewell and crossed the hall to greet Sabine.

“You’re as lovely as ever,” he said, as he brought her hand to his lips.

Sabine was a few years older than Alex, so she must be about thirty now. The planes of her face were sharper, giving her a starker, more austere beauty. Her hair was drawn up into a high, elaborate headdress that drew the eye to the graceful line of her neck.

“I am delighted you could visit me at last.” As she took his arm, she added in a low voice, “I’ll take you to a room where we can be alone.”

Her skirts rustled and shimmered as they crossed the crowded room. When she led him through a low doorway, up a back stairway, and into a chamber with a large canopied bed in the center, Alex wondered what kind of fool’s errand he was on. Surely Sabine could not have asked him to travel all this way to roll around on a bed for an hour or two.

When she settled on the settee by the windows, Alex sighed with relief and took the chair opposite her.

“You look well, Alexander,” she said with a bright smile.

He held her gaze and let the silence grow between them while he waited for her to state her purpose.

“Does your clan support the faction that favors France, or do you favor ties with those dreadful Englishmen?”

“I fear we Highlanders have been too occupied cutting each other’s throats to give the question our full consideration,” Alex said.

Sabine leaned her head back, revealing her ivory throat, and gave a light, musical laugh. There were those who would be surprised to know it was Sabine’s laugh, and not her lush body, that had first drawn him to her.

“Did ye ask me to travel across the breadth of Scotland—and into Lowlander territory, no less—to discuss politics with ye?”

“You used to be better at taking your time with … the preliminaries,” she said, her lips curved in amusement.

“Sorry, but your friend Albany had me tossed into a prison cell today.”

“I heard you made a memorable entrance.” She laughed again, but this time it was a nervous laugh. “You’re the talk of the palace.”

“What is this gift ye have for me?” he asked.

She dropped her gaze and ran her fingers along the edge of the settee. This hesitancy was unlike the Sabine who had taken hold of a young Highlander and let him know in no uncertain terms what she wanted of him. Alex leaned back and waited her out.

“I had a child,” she said.

“Congratulations.” Alex shrugged. “That must have pleased your husband at his advanced age.” Her husband was eighty if he was a day.

“Hardly, since the child could not possibly have been his,” she said, giving Alex a piercing look. “It was fortunate for me that my husband died before my pregnancy showed.”

A swell of unease settled in Alex’s gut. “When did ye have this child?”

She lifted her gaze to the ceiling and touched a finger to her powdered cheek. “Let me try to remember,” she said with a sharp edge to her voice. “Oh yes, the child was born precisely eight and a half months after we ended our affair.”

Surely she was not suggesting that the child was his? What puzzled him was why she would tell him this lie.

“Our affair began and ended shortly after I arrived in France,” he said, cocking his eyebrow at her. “But I was in France for five more years. If the child was mine, a woman as resourceful as you could have gotten word to me.”

“I had no reason to tell you,” she said. “I didn’t want anyone to know, and mourning the death of my husband gave me the excuse to retire from society for a few months.”

That would explain why he had never heard of Sabine having a child. It did not mean, however, that the child was his.

“Why not tell me, if ye believed the child could be mine?” he asked.

“I feared you would make a fuss,” she said, turning her head to gaze out the window.

Alex sat up straight. “A fuss? A man doesn’t make a fuss.”

“No matter how devil-may-care you are about women,” she said in a thin voice, “I understand that you Highlanders have… unusually strong feelings about blood relationships.”

“No more games, Sabine.” Alex leaned forward and took hold of her arms. “If there truly is a child, what makes ye think it’s mine? And I won’t believe I was your only lover.”

“You were my only lover at the time I conceived,” she said, glaring at him.

“Or the only one ye think is gullible enough to believe the child is his.”

“If you recall,” she said, her voice as sharp as a razor, “we did not leave my house for a fortnight. Resourceful as I am, it would not have been possible for me to carry on another affair at the same time.”

Never left her house? Ach, they rarely left her bed—except to make love on the floor or against the wall. He recalled how her well-trained servants left trays of food and drink outside the bedchamber door. Still, Sabine could easily lie about when the child was conceived.

“You will know the child is yours when you see it,” she said, and folded her hands in her lap.

She must think he would accept any fair-haired child as his own. And yet, if the child was his, he had cause to be furious with her.

“Ye believed the child was mine all along,” he said, raising his voice, “and ye didn’t tell me?”

“I wanted to keep the child’s existence a secret.”

And Alex wanted to shake Sabine until her teeth rattled. He made himself take a deep breath before he spoke again. “So why tell me now?”

“I’ve run out of money.” She looked up at him from under her lashes. “So I must marry again.”

Alex’s heart sank to his feet with a thud. Did she want him to claim her child and marry her? He could not imagine a worse wife. Why, Sabine was exactly like him.

“I’m not a poor man,” he said, “but I’m no a rich one, either.”

Sabine’s expression clouded for a moment, and then she tilted her head back in a genuine laugh. “Alex, I’m not suggesting we marry!” She lifted her hand toward the window and said, “Can you see me living in this wilderness?”

If she considered Edinburgh a wilderness, then going to Skye would seem to her like crossing the River Styx to Hades.

“Mon dieu!” She wiped the corners of her eyes with a lace handkerchief, still shaking with laughter. “Finding a wealthy man was not difficult. In fact, I’m already betrothed.”

Another man would raise his child? Alex got up and started pacing the room.

“The problem is that I cannot take the chance that my betrothed will discover I had a child outside of my marriage.” She cleared her throat. “He is generous to a fault, but his steward takes his duties far too seriously. Why, the wretch tracks every penny!”

“What has this to do with me?” Alex asked.

“I fear that if I continue to support the child, my secret will be discovered.” She paused and licked her lips. “So I brought the child here.”

“The child is here?” Alex thought he must have heard wrong.

“Not here at the palace, of course.” Sabine fanned herself with her hand. “But, yes, she is here in Edinburgh. I thought it wise to speak alone with you first, before you see her.”

“She?” Good God, was Sabine telling him this child was a girl?

“I’m told she is an… unusual… child,” Sabine said.

“You’re told?”

“You can’t believe that the child has been living with me?” Sabine rolled her eyes as if she found him desperately slow-witted.

“Of course not,” he said. “Having a child about would be too inconvenient.”

“Don’t be foolish,” she snapped, her expression suddenly angry. “Men can raise their bastard children if they wish, but for a woman it would be a catastrophe.”

Alex had to acknowledge that there was some truth to that, at least in France.

“So where has your daughter been living?” he asked.

Sabine shrugged one elegant shoulder. “With an elderly couple in the country.”

What did Sabine want? Was it money? Did she think a wee visit with the child was necessary to convince him to pay?

“Tell me why ye went to the trouble of bringing the child here,” he said.

“Why indeed!” Her hand fluttered to her chest. “It was a risk, but it would have been a greater risk to keep her in France.”

It finally dawned on him that Sabine wanted him to take the child. He began pacing the small parlor again, feeling like a trapped animal.

“Ye say this child is a girl?” He could hear the desperation in his voice.

“Why yes, she is,” Sabine said, cool as could be.

“And now, after all this time,” he said, flinging his arms out wide, “ye want to give her away, like some garment you’ve grown tired of?”

“Hardly that.”

Alex felt as if he’d been tossed overboard in a rough sea, and the waves were too high for him to see which way was the shore.

“You must take her, Alexander.”

He ran his hands through his hair as he walked back and forth. “What is the child’s name?”

“I believe,” she said, shifting her gaze to the side, “that the couple she lived with called her Claire.”

“Christ above, Sabine, ye didn’t even give the child a name?” He was incensed, but he may as well be angry with a cuckoo bird for being a bad mother. Sabine was who she was.

Alex felt sorry for the child, having a mother with so little regard for her. While his own parents fought like hungry dogs, he never doubted that they cared for him. They simply cared more about making each other miserable.

“I have provided for her from birth,” Sabine said. “Now you must take her.”

He heard Teàrlag’s voice in his head: Three women will ask for your help, and ye must give it. No, not this.

“What would I do with a wee girl?” he demanded, raising his hands in the air. The notion was ridiculous.

“You must know someone who could care for her,” Sabine said, as if she were talking about a pet dog. “I heard your cousin Ian has wed. Perhaps he could take her? If you’ve no one else, you can always put her in a convent.”

“A convent?” he said, raising his voice. “The child is what—five, six years old?”

Sabine got to her feet and smoothed her gown. “Before you decide to abandon her—”

“Me abandon her?”

“I suggest you meet your daughter,” Sabine finished, ignoring his interruption.

His daughter. Could it be true that he had a daughter?

“My ship leaves in two days.” Sabine pulled a slip of paper out of her sleeve and handed it to him. “Meet me at this address at dawn, and I’ll take you to her.”

Alex heard the rustle of Sabine’s silk skirts as she walked to the door, but he did not look up from the folded paper clenched in his hand.

“One last thing, Alexander,” she said. “Albany intends to have you arrested as soon as D’Arcy leaves the city.”

CHAPTER 21

Skrit scrit, scrit. Claire drew her feet in as the mouse crossed the floor. It was bigger and bolder than the mice in the fields at home.

The old woman had not brought food yet today, so she and her doll were hungry. Poor Marie was dirty as well. If Grandmère was here, she would scold Claire for not taking better care of her doll. Grandpère had made Marie specially for his little girl from straw and rope, and then Grandmère had sewn her pretty gown from scraps.

The girl pressed her nose against Marie’s soft belly and sniffed, but the smell of Grandmère and Grandpère had been gone for a long, long time.

CHAPTER 22

When Glynis came down for supper, a man dressed in a priest’s robes was already sitting at the head of the table. He looked at her with gray eyes that were the same color and shape as her own, but they were as cold as a frozen pond.

“She does look like our former sister,” the priest said in a flat tone.

“Ye are my uncle?” Glynis asked.

After growing up in a family in which she looked like no one else, Glynis had been disappointed to see no resemblance between herself and her aunt. She could see herself in this tall, gaunt priest—but she did not like what she saw.

“Yes, I am Father Thomas,” he said, as if being himself was a great responsibility. “You may sit.”

Glynis’s backside was barely on the bench before her uncle started the prayer. He recited it rapidly with no inflection, giving Glynis the impression that his mind was elsewhere. When he finished the prayer, he helped himself to the choicest piece of meat on the tray and began eating before the rest of them had any.

“I hope you have a more obedient nature than your mother did,” he said, looking at her with a grim expression. “I pray you will not bring more shame upon our family.”

He did not expect an answer, and Glynis had to bite her tongue to prevent herself from giving him one he was sure not to like.

Glynis’s lively aunt Peg and Henry seemed to wilt in the priest’s presence, and the supper conversation was stilted. Midway through the meal, the priest put away his eating knife.

“Gavin Douglas has been imprisoned,” he announced.

Aunt Peg gasped, and Henry went pale.

“How can that be?” Henry asked. “He was supposed to become the Archbishop of St. Andrews.”

“The queen nominated him, and she is no longer regent,” Father Thomas hissed. “Now the Douglases are out of favor.”

“What does this mean?” Peg asked in a hesitant voice.

“It means, dear sister,” Father Thomas said, turning his venomous eyes on her, “that I will not be going to St. Andrews with Gavin Douglas.”

Glynis was tempted to suggest that Father Thomas should be grateful he was not following this Gavin Douglas to prison.

“What in the name of God possessed Gavin to advise his nephew to marry the queen?” Father Thomas raised his hands as he spoke, as if beseeching Heaven. “As her lover, Archibald Douglas had the queen in his pocket. And the council could do nothing because the king’s will provided that the queen should be regent so long as she did not remarry.”

Glynis dropped her gaze to the food growing cold in front of her.

“Damn him to hell,” Father Thomas said. “Gavin should have stuck to his poetry.”

“He is a poet?” Glynis asked, hoping to divert Father Thomas to a topic less upsetting to him.

“Gavin Douglas is famous for his own poetry as well as for his translations of ancient poems,” Father Thomas said. “A useless activity, of course, but one that would not have cost him a bishopric.”

“Useless?” Glynis said. “We Highlanders hold our poets in high esteem.”

From the way Father Thomas’s eyebrows shot up, he was not accustomed to disagreement.

“Why has the poor man been imprisoned?” Glynis asked, her curiosity overtaking her caution, as it often did.

“He is accused of attempting to buy the bishopric from the Pope.” Father Thomas shrugged one bony shoulder. “If Albany’s faction did not suspect Gavin had also advised the queen to flee to England with the Scottish heir, no one would care if he bought it.”

Glynis cleared her throat. “Are ye aware, Uncle, of what this new regent’s attitude is toward the Highland clans?”

“Of course I am,” he snapped. “’Tis fortunate that you escaped that God-forsaken place, for Albany has given the Campbells the crown’s blessing to destroy this Highland rebellion ‘by sword and by fire.’”

Glynis put her hand to her throat, fearing for her family back home. “What does that mean?”

“It means they have a free hand to lay waste to the rebels’ lands and murder anyone who stands in their way, including women and children,” Father Thomas said, “When the rebels submit, as they will, the Campbells are to collect the rebel chieftains’ eldest sons as hostages to assure their father’s good behavior.”

“My brother is only four years old.” Glynis felt sick to her stomach.

“Then it may just be possible to teach him civilized ways.”

If her father knew of this plan, surely he would see sense and leave the rebellion. Before Glynis could question Father Thomas further, he got to his feet.

“I must pursue my advancement independent of Gavin Douglas now,” he said, fixing his hard gaze on Henry. “It will be costly.”

Father Thomas did not wait for a response. Without so much as a fare-thee-well, he left the room with long-legged strides.

“Thomas is an important man in the church,” Peg said when he had gone, as if that should excuse his rudeness.

“Eat up,” Henry said to Glynis, as he stuffed an apple tart in his mouth. “A man likes a woman with some flesh on her bones.”

Glynis could not recover her good humor as quickly as her Aunt Peg and Henry, but she managed a weak smile and took a bite. The apples were not as tart as at home. Nothing tasted good here.

“What do ye think about James the Baker?” Henry said, looking at her aunt. “He’s a fine man. Wouldn’t he make our bonny niece a good husband?”

Glynis choked on the bite of dry tart caught in her throat. “Thank ye for your concern,” she said when she could speak, “but I don’t wish to marry again.”

“Don’t wish to marry?” Henry said, then repeated it more loudly: “Don’t wish to marry?”

When Glynis shook her head, Henry and her aunt exchanged startled glances.

“James is a steady man with a good future before him.” Her aunt reached across the narrow table and patted her hand. “It can’t hurt to meet him.”

“Thank ye kindly,” Glynis said. “But meeting the man will no change my mind.”

Bessie came in then and stooped to speak to Henry in a low voice.

“James is here,” Henry said, and gave Glynis a wide smile. “Make yourself pretty while I fetch him.”

Two hours later, Glynis was so bored she wanted to stab herself in the eye. James was easily the most tedious man she had met in her life. Alas, he was unattractive as well.

“Do ye never leave the city?” she asked after listening to him drone on about meetings of his guild. “Surely ye must long to take a sail or a walk in the meadows now and again?”

“There are pirates roaming the seas!” Poor James looked genuinely alarmed. “Besides, the sea makes me sick as a dog.”

The sea made him ill?

A wave of homesickness swept over Glynis, leaving a sense of hopelessness in its wake. She had always lived on the sea and had no notion how much she would miss it. Even when she was married to that despicable Magnus, she could hear the sea from her window and walk on the shore every day.

Glynis’s attention was brought back to the present by the sudden damp heat of a heavy hand on her thigh.

“Ye are a pretty thing,” James said, leaning close enough for her to see the spittle on his chin. “And I believe I’m just the man to tame a wild Highland lass.”

CHAPTER 23

Alex walked the city streets in the bleak hours before dawn. Occasionally, women of the night called out to him from doorways. No one else was out at this hour save for thieves and groups of drunken young men looking for a fight. But with his claymore strapped to his back and dirks hanging from his belt in plain sight, no one gave Alex trouble.

After tossing and turning on the too-small bed at the tavern, Alex had given up on sleep. He wished he could talk with Glynis about the problem of this wee girl Sabine claimed was his daughter. Glynis would give him honest advice. But he could not very well wake up her relatives’ household by pounding on their door in the middle of the night.

When the first streaks of dawn speared through the sky, he unfolded the paper that Sabine had given him and read the directions written there. What in the hell was wrong with Sabine keeping the child in the most wretched part of the city?

Alex turned down a close and held his plaid over his mouth and nose as he walked farther and farther down the hill. He was nearly to the sewage-filled loch before he finally reached the place. He pounded on the door with murder running through his veins.

A woman opened the door just wide enough for him to see her greasy hair and careworn face. Her eyes grew wide as she took him in.

“Alexander MacDonald?” she asked in a hoarse voice.

“Aye.”

When the woman opened the door wider, Alex ducked his head and stepped inside. He found himself in a low-ceilinged room lit by a single, smoky lamp. There was no one in it but the two of them.

“Where is the Countess?” he asked, though he had realized as he walked down the close that Sabine would never ruin her delicate slippers coming to this desperate place.

“I never saw the lady,” the woman said. “Her maid said ye would be the one to pay me.”

One brings deceit.

“Their ship has sailed?” Alex asked, though he already knew it had.

The woman nodded. “Aye, at dawn.”

“And the child?”

“I have her, but ye must pay me first.”

Sabine had known that, regardless of whether the girl was his or not, Alex would not be able to leave a child in this squalid place with no one to care for her. At least, he hoped Sabine had known that when she abandoned her daughter.

A ragged strip of cloth hung over the doorway to a connecting room, and he suspected the child was there. Though Alex could have fetched her himself, the woman deserved her pay. He dropped the coins into her waiting palm.

His heart raced as the woman disappeared into the blackness behind the curtain. What in God’s name was wrong with him? He was fearless sailing into a squall or charging into battle, and yet an unfamiliar frisson of terror traveled up his knees over meeting a wee bairn.

Before he had time to prepare himself, the woman flipped back the cloth and reentered the room leading a child by the hand. Sabine’s gift to him.

Alex had never lacked for words in his life, but he was too stunned to speak. Looking at the child, he had the oddest sensation that he was seeing a feminine version of himself as a wee lad. Her hair was the same white-blond his had been as a bairn, and she was long-legged as a newborn colt.

“She’s a strange child,” the woman said. “Can’t speak a word.”

“Maybe she has nothing to say to ye.” Alex noticed how dirty the child was, and a horrible thought occurred to him. “How long have ye kept her here?”

“Since she was brought to me a couple of months ago,” the woman said. “As ye can see, I’ve taken good care of her.”

God have mercy. The child must have been here since Sabine arrived in Edinburgh. That had probably sucked the words right out of the poor wee thing. Alex remembered how desperate he had felt in that cell after just a couple of hours, and he could have wept for the child.

Alex dropped to his knee to have a closer look at her. Eyes the same shade of green met his. Though her face was heart-shaped, rather than square-jawed like his, she had a delicate version of his straight nose and his generous mouth with its full bottom lip.

Alex heard the woman leave, but he did not take his eyes off the child. He had a strange compulsion to touch her. He smiled at her as he cupped the wee lass’s cheek—and felt a surge of relief when she did not flinch. She had the soft skin of a baby. His heart hurt as he thought of her closed up in this dark, wretched place for so long.

“I’m told your name is Claire,” he said, speaking to her in French.

She nodded. While the child might be mute, she was not deaf.

“Do ye know what your name means?” he asked.

She shook her head a fraction.

“Bright and shining. Radiant,” he said, fanning his fingers out. For once he was grateful for the Latin that had been forced upon him in university. “In Gaelic, the language where I come from, we say Sorcha.”

Claire was a lovely name, but it sounded fragile to his ear.

“Sorcha is a powerful name,” he said. “Would it be all right if that is what I call ye?”

Her gaze never faltered as she paused to consider this and then gave him a slow nod.

“Sorcha, are ye ready to leave this foul-smelling place and come on an adventure with me?”

The girl nodded again. She was a brave lass, of course.

“We have a long journey ahead of us,” he said. “I’m taking ye home to Skye.”

That was as far as his plans went. He had no notion what he would do with her once he got her there.

“Skye is an island surrounded by sea,” he said, stretching his arms out. “And it’s as beautiful as Heaven.”

She put her thumb in her mouth, but he could tell she was listening hard.

When he picked her up, he was unprepared for the swell of emotion that filled his chest at holding his wee daughter for the first time. Her long hair fell in tangles over his arm as she tilted her head back to examine him.

“If ye are wondering who I am,” he said, touching his finger to her wee nose. “I’m your father, lass.”

CHAPTER 24

A woman could do worse than James,” Glynis’s aunt said over breakfast. “He is a steady man, and you’d never need to fret about other women with him.”

That was for certain. “I couldn’t marry a man who hates the sea,” Glynis said, since they would not hear that she did not wish to marry at all. “We would never get along.”

Henry looked at her as if she were mad. “What has one got to do with the other?”

A vision of Alex jumping over a log brandishing his claymore in one hand and throwing his dirk with the other came to her. Even if she had wanted a husband, how could she let one of these pitiful men touch her after Alex?

“If ye don’t like James, what about Tim the Silversmith?” her aunt asked. “Ye must remember him—his was the third shop we visited yesterday.”

Unfortunately, she remembered the silversmith all too clearly.

“He’s shorter than I am.” It was the least of Glynis’s objections, but the first that burst out of her mouth.

“’Tis a shame ye are so tall,” Henry said, shaking his head as if it were a great misfortune. “But I don’t believe Tim minded.”

“He’s pale as a fish’s belly,” Glynis said. “And he has bad breath.”

“What is important is that he could support ye very well,” her aunt said.

Glynis was a chieftain’s daughter, and her father would provide a significant tochar, or dowry, if she should marry again. But she was becoming suspicious about the state of her Edinburgh relatives’ finances and decided not to enlighten them.

“There are hundreds of merchants in our grand city.” Henry got to his feet and stretched his stubby arms. “We’re bound to find one to your liking.”

“We are delighted to have ye visit us,” her aunt said after Henry left. “But what is your plan, child, if ye don’t intend to marry?”

Glynis had intended to be the spinster relative who grew old in the attic.

“Surely ye didn’t come here expecting to live with us forever?” her aunt asked, pinching her brows together.

Glynis sat up straight. In the Highlands, hospitality was a sacred duty. It was unthinkable to toss out any guest, let alone one who was also a close relation. One suffered with them as long as one had to.

“I apologize,” Glynis said, feeling her face go hot. “I did not realize I would be imposing.”

“All we want is for ye to be happy, but for that, a woman needs a husband,” her aunt said, giving her a sweet smile. “And the wealthier he is, the happier you’ll be.”

“Are ye expecting this wealthy husband to help support Father Thomas’s ambitions?” Glynis asked.

“That would be an added blessing, of course.” Her aunt patted her hand. “We don’t want to go to the moneylenders again.”

* * *

The bright sun hurt Claire’s eyes, but it felt good on her face. She could not remember the last time she had been outside. She was high above the people on the street, sitting on the shoulders of the man with the laughing eyes.

S-o-r-ch-a. She practiced the name the man had given her in her head. Grandmère had only called her Claire when she was angry—her real name was ma chère. But perhaps she was wrong. When Grandmère first gave her the doll, she had called Marie by different names until she had found the right one.

The man spoke to her in words that were familiar, and sometimes she tried to understand what he was saying. But she had grown accustomed to listening for other things in voices. She knew from the rise in the old woman’s voice when she was going to slap her.

But the man’s big, deep voice made her happy.

* * *

Alex carried the child on his shoulders to keep people from stepping on the wee thing.

“Ye see that water in the distance?” he asked, turning around and pointing. “That’s the Firth, where the boat ye came on sailed into Edinburgh. Did ye like sailing?”

When he looked up her, she nodded. Since the child needed to learn Gaelic, he said everything to her first in French and then in Gaelic.

“We are going to say good-bye to a friend of mine before we leave,” he said, starting up the hill again. “It won’t take long.”

As anxious as he was to leave the city, he needed to see that Glynis was happily settled with her aunt. At least that was what he was telling himself.

When they reached the house, he set Sorcha on her feet. It seemed much longer than a day since he had stood before this red door with Glynis. At his knock, the same maid as yesterday answered it.

“I’ve come to speak to Mistress Glyn—”

He stopped when he saw Glynis descending the stair, looking as fresh as a spring breeze in a pale green gown. The only sign of surprise she showed at seeing him with a wee girl holding his hand was a slight widening of her eyes.

“Glynis, this is my daughter.”

Alex waited for her to call him a philanderer, a sinner, or worse.

“I can see that she is,” Glynis said with a light in her eyes. She leaned down with a warm smile and touched Sorcha’s shoulder. “What’s your name, child?”

“She doesn’t speak,” he said.

“She has no Gaelic?” Glynis asked, looking up at him.

“Her mother was French, so she has no Gaelic,” he said. “But what I meant is that she has not yet said a word of any kind.”

“Where is her mother?” Glynis asked in a soft voice.

“On her way back to France.”

Glynis met his gaze, and he was grateful she asked for no further explanation.

“I thought perhaps your family here might know of a good woman I could hire to look after my daughter on the journey home,” he said. “I haven’t the slightest notion how to take care of a bairn—especially a lass.”

“I could do it,” Glynis said in a rush.

Alex stared at her, wondering if he had heard her correctly.

“I have three younger sisters, so I know how,” she said, her voice unnaturally high. “And ye wouldn’t have to pay me.”

It was one shock too many before breakfast. “What are ye saying? Have pity on a hungry man and speak plainly.”

“I feel foolish after all the trouble I put ye to bringing me all the way here to Edinburgh,” she said.

“I enjoyed it quite thoroughly,” he said, causing her to blush. “But ye just arrived. Why would ye be wanting to go back so soon?”

“I didn’t know what it would be like here, with all the people and the noise and so far from the sea,” she said, worrying the skirt of her gown in her hands. “And my mother’s family is dead set on wedding me to a merchant.”

“To a merchant? Are they mad?”

“Nay, but they are short of money.” Glynis gripped his arm and looked up at him in a most appealing way. “I’d rather be unhappy at home than unhappy here. Please, Alex, don’t leave me in this city.”

“Get your things,” he said.

“Thank ye.” Glynis threw her arms around his neck. Too soon, she released him.

“Best not tell your relatives,” he said, catching her arm before she could fly up the stairs. “We don’t want an argument.”

He and Glynis both turned to look at the maid, who was still standing behind Glynis.

“I’ll tell ye the same as I told your mother,” the woman said. “You’ll find no happiness in this house, so go with your handsome Highlander as quick as ye can.”

“Bless ye, Bessie,” Glynis said, picking up her skirts and heading toward the stairs.

“But take me with ye, mistress,” the maid said.

The two women turned pleading eyes on Alex.

“Can Bessie come? Please?” Glynis asked. “It won’t be proper if I don’t have a maid with me when I arrive home. We can tell my father that she traveled with us both going and coming.”

“Aye.” God help him, he’d be traveling with three females now. He did not point out that a serving woman was what he’d asked for in the first place.

As Alex watched the two women disappear up the stairs, he felt an unfamiliar tug on his hand and looked down. By the saints, he had forgotten his wee daughter already. What kind of a father was he going to make?

Sorcha gave his hand another tug and pointed at the stairs, as if asking for an explanation.

“Mistress Glynis is coming with us,” he said. “She’ll take care of ye.”

His daughter gave him the faintest of smiles—her first—and it made his heart go all soft like butter on a hot day.

“So ye like Mistress Glynis?” he asked her.

Sorcha put her thumb in her mouth and gave him a solemn nod.

Alex sighed. “I do as well.”

CHAPTER 25

Alex was in the stable behind the tavern getting the horses when he heard running footsteps behind him. But it was only the tavern keeper’s daughter, so he put away his dirk. She was a stout lass of seventeen or so, and it took her a moment to get her breath.

“Were ye able to find a clean gown for the wee lass with that coin I gave ye?” he asked.

Alex was relieved that Glynis had insisted on giving the child a bath at the tavern because he never would have attempted it himself. Sorcha was so filthy, however, that he had planned to dunk her in the first loch they came to.

“I found a gown, but that’s not what I’ve come to tell ye,” the young woman said between gasps. “There are royal guards inside asking for ye. I told them we hadn’t seen ye since yesterday, but they won’t leave, and they’re watching the door.”

Damn, they’d come early. The regent was anxious to lock him away again.

“Can ye bring my friends out the back without the guards seeing ye?” he asked. When the young woman gave him an earnest nod, he took her by the shoulders and kissed her cheek. “Thank ye. This is kind of ye.”

The lass blushed almost purple and hurried back inside.

A short time later, Alex and his three female charges rode out the back with the guards none the wiser.

“See how well Sorcha sits on a horse,” Alex said, as he held his daughter in front of him on Rosebud. “She must get that from me—’tis in the blood, ye know.”

Glynis gave him an indulgent smile. She was looking as pretty as could be on Buttercup.

“Relax, Bessie,” Alex told the maid because she was sitting as stiff as poker behind Glynis and holding her in a death grip.

“Ye call this enormous beast with the devil eyes Buttercup?” Bessie asked. “It tried to bite me!”

“Ach, ye are upsetting her.” He reached over and patted Buttercup.

Glynis covered her mouth to stifle a laugh.

“Those are D’Arcy’s men,” Alex said, pointing at the group gathered in front of the palace gate. He wished they were meeting anywhere but here, but he didn’t think the regent’s men would try to take him in front of D’Arcy.

D’Arcy spotted him and rode toward them, his white scarf blowing in the breeze.

“I feared you would not be joining us.” D’Arcy flashed a white-toothed smile at Glynis and Sorcha. “Are these lovely ladies here to see us off?”

“They are traveling with me,” Alex said.

“What a delightful surprise,” D’Arcy said, his gaze lingering on Glynis.

Alex turned to Glynis. “I apologize for speaking in French, but I don’t know if my friend here speaks anything else.”

“Is that Gaelic you are speaking to this lovely lady?” D’Arcy said. “I can’t speak Gaelic, but I know a bit of Scots.”

“She doesn’t,” Alex lied. “Shame, but I fear ye won’t be able to speak to her at all.”

“With women, it is possible to speak with only the eyes,” D’Arcy said, his gaze never leaving her face.

Ach, Frenchmen.

“What did he say?” Glynis asked.

“He wants to know where the privy is,” Alex said. “He needs to take a piss before we leave.”

Glynis’s eyebrows shot up, and she flushed a becoming shade of pink.

“What is the lady’s name?” D’Arcy asked.

“Glynis MacNeil.” Alex begrudged him the information. But since they would be traveling together all the way to the Campbell stronghold of Inveraray, he could not very well keep her name a secret.

“Is she yours?” D’arcy asked.

“Nay, she’s no mine.” Then, for no good reason, he added, “Not precisely.”

Why was he doing this? There could be no better man for Glynis. Lord Antoine d’Arcy was a champion knight who held important titles and lands in France and was closely connected to Scotland’s new regent. In addition, he had the personal virtues of being brave, honest, and conscientious. It was those qualities—rather than that ridiculous white scarf—that had earned D’Arcy the nickname the White Knight.

In fact, D’Arcy was so virtuous as to be a trifle dull. And he was not a Highlander, but the man could not help his birth.

“What has he been doing in Scotland?” Glynis asked.

Alex translated her question and groaned under his breath when he heard D’Arcy’s response.

“D’Arcy designed the new artillery and blockhouse at Dunbar Castle, to secure it in preparation for Albany’s return.” Alex cleared his throat. “And he designed the new artillery works here at Edinburgh Castle as well.”

Ach, being rich and titled was not enough? Must the man be brilliant as well?

“My, that is impressive,” Glynis said, nodding at D’Arcy.

“I suspect he also walks on water.” Alex found his friend’s list of accomplishments rather tedious.

“Your current lady is quite unlike the ones you had in France,” D’Arcy said, drawing Alex’s attention again. “She has a subtle beauty that is far more intriguing.”

“She is not my ‘current lady,’” Alex said between his teeth. He did not want D’Arcy thinking Glynis was that sort.

D’Arcy took his eyes off Glynis long enough to raise his eyebrows at Alex. “Then she is available, no?”

“Not in the way that ye are suggesting,” Alex said. “Shouldn’t ye be gathering your men? ’Tis no getting any earlier.”

“I have an extra mule the maid can ride,” D’Arcy said. “The lady will be more comfortable riding alone.”

When D’Arcy turned his horse to rejoin his men, Alex looked down to find that Sorcha had her face pressed against him. He could have kicked himself for letting his irritation with D’Arcy show. The child was so sensitive to his moods that he would have to be more careful.

“Nothing to worry about, little one,” he said, patting her soft hair. “No one here will harm ye.”

“’Tis fortunate we could join Lord d’Arcy’s group,” Glynis said, as they started off.

“Hmmph.” Alex would have preferred to travel separately, but traveling with D’Arcy’s men would be safer. With three females in his care, Alex had no choice.

As they rode out of the city, Alex tried desperately to think of what he would do with his daughter once they reached Skye. He could give her to his mother to raise—but he feared his parents would fight as much over a grandchild as they had over a son.

For a mile or two, he considered leaving Sorcha with his cousin Ian and his wife, as Sabine had suggested. But those twins were going to be terrors. Having been one himself, Alex could recognize the trait. Nay, that would not do at all.

He looked down at Sorcha, who had fallen asleep against him, and sighed. The deeper truth was that he did not want to give up his daughter. He never would have predicted that he would feel this way, but he did not question it, either. The problem was that he could not raise her alone—a girl needed a mother.

Alex tried mightily, but there was no avoiding the obvious conclusion. To keep his daughter close, he would have to shackle himself to a wife. He had been fooling himself, in any case, to believe he could escape matrimony forever. Neither his parents nor Connor would give him any peace until he stepped off that cliff.

He did not want a wife. But, like it or not, he had a sudden need for one.

The image of Glynis standing in front of rearing horses with a dirk in one hand and a bloody stick in the other came into his mind. She would make a fiercely protective mother. After Sabine’s indifference, that was precisely the kind of mother his daughter needed and deserved.

Múineann gá seift. Need teaches a plan. He could solve all his problems with one stroke—and the answer was riding right beside him.

Glynis was at the top of Connor’s list of marriage prospects, so Alex could do his duty by his clan and provide a good mother for Sorcha at the same time. And it didn’t hurt that he had this abiding itch to bed the very woman who would suit both purposes so well.

Glynis needed a husband, and he needed a wife. Alex was sure he could work out a sensible arrangement with her.

He turned and gave Glynis a wide smile.

As the saying went, get bait while the tide is out.

* * *

What was Alex doing, smiling and winking at her like that, for anyone to see?

“I’d like to sneak off with ye and share a blanket under the stars tonight,” Alex said.

Glynis glanced about her, blushing to her roots. Fortunately, the riders had strung out along the trail so that no one else was within earshot. Bessie appeared to be enjoying herself overmuch, chatting with D’Arcy’s manservant at the back of the group.

“Ye have your daughter with ye,” she hissed.

“I missed ye in my bed last night,” Alex said. “I couldn’t sleep at all.”

“Alex, hush!” she said. “I’m sure ye say that to all your women.”

“Nay, I never tell women I miss them.”

Glynis did not know what to make of that. Despite herself, she was flattered that Alex still wanted her. But then, they had a long journey ahead, and there were no other women, save for Bessie, who had a good twenty years on him.

“What happened between us should not have,” she said, turning to speak to him in a low voice. “And ye know verra well it cannot happen again.”

“Why not?”

What a maddening man. “I only did it because no one would ever find out,” she hissed. “And because I never expected to see ye again.”

“Ye do want to,” Alex said, giving her that smoldering look that made her chest so tight she could hardly draw breath.

His hair brushed his shoulders, and she remembered gripping it in her fingers. And how it felt to have him deep inside her, saying her name over and over.

Aye, she wanted to.

“It doesn’t matter whether I want to or no,” she said. “I cannot, and I will not.”

CHAPTER 26

Glynis sat with Sorcha on her lap while Alex fed sticks into the fire. After four nights, they had their routine. They ate supper with D’Arcy and his men around the main campfire, and then Alex built them a separate fire several yards away from the others. He had also fashioned a tent from extra blankets for Glynis, Bessie, and Sorcha, to give them privacy from the men. Bessie, who was not accustomed to long days of riding, was already asleep inside it.

The firelight glinted off Alex’s fair hair and the strong lines of his perfect face. Though it was growing chilly, he pushed his sleeves up, revealing his tautly muscled forearms. When he caught her staring at him, he pinned her with a sizzling look. Then he slid his gaze over her from head to toe, with pauses in between, making her feel as if he was running his fingers over her naked skin.

Glynis knew what he wanted because she wanted it, too. Her resistance had worn thin, riding next to him all day and then sleeping a few feet away from him each night. Traveling the same trail made her recall all too clearly how they had spent their nights on their way to Edinburgh.

She would not bring shame upon herself and her family by having an open affair with Alex. But she had come to the conclusion that if there was any way she could have a secret one again, she would. Since that appeared utterly impossible with the child and the maid and twenty men a stone’s throw away, Glynis resolutely focused her attention on Sorcha.

“One, two, three…four,” she repeated in Gaelic, as she held up the child’s fingers. “Five…six…seven…” Glynis felt Alex’s eyes on her and turned to him. “Stop looking at me like that.”

A slow smile spread over his face. “Like I want ye? I can’t help it, Glynis. I do.”

“Watch what ye say,” she whispered. “Ye don’t know how much Gaelic the child understands already.” Despite the fact that Sorcha’s head lay heavy against Glynis’s chest and her eyelids were drifting shut, Glynis continued. “Eight, nine—”

“For God’s sake, Glynis, let the poor child sleep.” Alex scooped Sorcha up in his arms, then he paused and looked down at his daughter with a soft smile. “I’m looking forward to taking her sailing. Ye can see that the Viking blood is strong in her, just as it is in me.”

“Aye,” Glynis said, thinking they made an extraordinary pair with their fair hair shining in the firelight. “And when ye took her in the loch today, she swam like a wee fish.”

Alex laid Sorcha inside the tent next to Bessie. When he returned, he sat close enough to Glynis that his sleeve brushed hers. She stared into the fire and tried to make herself breathe normally.

“I have a proposition for ye,” Alex said.

Glynis’s stomach did a little flip. “A proposition?”

She hoped her voice didn’t sound as stiff and prim to him as it did to her. Did he have to put it to her formally? This would be easier if he sneaked off with her into the darkness, swept her into his arms, and covered her with kisses. But it was like Alex not to let her pretend he had seduced her. Nay, he would make her acknowledge that she chose to sin with him.

“I want to.” She was gripping the skirt of her gown so tightly that her knuckles were white. Could he not just get on with it?

“I haven’t told ye the proposition yet.”

“Must ye always tease me?” Glynis was so embarrassed she could not look at him. “I told ye the answer is aye. But not now—we must wait until we are certain all the men are asleep so no one sees us.”

Alex touched her elbow, sending sparks of heat up her arm.

“I don’t mean to tease ye,” he said in a low voice that reverberated through her. “And I’m not propositioning ye, if that’s what ye think.”

Heat drenched through her. It was ten times—nay, a hundred times—more embarrassing to say aye to a proposition that was not given, than to one that was.

“Wait,” Alex said, holding her arm as she tried to pull away.

She felt hurt, as well as humiliated, and she wanted to be away from him.

“Glynis, listen to me.” She struggled against him, but he held her in a firm grip. “I do want to bed ye.”

This was too mortifying. “Let me go, Alex.”

He turned her face toward him. “Believe me, I do want ye.”

The roughness in his voice and the heat in his eyes made her feel confused and flustered. Did he want her or no?

“Bedding ye is part of what I’m asking ye,” he said, his green eyes intent on hers. “But it’s no the most important part.”

There was something more important to Alex MacDonald than swiving? Now there was a surprise.

“What else do ye want of me?” She could not think with him so close.

Alex released her and cleared his throat. For a man who was usually so at ease, he suddenly seemed uncomfortable in his own skin. All her instincts were on alert, telling her to be wary. Whatever Alex was about to ask her, he surely did not want to.

“Marriage.” Alex said it on an exhale, as if forcing the word out. “That’s what I’m asking.”

“Marriage?” Glynis could not have been more astonished if a dozen fairies had joined them at their campfire.

“Ye will have to take another husband,” Alex said. “Surely ye can see that now?”

She had been trying to reconcile herself to the notion since discovering that her mother’s family was just as adamant as her father was about seeing her remarried. But it was a bitter medicine to swallow.

“As distasteful as it is to me to wed again, I admit that I may have no choice in the end,” she said. “But you, Alex, ye cannot seriously want a wife.”

“My daughter needs a mother,” he said.

Of course, that was what prompted this. Why had she not thought of it at once?

“Why me?” she asked. “There are plenty of women—including chieftains’ daughters—who want a husband.”

“Sorcha warmed to ye from the start,” Alex said. “She’s become attached to ye, and I believe ye have to her as well.”

An unexpected swell of disappointment filled Glynis’s chest.

“You’d be a good mother to her,” he said.

“And that is the reason ye ask me to be your wife?” Her voice was sharper than she intended.

“We get along well enough.” Alex shrugged and gave her his devilish smile. “Especially in bed.”

“So going to bed with ye would be part of my duties, in addition to playing nursemaid?” she snapped. “For how long, Alex?”

When his eyes darted like a trapped animal, Glynis felt as if her heart were being squeezed by a fist.

“Ye heard what I did to my first husband.” She deliberately looked at his crotch. “Are ye no afraid I’ll cut it off?”

* * *

Alex threw his head back and laughed. “I do like your spark, Glynis.”

If he could keep things light and easy between them, all would be well—or, at least, well enough. He was determined to raise his daughter in a home without the fights and screaming that he grew up with. From his parents, he’d learned that one strong emotion led too easily to another, that love could turn to hate. And hate lasted far longer.

Magnus Clanranald had made the same mistake that Alex’s father had, embarrassing his wife by being brazen about his other women. There was no need for that. A good husband was sensitive to his wife’s feelings. If Alex could not control his urges, then he’d keep his affairs brief and out of Glynis’s sight.

“I’d always respect ye.” Alex looked into the fire and spoke to her from his heart. “I promise I would never embarrass ye. I would always be discreet.”

Both his parents had told him countless times that it was not in his blood to be content with one woman. But at the moment, at least, all his urges involved Glynis. He would not be satisfied until he had her a hundred different ways. By the saints, he wanted this woman as he’d never wanted another. The last four days and nights had nearly killed him.

He turned, intent on dragging her off into the bushes at last. But he stopped short when he saw that the fire burning in her eyes was not the sort he had been hoping for.

“Oouu!” The sound she emitted as she sprang to her feet made him glad there was no crockery about for her to throw at him. Apparently, promising to be discreet had been the wrong thing to say. He stood up and considered how best to soothe her.

“What woman,” she said, planting her fists on her hips, “could say nay to having such a considerate husband?”

“I don’t want to lie to ye,” he said. “I’ve never tried to be faithful, so I don’t know if I can.”

“Ye are a born romantic, Alexander Bàn MacDonald.”

Good lord, did hardheaded Glynis MacNeil expect love? He’d had no notion she harbored such hopes.

“I thought your first marriage would have cured ye of unreasonable expectations,” he said—and knew at once he had made another a mistake.

“So, I am the unreasonable one?” Her eyes were narrow slits like a wildcat’s ready to strike. “And yet, ye would expect me to mother your daughter, manage your household, and be your bedmate for as long as ye like. And then, when ye tire of having me in your bed, I’m to stand aside while ye have one ‘discreet’ affair after another with every willing woman in the Western Isles?”

Alex shifted from foot to foot. He did not sleep with every willing woman, but it seemed best not to mention that just now.

“And because ye are such a handsome, charming man,” she said, spreading her hands out, “I would, of course, agree to this arrangement.”

“Ye are a sensible woman,” he said, though he was having serious doubts about this. “Ye have to marry someone, and I’m no worse than most.”

Not much worse, anyway.

“Besides,” he added, “ye already went to bed with me, so we ought to marry.”

“I presume,” she continued, as though he had not spoken, “that I could have affairs as well, so long as I was discreet.”

“Nay.” The word was out of his mouth before he thought it. He would have to kill any man who touched his wife, but he thought better of telling her this. “Suppose ye became pregnant? I’d need to know that the child was mine.”

“Setting aside the fact that I’m verra likely barren,” she said. “You’re saying it would be well and good for me to raise your children by other women, but no the other way around.”

“Aye.” That was the way of the world. Why did she make it sound as if he had invented it? “But I only have the one child.”

“So far.” She folded her arms. “I appreciate that ye blessed me with your kind offer, but I will not marry another philanderer. If I am forced to take another husband, I’ll wed a steady, serious man I can rely on.”

He reached for her hand, but she snatched it away.

“You, Alexander Bàn MacDonald,” she said, poking her finger into his chest, “are the verra last man in all of the Highlands I would want for a husband.”

* * *

Sorcha opened her eyes to blackness, and fear rushed through her. When she heard the soft breathing of the women on either side of her, she knew she was not back in the room with the big mice. Still, she wanted to see the stars to be sure.

Taking care not to wake Glynis and Bessie, she crawled out of the tent on her hands and knees. Across the cold campfire, her father sat alone in the dark. He was no more than a black shape, but she knew it was him. And he was sad.

The grass made her feet wet as she walked around the campfire to him.

“Ye couldn’t sleep either?” he asked in a soft voice when she crawled into his lap.

She nodded against his chest and pointed up at the stars.

“A wish?” He always seemed to understand her. She felt him chuckle, and he said, “I suppose it can’t hurt.”

Together they found the brightest star so he could make his wish.

Sorcha didn’t need to make one. Hers had been granted when her father found her.

CHAPTER 27

By the saints, Glynis MacNeil was a stubborn woman. In the week since Alex suggested they marry, she had not spoken to him except when absolutely necessary.

Worse, she spent far too much time riding beside D’Arcy. They were in front of him and Sorcha now, engaged in a lively conversation that involved hand motions as much as words. It appeared that she was teaching D’Arcy Gaelic. Still, Glynis had kept her promise to care for Sorcha on the trip. Every night, she sat by the fire with his daughter in her lap and then slept with her—instead of him.

Alex usually let women come to him, but he was not above seducing Glynis to persuade her to wed him. It should not be difficult—he could tell she wanted him. He was always catching her eyes on him, because he was always looking at her as well. Unfortunately, the opportunities to seduce her while riding out in the open with twenty men and his daughter were few, so Alex was biding his time until they reached the Campbell stronghold.

In the meantime, he was wooing her with his stories around the campfire. Glynis was a constant surprise, for beneath that sober, sensible demeanor was a lass with a weakness for a good tale. Alex hoped her weakness would extend to the storyteller.

“That castle ye see across this loch is Inveraray Castle, the seat of the Campbell clan,” Alex said, pointing it out for Sorcha. Sometimes now he spoke to her only in Gaelic, and she would tap on his arm to let him know when she did not understand. “We’ll reach it tomorrow.”

Glynis slowed her horse to ride beside them.

“The Campbells are a powerful clan, and this is just one of their castles,” Alex continued. “The Campbell chieftain can raise hundreds of warriors.”

He glanced at Glynis’s stiff form and decided that a wee bit of jealousy might help his cause. “Glynis, do ye think I should look for a wife among the Campbells? Nothing would please my chieftain more.”

“Nor mine.” She gave him a look that would slice through granite. “I suspect a chieftain’s daughter would appeal to those land-grabbing Campbells.”

“If ye wish to catch a man, I suggest ye work on your charm,” Alex said. “Men like sweet, agreeable women.”

Sorcha tapped on his arm, but he shook his head. This was not a conversation for a child.

“Is that what ye will tell your daughter?” Glynis asked. “That she must be sweet and agreeable?”

“If I wanted her to wed, I would,” he lied.

“Hmmph.”

Sorcha was tapping furiously on his arm. Finally, he tore his gaze away from the infuriating woman riding beside him to look at his daughter.

“Why are we arguing, is that what ye want to know?” he asked Sorcha. When she nodded, he said, “Because Mistress Glynis is stubborn as a mule and can’t see what is good for her.”

He repeated it in three languages to be sure Glynis did not miss his meaning.

* * *

Sorcha had fallen asleep with her head in Glynis’s lap long ago, and Bessie was yawning beside her, while the men took turns telling stories. Glynis had steeled herself against Alex attempting to get her alone on this, their last night before reaching Inveraray Castle, but he appeared in no hurry to leave the main campfire.

She should rouse Sorcha and Bessie and go off to bed, but she was enjoying the tales. If she were truthful, she was only waiting to hear Alex. No one could tell a story like he did—and it gave her an excuse to watch him.

When at last it was Alex’s turn, Glynis smiled in anticipation.

“Since we are about to visit the Campbells, I’ll tell ye the true story about how the Campbell chieftain’s brother became the Thane of Cawdor.”

Alex stretched out his legs, settling himself for a long tale. As he told it, his voice carried around the circle, drawing them in and warming Glynis as much as the fire.

“Seventeen years ago, the last Thane of Cawdor died, leaving no heir but a wee red-haired babe. Her name was Muriel, and she was the last of her line, the sole heiress to the ancient seat of Cawdor.

“Chieftains from all over the Highlands started scheming, each set on making a match between young Muriel and his son—for whatever man the wee lass wed would become the next Thane of Cawdor. The lass was but a babe, so they had plenty of time to work their plans, or so they thought.

“But all that land and wealth in the hands of one wee lass proved too great a temptation to the Campbells. One day, when wee Muriel was four years old, her nursemaid took her outside Cawdor Castle to enjoy the fine weather. And that’s when a party of Campbells, who had been waiting for just such an opportunity, burst out of the woods and stole her away.”

Glynis gasped, and Alex’s eyes twinkled at her as he met her gaze across the fire.

“Muriel’s uncles gave chase, of course. The Campbells were far from home, and it looked as though Muriel’s clansmen would catch them. But the Campbells saw them coming and inverted a large iron kettle on the ground. Then one of the Campbell men ordered all seven of his sons to defend the kettle to the death, pretending wee Muriel was inside it.

“The seven sons fought hard, and every one of them died. When Muriel’s clansmen lifted the kettle to rescue her, they found nothing but the green grass on the ground. While they had been fighting the seven brothers, the rest of the Campbell party had escaped with the lass.”

“’Tis a long journey from Cawdor Castle to the Campbell lands,” one of the men around the campfire said. “Did wee Muriel survive?”

“Ye will have to decide that for yourselves,” Alex said. “When one of the Campbell warriors asked what would happen if the child died before she reached marriageable age, the chieftain said…”

Alex paused until someone called out, “Come, Alex, tell us what he said.”

“The chieftain said that the wee heiress would never die so long as a red-haired lass could be found on either side of Loch Awe—which, as ye know, is in the heart of Campbell territory.”

“Conniving bastard,” one man said amidst the laughter around the campfire.

“It was to prevent just such a scheme,” Alex said, lifting his finger, “that Muriel’s nursemaid had the foresight to bite off the end of the wee lass’s finger when she saw the Campbells burst out of the wood.”

“Ach, the poor child!” Bessie murmured beside Glynis.

“Now do ye suppose, that after the trouble the Campbells went through to get their hands on Muriel, they would let a missing joint on one wee finger come between them and all that land and wealth?”Alex let his gaze move slowly around the circle. “Who’s to say that they didn’t find another red-haired lass and bite off the end of her finger?”

There was a long silence around the campfire.

“But Muriel did live?” Glynis could not help asking.

“Most believe she did,” Alex said. “The red-haired lass was raised in the Campbell chieftain’s household, and on her twelfth birthday she was wed to the chieftain’s son John.”

That was young to wed, though it was legal age of consent.

“Ach, the poor thing must be miserable,” Glynis said.

“’Tis true that the pair was wed for the most practical of reasons,” Alex said, giving her a pointed look across the campfire. “That was five years ago, and by all accounts, they are a remarkably happy couple.”

Glynis did not mistake Alex’s meaning. Holding his gaze, she said, “Devoted to each other, no doubt.”

“Aye, despite the fact that the Campbells killed all of Muriel’s uncles after the marriage,” Alex said, then he shifted his gaze to the men around the fire. “The lesson, lads, is to avoid getting yourself between the Campbells and what they want.”

“I could listen to that man’s stories every night and never tire of them,” Bessie said with a long sigh.

Glynis could, as well—if she did not have to wonder who the storyteller was taking to bed afterward.

CHAPTER 28

Inveraray Castle, Argyll

Glynis forced herself to drag her gaze from the young red-haired woman’s little finger—which was missing the last joint—to her face. From the way Lady Muriel gazed up at her husband, it was obvious that she adored the man. What was a pleasant surprise was the way John Campbell’s hard expression softened when he looked at Muriel. Happiness radiated from them.

Glynis swallowed back the well of emotion choking her at the sight. Long ago, she had believed that she would find love like that when she wed. She had decided never to marry again, rather than accept something less a second time.

Against her will, her gaze traveled down the head table past Muriel and John to Archibald Campbell, who had become earl and chieftain when his father was killed at the Battle of Flodden. The Campbell chieftain was black-haired and broad-chested, and he had the piercing eyes of a hawk. It was not the chieftain, however, who drew her attention, but his sister.

Catherine Campbell sat on the other side of the chieftain sharing a plate of food with Alex. With her lush curves, creamy skin, and dark, luminous eyes, Catherine was the sort of woman every man lusted after. And anyone could see that she wanted Alex. Catherine was not a subtle woman.

Catherine’s deep, sensuous laugh seemed to flow below the noise in the hall straight into Glynis’s ears. Glynis stabbed her knife into a slab of pork and cut it into tiny bites for Sorcha, who sat beside her. She chewed her own food with such resolve that her jaw ached.

Glynis was so intent on keeping her gaze on the food before her that she was unaware of the hush in the hall until Sorcha poked her in the side. When she looked up, the only sound in the room was a furious whispering between the Campbell chieftain and his brother and sister, who sat on either side of him. The seat next to Catherine was empty.

“Glynis.”

Glynis jumped at the sound of Alex’s voice behind her.

He rested his hand on her shoulder and said close to her ear, “We are leaving the hall.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Shaggy MacLean has just come through the gate,” he said. “’Tis best we not get caught in the middle of this play.”

Alex did not wait for her to agree. He picked up Sorcha, pulled Glynis to her feet, and whisked them through a side door near the end of the head table. The door led into a narrow passageway between the castle’s stone wall and the decorative wood paneling of the interior wall of the hall.

“What is Shaggy doing here?” Glynis whispered.

“I believe he’s come to share the infinitely sad news of the accidental death of his beloved wife, Catherine, with her brothers.”

“Nay, he would not!” Glynis said.

“Come,” Alex said with a broad smile. “There’s a peephole behind the head table through which we can watch the fun.”

Peepholes in a castle were family secrets. Either Catherine Campbell had an appalling lack of discretion—or she was anticipating bringing Alex into the family.

“Who was that sitting next to ye?” Alex asked. “Ye seemed friendly.”

Glynis forgot she had even spoken to the man, and it took her a moment to recall his name. “Malcolm Campbell. He seemed a quiet, steady man.”

“Ye mean dull and tedious,” Alex said.

“I’m sure he’s a good man,” she said. “Still waters run deep.”

“Stagnant, more likely.” Alex turned to Sorcha and held his finger to his lips. “I’ll explain to ye later, sweet one.”

Alex came to a halt and pointed out two peepholes, close together. He put his arm around Glynys’s shoulders as they leaned down to look. She closed her eyes for a moment, enjoying his touch, before she remembered what she was supposed to be doing.

“I see him,” she whispered.

Shaggy was walking down the length of the great hall with head down, as if he could hardly bear the weight of his grief. Midway down the room, he staggered. And then he commenced to weeping and wailing, making the most wretched sound Glynis had ever heard.

“Ach, the man is playing the part for all he’s worth,” Alex said beside her.

Lady Catherine had left the table. Glynis remembered how much it had shaken her to see her former husband and couldn’t blame Catherine for wanting to avoid seeing Shaggy after what he’d done to her.

Shaggy’s shoulders shook as he paused to mop his face with a big handkerchief. He continued in this fashion, weeping and wailing, until he was a few feet in front of the chieftain’s high table.

Then, suddenly, he halted midstride. His mouth fell open, and his hand went to his heart. Glynis followed his wide-eyed stare and saw Catherine taking her place next to the Campbell chieftain.

Glynis heard Alex’s deep chuckle as Shaggy looked over his shoulder, evidently expecting the Campbell guards to converge on him.

“Will they kill him?” Glynis asked.

“The Campbells will observe the time-honored tradition of Highland hospitality,” Alex said, “and refrain from murdering Shaggy while he is a guest in their home.”

The Campbell chieftain gave one of the servants a slight nod, and the man guided Shaggy to a seat. While Shaggy looked ill, the Campbell siblings sat at the head table eating and drinking as if nothing was amiss. They were a cold-blooded lot.

“Sorcha is getting restless,” Alex said. “There will be nothing more to see tonight except for watching Shaggy sweat.”

Alex led Glynys out of the narrow corridor and up a back stairway.

“What will the Campbells do about Shaggy?” she asked.

“They’ll bide their time and toy with him,” Alex said. “Shaggy will never know what day they will strike. But one day he’ll be found dead with a dirk in his belly, and everyone will know it was a Campbell who put it there.”

Alex opened a door at the top of the stairs, and Glynis found herself outside the bedchamber she shared with Sorcha and Bessie.

“How is it that ye know about the peepholes and secret passageways in the Campbell stronghold?” she asked.

“People like to tell me secrets,” Alex said.

By people, he meant women. And in this particular instance, Lady Catherine Campbell.

Glynis helped Sorcha get ready for bed, and then Alex sat on the floor beside his daughter’s pallet and told her a long story, easily going back and forth from French to Gaelic. Though Glynis was familiar with the tale, Alex made it more exciting than her father’s seannachie ever had.

“She looks like a wee angel,” Glynis said when Sorcha had fallen asleep.

“’Tis early yet,” Alex said with a glint in his eyes that made her nervous.

“Bessie will be up soon,” she said.

Alex shook his head. “I believe your maid has found herself a man.”

“Bessie?” Glynis was shocked. “Ye must be joking.”

“Ye can trust me on that,” Alex said, as he stepped toward her. “We won’t be seeing her for at least a couple of hours.”

Glynis backed up until her heel clunked against the wooden door.

“All the same,” Alex said, as he reached behind her and slid the bar across, “we should make certain we won’t be interrupted.”

“Your daughter is asleep on the floor!”

“That’s what bed curtains are for,” he said. “Come, Glynis, let me take ye behind them and show ye how much I missed ye.”

“Isn’t Catherine waiting for ye?” she asked.

“So ye are jealous.” He chuckled deep in his chest. “I suspect Catherine and her brothers will be watching Shaggy for half the night.”

“I see. Ye have some time on your hands, is that it?”

“You’re the only one I’ve asked to be my wife,” he said.

She closed her eyes when he lowered his head and pressed his warm lips to the side of her throat.

“It is you I want, Glynis MacNeil,” he said against her skin. “Don’t send me looking for another wife.”

“I can’t do this,” she said, pushing him away. “We aren’t even wed yet, and ye have another woman expecting ye later.”

“But I don’t want her,” he said. “I want you.”

He looked so sincere that it would be easy to believe him. Still, he had not denied that Catherine was expecting him.

“For how long would ye want me?” she asked. “A week? A month? That won’t do for me.”

“What if I were to give ye my promise that I wouldn’t stray?” he said, sounding pained. “Will ye take me then? Sorcha and I need ye.”

“How could I trust ye?” she asked, though with Alex’s hands running over her, she was sorely tempted to. “Ye told me before that ye didn’t know yourself if ye could be faithful.”

“If I give my word,” he said with steel in his voice, “I’ll keep it.”

She wanted him to be faithful because he wanted no one but her. Ach, she was foolish to want the impossible from Alexander Bàn MacDonald. If he loved her, she might throw her fate to the four winds and hope for the best. But Alex only wished to wed her for the sake of his daughter.

“Please, Glynis,” he said, his voice like a caress across her skin. “Say ye will marry me and come to bed.”

CHAPTER 29

Alex was flirting shamelessly with Catherine, though his heart was not in it. He’d spent half his life trying to avoid jealous women, and here he was doing his best to make one jealous. And it wasn’t working, damn her.

Last night, he was certain Glynis was going to give in—but she had not. If she continued to refuse him, he would have to choose another. His daughter needed a mother.

Alex caught sight of his daughter and Bessie going through the doorway that led to the upper floors. Glynis was not with them. When he glanced about the hall, he did not see her.

D’Arcy was missing as well.

Under the table, Catherine’s hand was moving up his leg—and heaven knew his cock was suffering from lack of attention. But he did not have time for this now.

“Come to my chamber tonight,” she said close to his ear.

Alex was used to avoiding promises, and he did not make one now.

“I am meeting with your brothers soon, and I must look in on my daughter first,” he said, as he eased Catherine’s hand off his leg. He did intend to see Sorcha—as soon as he found out where Glynis was.

“Your daughter?” Catherine leaned toward him until her breast pressed against his arm. “Surely her nursemaid can look after her?”

“Sorcha is not accustomed to having so many strangers about,” Alex said. “She’s had a difficult time, and she becomes anxious if she does not see me for long.”

“Poor child,” Catherine said, pursing her full, red lips. “She’s lucky to have such an attentive father.”

Alex smiled, pleased by the compliment and by Catherine’s concern for his daughter. “I’m glad ye understand.”

If he could not persuade Glynis to see sense, perhaps he should consider wedding Catherine.

* * *

Glynis felt so unsettled that she had asked Bessie to take Sorcha up for a nap while she went for a walk along the shore of the loch. She was staring off at the mountains, wishing she was home, when she felt someone beside her and turned.

“Ye startled me, Lord d’Arcy,” she said, putting her hand to her chest.

“Please call me Antoine,” he said in his lovely accent. “May I walk with you?”

“Of course,” she said. “Ye have a remarkable gift for languages, Lord—Antoine. Your Gaelic improves by the day.”

“I have a good teacher,” he said, taking her arm. “I hope you will continue to practice with me.”

“I will be here at Inveraray only a short while longer.” She hoped. “But I am happy to help ye until I leave.”

After they walked for a time, D’Arcy came to a halt and turned to face her.

“I have an important question to ask you.” He took her hand and kissed it, as if she were a princess. “Albany has appointed me castellan of Dunbar Castle, a great fortress on the sea to the east. Would you consider joining me there and being the queen of my castle?”

A marriage proposal was the last thing she had expected.

Glynis knew she should shout aye and throw her arms around his neck. D’Arcy was perfect in every possible way: handsome, serious, principled, and a renowned warrior. Most important, he was closely connected to the regent and therefore in a position to protect her clan.

D’Arcy was so far above her father’s expectations for her that she was tempted to agree to be his wife just for spite. And he would be a most considerate husband.

So why did she stand here saying nothing?

Because Alex MacDonald’s face, full of laughter, flooded her vision. Alex was wrong for her in so many ways, and yet the devil tempted her to choose the sinfully charming man.

“Thank ye for your kind offer,” she said. “Please give me a day to consider.”

“Of course.”

D’Arcy kissed her hand again. It was a romantic gesture that should have made her sigh. But, as handsome and gallant as D’Arcy was, she felt no spark.

It was a grave disappointment. She did not, however, need to ask him if he would honor his vows—a man like D’Arcy would always be honorable.

* * *

Alex winked at Catherine and left her to find Glynis. On the steps of the keep, he met D’Arcy.

“I’ve just been speaking with your lovely friend Glynis.” D’Arcy gave Alex a smile like a cat that has gotten its paw into the cream. “I fear you must make the rest of the journey without her. She is going to leave with me.”

“What?”

“She asked for a day to consider my proposal,” D’Arcy said, “but I believe she will say yes.”

“Ye asked Glynis to be your wife?” Alex felt as if he were falling down a deep well with no rope to hold on to.

“Of course not,” D’Arcy said. “I already have a wife.”

“Ye have a wife?”

“As you should, my friend,” D’Arcy said, putting his hand on Alex’s shoulder. “My dear Isabelle was with child when I left, and so we agreed that she must remain in France for the time being. Frankly, I am not at all certain your wild country would suit her.”

“If ye have a wife already,” Alex said, “then just what did ye plan to do with Glynis?”

“Make her my mistress, of course,” he said. “If Isabelle is able to join me in Scotland later, then I will make other arrangements for Glynis. I would not embarrass my wife by keeping another woman in our home while she was there.”

“Ye don’t seriously believe Glynis would agree to be your mistress, do ye?” Alex asked.

“I know you are concerned for Glynis’s welfare,” D’Arcy said. “So I want to assure you that if there are children from our liaison, I will provide for them.”

“Ye misunderstand,” Alex said, wanting to shake him for his stupidity. “I am certain Glynis believes ye are offering her marriage.”

“Marriage?” D’Arcy’s eyebrows shot halfway up his forehead. “Why, even if I were not already married, that would be absurd.”

Alex’s head felt in danger of exploding. “And why would it be absurd?”

“I could never marry that sort of woman.”

Alex grabbed D’Arcy by the front of his tunic. “Just what do ye mean by ‘that sort of woman’?”

“The sort who has affairs with you, Alexander.”

“Glynis is no that sort.” Alex drove his fist into D’Arcy’s jaw, which hurt his hand like the devil, but was very satisfying nonetheless.

“It was an honest mistake,” D’Arcy said, rubbing his jaw. “I can tell you’ve had her from the way the two of you look at each other. So no matter what you say, Glynis is no innocent.”

“We have a saying here: Many a time a man's mouth broke his nose,” Alex said. “If ye don’t want your nose broken, I suggest ye remember that Glynis is a chieftain’s daughter and a woman deserving of your respect.”

“I was not disrespectful,” D’Arcy said, looking offended. “I simply made her an offer.”

“I would have thought the White Knight was too pure to look at another woman once ye had a wife.”

“No man is that pure.” D’Arcy paused to wipe the blood from the corner of his mouth with a white handkerchief. “I fail to understand why you are upset. There’s no harm in my keeping a mistress, especially when my wife is not here.”

“Ye will tell Glynis your true intentions,” Alex said, leaning forward until they were nose to nose.

“I did not mean to deceive her,” D’Arcy said, and took a step back.

“Ye will tell her today.”

“I will be honest with Glynis, of course.” D’Arcy raised an eyebrow. “Will you do the same, my friend?”

“I haven’t misled her.” In fact, he had made her an honorable proposal.

“Yet, I do not believe you have told the lady your true feelings,” D’Arcy said, studying him with narrowed eyes. “If I’d known them myself, I would never have approached her.”

* * *

Sorcha hid behind Bessie’s skirts when she saw the black-eyed woman coming toward them. Sometimes the woman looked at Sorcha like a mean dog that bites.

“You can go,” the woman said to Bessie. “I’ll take her to her father.”

“The mistress told me… ,” Bessie started to say, but her voice faded.

Sorcha understood how words could get stuck inside you.

Bessie left them with a long look over her shoulder. When the woman took Sorcha’s wrist, Sorcha tried to pull away, but the woman gave her that mean-dog look.

“Don’t fuss,” the woman snapped, and started dragging her down the path.

Sorcha wanted to call out for her father or Glynis, but her throat was closed tight.

“Do ye understand a word I say? Ach, how did a clever man like Alex sire an idiot?”

The woman’s voice was like her eyes, full of jagged teeth.

“The man dotes on ye like a pet,” she said. “I can’t have my husband putting his idiot child before me and the children of Campbell blood that I intend to give him.”

CHAPTER 30

Glynis stared out the bedchamber window at the distant hills as she brushed her hair. Like a child, she had spent the entire afternoon in here to avoid seeing either Alex or D’Arcy before she made up her mind. Although she knew it would be the sensible thing to do, she could not quite convince herself to give D’Arcy permission to approach her father to negotiate a marriage contract.

From the corner of her eye, Glynis caught a flash of hair the color of moonbeams. She stepped closer to the narrow window for a better look.

What was Catherine Campbell doing leading Sorcha down the path that ran along the loch? The child missed Rosebud and Buttercup, as they all did, so Glynis had sent her with Bessie to see if Alex could take her for one last ride before the horses’ owners came to claim them. Alex must have let Catherine take Sorcha for a walk instead.

This was a ploy of Catherine’s to win Alex, for the woman did not like the child. Glynis had seen how Catherine looked at Sorcha when Alex was not watching. To be charitable, perhaps Catherine was attempting to forge a bond with the child.

But there was something about the determined way Catherine was walking that made the hairs on the back of Glynis’s neck stand up. And the child was dragging her feet. When Glynis saw how Sorcha kept glancing over her shoulder, she dropped her brush and flew out the door.

She was probably being foolish, but fear pulsed through her veins, urging her feet faster. When she reached the hall, she forced herself to slow to a fast walk and took care not to meet anyone’s eyes, lest they try to speak with her. She could not see Sorcha and Catherine when she stepped out of the doors of the keep. Sweat broke out on her palms.

As soon as she reached the bottom of the keep steps, Glynis picked up her skirts and ran across the castle yard, through the gate, and down to the loch. She continued running along the path that disappeared into the tall brush by the loch. Though she had no reason to suspect Catherine would harm the child, Glynis could not talk herself out of her fear. She ran faster, heedless of the briars that tugged at her gown. Branches slashed at her arms and face.

When she reached a split in the path, she paused, heart racing. One fork went up the hill, while the other continued through the thicker vegetation along the shoreline. She took the shoreline path, instinct telling her the greater danger lay in that direction.

When she still did not see them, panic pounded through her veins. Had she taken the wrong fork? She started to turn around when she thought she heard something.

Glynis paused to listen. At first she could hear nothing over the thundering of her heart. But then, she heard it again. A child’s whimper.

“Your father will be disappointed,” she heard a woman’s voice, cajoling, “when I tell him ye are afraid of the water.”

Sorcha did not fear the water—Glynis had never seen a child less afraid of it.

Glynis left the path and pushed her way through the brush to the edge of the loch. The sight that met her should have been a peaceful image: a beautiful dark-haired woman leading a fair-haired child out for a swim in a quiet loch on a golden afternoon.

The water was up to Sorcha’s chest. Instead of splashing and playing in the water as she did when Alex took her swimming, her slight body was stiff. Catherine was pulling on her arm.

“Can I join ye?” Glynis called out, as she pushed her way through the last of the bushes. “There’s nothing I like better than a swim in the late afternoon.”

When Catherine looked up, Glynis pretended not to notice her furious expression and gave her a bright smile. But her heart turned in her chest when she saw that Sorcha’s eyes were brimming with unshed tears.

“Oh dear,” Glynis said, looking about her as if she were dimwitted, “it looks as if ye forgot to bring dry clothes.”

“A maid is following with them,” Catherine said. “I don’t know what’s keeping her.”

“Ach, maids,” Glynis said, shaking her head. “It appears she has forgotten, so you’d best come in. Alex MacDonald is verra protective of his wee daughter, and he won’t be pleased if she catches cold.”

Catherine looked down at Sorcha. “I’ll bring ye back another day, I promise.”

As soon as Catherine released Sorcha’s wrist, the child ran out of the water and straight into Glynis’s arms.

“Such a fearful child,” Catherine said. “Ye can tell she was not born a Highlander.”

A murderous rage pounded through Glynis. But while in the heart of the Campbell stronghold, it would not pay to call the chieftain’s sister the liar that she was.

Pretending nothing had happened while she walked beside Catherine and held the shaking child in her arms was one of the hardest things Glynis had ever done. If she had not left her dirk in the bedchamber, Catherine’s dead body might well have been found on the path later that day.

Clearly, Catherine had decided she wanted Alex—and not his child.

“As ye say, Sorcha was not born a Highlander,” Glynis said. “I fear she will have a difficult time adjusting to Alexander MacDonald’s home. ’Tis a lonely, desolate place.”

Of course, Glynis had never been there. If she could dissuade Catherine from pursuing Alex, however, Sorcha would be safe from her.

“What is Alex’s home like?” Catherine asked.

“It sits on a high cliff facing north over the sea, where the wind is always blowing.” Glynis shuddered. “They don’t get many visitors there. Ye could go weeks without seeing a soul outside the household.”

Catherine frowned. “How many are in the household?”

“I fear the family has hit on hard times,” Glynis said, and shook her head.

“But Alexander’s cousin is chieftain, and he holds Alex in high esteem.”

“That is true enough, but the chieftain must keep all his warriors at his own castle, Dunscaith,” Glynis said. “Unfortunately, he can offer little help when pirates attack, as they frequently do. And then, of course, there are the MacLeods.”

“Ach, you’re just jealous,” Catherine said, a smile curving her lips. “I’ve seen how ye look at Alexander.”

Damn, Glynis was never good at lying. What else could she do to protect the child? If she told Alex what she’d seen, he would not believe Catherine intended to murder the child. And she could not blame him, for no one would. And yet, Glynis had never been more certain of anything in her life.

Glynis kept her gaze fixed ahead as she marched along the path. Her skin itched from the child’s damp heat soaking through the front of her gown. Though her arms grew weary, she held Sorcha tight against her. When they reached the fork in the path, Catherine stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

“Let go of me,” Glynis said, her façade breaking.

“I’m doing ye a favor, Glynis, for we both know ye couldn’t keep a man like Alex satisfied,” Catherine said with her cat’s smile. “He’ll be in my bed tonight—and he won’t want to leave it.”

With that, Catherine turned and started up the fork that climbed the hill, her wet gown clinging to every curve.

Glynis understood why Shaggy had left the woman on a tidal rock.

* * *

Alex was in a foul mood as he waited for the guards to admit him into the Campbell chieftain’s private chamber. By now, D’Arcy would have told Glynis of his true intentions. Alex had put off visiting his daughter because he didn’t want to find Glynis weeping her eyes out over the Frenchman.

“The chieftain is ready for ye,” one of the guards said. “I’ll take your weapons.”

The Campbell chieftain had hundreds of warriors at his command and far more guards protecting his person than the regent had. Parting with his claymore and dirks worsened Alex’s mood. He never felt right without his weapons close to hand.

Inside the chamber, the Campbell chieftain and his brother John, the Thane of Cawdor, sat on ornately carved chairs with rich tapestries hanging on the wall behind them. Alex needed to keep his wits about him. This pair had proven they were crafty enough to hold on to power in the ever-changing currents of royal and clan politics.

The Campbell chieftain waved for his guards to leave the room, a symbolic gesture of trust. Unlike Alex, the two Campbells wore their weapons.

“My sister Catherine tells me you are the one who saved her from drowning,” the chieftain said when Alex had sat down in the single chair opposite them.

“’Twas fortunate I was there to offer assistance,” Alex said.

“We’re no pleased that ye stole horses from our men,” John, the Thane of Cawdor, said. “But we are impressed.”

“I only borrowed them,” Alex said.

“Someone murdered the Campbell fishermen ye met.” The chieftain’s black eyes burned bright with anger. “One of them lived long enough to tell us it wasn’t you.”

That was lucky.

“D’Arcy tells me ye had some difficulty with our new regent,” the chieftain said.

“Difficulty? Ach, the regent liked me so well he wanted to keep me as a permanent guest,” Alex said, and the two Campbells laughed.

“I like to discharge my debts,” the chieftain said. “I’ll make certain the MacDonalds of Sleat are not falsely accused of being traitorous rebels.”

“I appreciate that,” Alex said, and the chieftain nodded, accepting his due. Now for the difficult part. “As ye know, the Western Isles are swarming with rebels. By not joining them, my clan risks being attacked. For us to take the Crown’s side in this fight, we need a strong ally.”

The Campbell chieftain nodded and folded his hands. “That would be wise.”

“A marriage alliance is one means of binding our clans in friendship,” John said. “Once this matter with Shaggy Maclean is settled, our sister will be free to remarry.”

Sweat rolled down Alex’s back. He hoped they were not suggesting what he thought they were.

“I don’t have the authority to agree to a marriage on my chieftain’s behalf,” Alex said and hardly felt guilty for throwing Connor to the wolves.

“Catherine seems to favor you,” John said.

“Ach, I’m no more than a chieftain’s cousin.” Alex’s head was pounding. Now that the offer was being made, he was suddenly very certain he did not want to marry Catherine. “I’m sure ye will want someone more important.”

“After the marriage I arranged for her nearly ended in her death,” the chieftain said, “I’m inclined to let Catherine have her way this time.”

O shluagh! Alex silently pleaded for help from the fairies.

“Your sister is as fair a lass as ever graced the Highlands,” Alex said, “but I’ve already asked another to be my wife.” Though Glynis had refused him, he did ask.

“That pretty MacNeil lass?” John asked.

“Aye, and I’ve already bedded her,” Alex said. Under Highland custom, a promise to marry followed by a bedding made you as good as wed. Alex wasn’t telling them that the bedding had come before, and not after the promise. “I intend to negotiate the marriage contract with her father when we return.”

“I wish ye well,” John said, “but I suggest ye hide your wife’s dirk.”

Alex forced a laugh, though he did not find the remark amusing.

“I believe my chieftain would be honored to enter into an agreement of manrent, instead.” Alex was suggesting an agreement under which his clan would have the protection of the powerful Campbells in exchange for sending warriors when the Campbells called on them.

“Tell your chieftain I’m agreeable to it,” the Campbell said. “I understand he has his own troubles to deal with now, but I’ll expect him to come with his warriors when I need them.”

Alex could go home now, knowing he had accomplished the best he could for his clan. Of course, they could count on the Campbells only so long as their interests coincided. The Campbells looked out for the Campbells, first, last, and always. But for the time being, the Campbells would mind their backs vis-à-vis both the Crown and the other clans. That would free them to turn their attention to subduing the pirates on North Uist.

Glynis could ruin it all. If she did not become Alex’s wife in the very near future, the Campbell chieftain would take offense over Alex’s refusal of his sister. And the only way to fix that would be to marry Catherine.

Alex was in a grim mood when he knocked on Glynis’s bedchamber door.

“Where are they?” he demanded when he found only Bessie there.

“I don’t know where Mistress Glynis is, but I thought Sorcha was with you.”

“With me?”

“Aye, Lady Catherine said she would take Sorcha to ye,” Bessie said. “As the two of ye seemed uncommonly friendly, I didn’t think ye would want me to tell her nay…”

“If your mistress had agreed to marry me, then I wouldn’t need to be uncommonly friendly in pursuit of another wife!”

Alex turned on his heel and stormed off, though it was not like him to be so irritable. After searching all the common areas of the castle without finding Glynis, Sorcha, or Catherine, he went up to the walkway that ran along the top of on the castle’s wall to see if he could spot them from there.

He was pacing back and forth, annoying the guards, when he saw Glynis emerge from the path that skirted the loch. He saw at once that something was amiss. Her hair was loose, and she was swaying with the weight of something she was clutching against her chest. An instant later, he realized that the burden she carried was Sorcha.

Alex ran down the wall steps two at a time. He was across the yard and through the gate before Glynis reached the castle. When he saw that his daughter’s clothes were wet and her hair hung in wet clumps down her back, his stomach dropped to his feet.

“What happened?” He tried to lift her from Glynis’s arms, but Sorcha clung to her like a monkey.

“Sorcha had a bad fright in the water,” Glynis said, “but she is unharmed.”

He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. How did Ian survive with two daughters? Alex supposed that with practice not every spill his daughter took would take a year off his life.

“I’ve changed my mind,” Glynis said, and she had the fiercest look in her eyes.

“Changed your mind about what?” he asked.

“If ye still want me, I’m ready to wed ye.”

CHAPTER 31

Truly, Glynis was the most surprising woman. Just when Alex thought she would never agree to wed him, she decided she would, with no persuasion. This was what he wanted. And yet, he did not feel much relieved.

Why would she change her mind so suddenly? Alex considered the question as he waited outside the bedchamber while Sorcha and Glynis changed out of their wet clothes. Perhaps Sorcha’s little mishap, whatever it was, made Glynis realize how attached she was to the child.

More likely, it was because D’Arcy had told her that his offer was to be his mistress. It grated on Alex to know that Glynis had finally agreed to wed him in the wake of her disappointment over D’Arcy.

Glynis came out of the bedchamber and closed the door softly behind her. “Sorcha needs a rest. Bessie will stay with her.”

“Good,” he said, grabbing her wrist. “We need to talk.”

He pulled her up the stairs to the chamber above, which was unoccupied. After sliding the bar across the door, he turned to face her.

“What do ye want, Glynis?”

“I want to marry ye,” Glynis said. “Do ye still want me?”

“I do,” Alex said, though he would be considerably happier about it if he thought her reasons for changing her mind had anything to do with him.

“I do have conditions,” Glynis said.

“Why does this no surprise me?” He folded his arms and narrowed his eyes at her. “And what might these conditions be?”

“The first is that we leave Inveraray Castle at once.”

“I must bid farewell to the chieftain and his family,” Alex said. “But we can be gone in an hour’s time.”

Her shoulders relaxed a bit. Evidently, she was desperate to get away from D’Arcy and put that disappointment behind her.

“What else?” he asked, keeping his voice even.

Her face was strained, and she could not look him in the eye. Whatever this second condition was, it was difficult for her to say it.

And he was certain he would not like it.

“I will no share your bed.”

What? If there was one thing he had been confident of, it was that he pleased her under the blankets. Did she dislike him so much that she would give up the pleasure they shared in bed?

“If all I wanted was a nursemaid, I would hire one. And I believe the chances are good that I could find a pretty one and bed her as well.” He added the last part because he was angry. “I want a wife. In every sense.”

Glynis flushed and bit her lip. She could not truly have expected him to agree to this. He waited to hear what she really wanted.

“I’ll share your bed—but only so long as ye are faithful.” She lifted her serious gray eyes to meet his. “If ye take another woman, I shall never willingly share your bed again.”

“Never willingly?” he said, white-hot anger sending sparks across his vision. What did she think of him? “I’m no the sort of man who forces women.”

“If ye take another woman, then ye must agree to give me a separate house to live in,” she said. “A small cottage would do.”

The anger welled in his chest, threatening to explode. Nay, he would not live as his parents did.

“Do ye agree?” She held his gaze as if she were trying to see into his soul for the truth.

He pulled her against him and covered her mouth with his. He kissed her with all the fury and passion pent up inside of him, until she was like liquid fire in his arms. When he pulled away, her eyes were dazed—just as he wanted.

“Ye want me to make love to ye,” he said, “until ye hear the blood thundering in your ears and see the flashes of light as I make ye come again and again.”

Her breath was ragged, and her lips parted and soft from his kisses.

“Say it,” he demanded.

“I do,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Ye want me to be your husband and to share my bed every night. Say it!”

“I do.”

He kissed her again until she moaned in his mouth and swayed against him. By God, she would want him and only him. His anger still was not spent when he released her a second time.

“I’ll agree to a full marriage, then,” she said, primly running her hands over her gown to smooth it. “If we decide after a year that we do not suit, we’ll part with no hard feelings. Unless, of course, ye take another woman before then, in which case, it will be as I said before.”

It was time to settle this between them.

Alex pulled his dirk from his belt and heard her suck in her breath as he used it to cut a strip of cloth from the bottom of his shirt. He grasped her hand and interlocked his fingers with hers. Holding their hands up between them, he locked eyes with her as he wound the strip of cloth around their wrists three times.

“I take ye as my wife, Glynis MacNeil, daughter of Gilleonan MacNeil of Barra, and I will be your husband.” Alex paused, and then he said in a deliberate voice, “’Til death, Glynis. Did ye hear that? ’Til death.”

Under Highland tradition, a man who was unhappy with a marriage could return the woman to her father, along with her dowry, or tochar, at the end of a year. This was most commonly done when the woman failed to conceive, but if there was a child, the child was considered legitimate. Unfortunately, the woman could quit the marriage as well.

Alex could not hold Glynis to more than a year without a priest—and priests were few and far between in the Highlands—but he was demanding it anyway.

She pressed her lips into a tight line and glared at him.

“You’ve done this before,” he said. “Ye know what to say.”

When he saw the flash of hurt in her eyes, he regretted bringing up her prior marriage. But for reasons he did not understand himself, he was far too angry to apologize.

“All right,” she said between clenched teeth. “I take ye as my husband, Alexander MacDonald, and I promise to be your wife.”

“Until death,” he finished for her.

“Until death,” she said, her eyes shooting daggers at him. “Or until ye stray, as we both know ye will.”

“Don’t mistake me for Clanranald, for I will hold ye to your promise,” Alex said.

“I was no the first to break my promise with him, and I won’t be with you either,” she said. “But if ye take another woman, I’ll never share your bed again.”

“I’ll do my damnedest to make sure ye can never bring yourself to tell me nay,” he said.

She gasped when he pulled her hard against him again. As he leaned down, she made a high-pitched sound at the back of her throat, then her eyes fluttered closed, and she tilted her head back. He stopped just short of her parted lips.

“Pack up your things,” he said. “I promised ye that we would leave at once, and I am a man of my word.”

CHAPTER 32

Why was Alex so furious with her? She had agreed to the full marriage. And right now, she wanted the marriage rights quite badly.

“We could stay the night,” Alex said, his breath tickling her lips. “But only if ye are willing to release me from my promise to leave at once.”

He was supporting her back with one strong arm while he ran his other hand up her side. When he brushed the side of her breast, she bit her lip to keep from sighing aloud. How she’d missed his touch.

“If this is what ye want, ye must tell me,” he said.

Why did he insist that she say it? Because she had pricked his pride, suggesting he might force her one day if she refused. She should not have said it, for she knew he was not like that. She remembered how her first husband had pushed her back on the bed and taken her virginity with little preamble—and certainly without waiting for her permission.

But Alex demanded that she give her consent explicitly. It was hard to confess that she wanted him, for it forced her to admit that this was not purely a selfless act to protect a child. Nor was it merely a practical decision to choose a husband before her father did it for her.

“Aye, this is what I want,” she whispered. “I want you, Alex MacDonald.”

He walked her backward until the bed was against her back. She was grateful for the support because her knees grew weak as he ran kisses down her throat. When he pressed his warm lips to the hollow above her collarbone, a sigh escaped her. His breath on her skin made her breasts ache. When his hands finally covered them, she closed her eyes.

When Alex kissed her mouth again, their tongues moved in a primal rhythm that filled her with longing. She twined her arms around his neck and slid her fingers through his hair. When he pulled away, her body followed, pressing against him.

“Do we delay our departure and stay the night?” he asked in a voice rough with desire.

“Aye,” she said again. “Take me to bed.”

“The right answer, wife.”

Alex swept aside the bed curtains, sat her on the high bed, and lit the candle on the table beside it. He was often playful in bed, but there was nothing lighthearted about the way he was looking at her now.

“Your gown,” he said in a strained voice. “Take it off.”

Glynis swallowed and decided to start with her shoes. She slipped one off and then the other, letting them drop with soft thuds in the silent room. As she eased her stocking down her calf, she looked up and saw Alex’s chest rise and fall in slow, deep breaths.

He was staring at her so fiercely that her fingers shook a little as she removed her head covering and unwound her hair from the coil Bessie had pinned up only a short time ago. After unfastening the first two hooks at the back of her gown, she dropped her arms.

“I can’t do the rest myself.”

Alex’s jaw was clenched tight, but he gave her a curt nod, so she slid down from the bed. She was so tense that she felt light-headed as she took the three steps to reach him and turned around. When his fingers grazed the back of her neck, she drew in a sharp breath at the shock of his touch.

A little of her confidence returned when she realized that Alex, who was usually disconcertingly adept at removing women’s clothing, was fumbling with the hooks. Once he had them undone, he dragged the gown off her shoulders and let it fall in a pool around her feet.

His lips were gentle as he brushed soft kisses against her neck, but his hands gripped her upper arms so tightly it almost hurt. When she leaned back against him, she felt his solid heat through her thin shift. He kissed her hair and the side of her face as he eased her shift off her shoulders. She felt the cool air on her breasts for an instant before he held them in his hands.

“Ah, Glynis.” His breath was hot in her ear. “I was going to die if ye held me to my promise and made me wait.”

He scraped his teeth along her shoulder as he slid one hand beneath the shift that still clung to her hips. He groaned when his hand cupped her between her legs. Then pleasure shot through her as his fingers dipped and explored.

Her legs grew weak, and she sagged against him as heat pooled low and heavy in her belly. But then he began to move against her, pressing his hard shaft into her, and she strained against him.

She turned in his arms, wanting his kiss. His clothes were rough against her sensitive nipples. Gripping her hips, he held her tight against him as he gave her long, deep kisses.

She tore her mouth away. “Alex, I must lie down.”

He threw the bedclothes back with one hand, and then swept her off her feet and laid her on the bed in one easy motion. Before she could blink, Alex had unfastened his plaid and pulled his shirt over his head.

Glynis watched the muscles of his back and thighs as he stretched and leaned over to remove his boots. Then he stood upright facing her in all his glory. Ach, he was magnificent. The candlelight played across every contour of his muscular arms and torso. Glynis swallowed as her gaze moved down from his chest to his flat belly and full staff.

When she lifted her gaze back to his face, Alex’s eyes scorched her skin.

Her heart pounded against her chest and her breath came fast as he climbed onto the bed. Anticipation sparked through her as he reached for her. At once, she was enfolded in his heat, under his weight, and drowning in reckless passion. His hands were everywhere—and every part of her ached for his touch. She tried to catch her breath as he kissed her eyebrows, her cheeks, her jaw, her ear. As he worked his way down her throat with his lips and tongue, she tilted her chest upward.

“Aye,” she breathed when his hands covered her breasts and found her nipples. She heard herself making incoherent sounds as he pressed openmouthed kisses down her breastbone while teasing her nipples with his thumbs. She thought she might die from the pleasure—and that was before he dragged his tongue across her breast to her nipple.

She clenched her fingers in Alex’s hair as he first circled her nipple with his tongue and then drew it into his mouth. He suckled her breast as if his whole being was focused on drawing sensations from the depth of her soul. It was too much. She clawed at his shoulders, not certain herself if she was begging him to stop or begging him not to.

Then he ran his tongue along the underside of her breast and pressed kisses over her ribs. His hair left a trail of sparks as it brushed across her skin. Anticipation grew by leaps and bounds when his kisses moved lower, down her belly and over her hip, and he wrapped his arm around her thigh.

At last, he rested his hand on her mound and found the sensitive spot between her legs with his thumb. She sank into the whirl of sensations. What this man did to her!

She tensed when she felt the heat of his breath and his tongue move close to where his hand was. He’d done this before, but she still couldn’t quite believe it. She dragged her head up from the bed. Her breath went shallow as he moved his hand away to kiss her between her legs. Then he shot her a sizzling look that made her insides squeeze.

“Ye know ye like this,” he said in a low voice that vibrated through her.

Like it? She loved it. She dropped her head back down on the bed. If she had to spend some time in purgatory for this, she was willing.

She sucked in her breath as he ran his tongue over that same sensitive spot. Oh, my. She clenched the bedclothes in her hands and gave herself over to the storm of sensations as Alex licked and sucked and ran his tongue over and into her. She tried to be quiet, but sighs and moans and a kind of pleading sound came from her throat.

She tossed her head from side to side, but Alex was relentless. When she felt herself rising to a peak, he clutched her body tighter. He would not let her move away from him until her body spasmed into an explosion of pleasure.

She shuddered when he ran his tongue lightly up her stomach. When he stretched out beside her, she turned into him, still shaken from the intensity of her release, and wrapped her arms around him. She buried her face in his neck.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for days,” he said, as he ran his fingers up and down her side and her back.

“That felt so good that I’m certain it must be verra sinful,” she said against his skin.

She felt the low rumble of his chuckle. “Nothing is sinful between a man and wife, but if it pleases ye to think it is, then I won’t argue with ye.”

When she scooted closer, his shaft pressed against her belly, reminding her of his need. And just like that, she wanted him all over again. She pulled him into a deep kiss. Alex groaned in her mouth as she rubbed her palm up his shaft.

He needed no more encouragement. When he rolled her on her back, she wrapped her legs around him. She closed her eyes against the rush of pleasure as he slid inside her. When she opened her eyes again, he held her head between his hands and stared down at her.

“I missed being with ye like this,” Alex said, as if the confession was torn from him against his will.

“I missed ye too.”

With their eyes locked on each other, he started moving in and out. His breathing was ragged, and his face strained. She knew Alex prided himself on his control, but she sensed that he was barely hanging on to it—and she wanted it to snap. She wanted to feel his raw need, to know that he was as affected as she was.

As he moved faster and deeper, she gripped his shoulders and wrapped her legs more tightly around him. She had so many emotions swirling inside her—desire, affection, hope, longing—that she felt as if her chest might burst.

I love you. The words were in her mind and almost on her lips.

Waves of blinding pleasure coursed through her as he thrust inside her again and again. He cried her name as he drove deep inside her one last time.

Then he collapsed on top of her, his weight heavy but reassuring. He was hers. At least for now, he was hers.

After a short while, he rolled to his side, bringing her with him. Her limbs felt limp, as if they would bend in the waves like seaweed. She lay with her head on his chest and his heart thundering in her ear.

Something profound had happened, and it had altered her forever. It wasn’t that she had agreed to wed him, though that would certainly change her life. God help her, but there was no avoiding it—she had fallen in love with him. Was she alone in this, or had Alex felt as much as she did when he was inside her?

Alex lay on his back with one arm about her and his other hand holding hers on his chest. Glynis watched his profile while he stared at the ceiling.

“What are ye thinking?” she finally asked.

“That it’s strange to be married without Connor, Ian, and Duncan knowing it,” Alex said.

She swallowed back her disappointment. “Ye are close to them, aren’t ye?”

“Aye. The four of us have been through everything together,” he said with a smile in his voice. “They are the first ones I will tell.”

“What about your parents?”

He blew his breath out. “I’ll tell them when I see them.”

Would his parents not be pleased with the marriage? Did they have someone else in mind for him?

Alex turned toward her and cradled the side of her face with his hand. “We shall wed properly when we return to Skye,” he said, with his eyes intent on hers. “I’ll send word to your father. As soon as he arrives, we’ll say our pledges again before witnesses and have a great wedding feast at Dunscaith Castle.”

“I’ll meet your parents at this wedding feast?” she asked. “What are they like?”

“We can talk about my parents later,” he said, as he brought his lips to hers.

* * *

It was not like Glynis to go back on her word. All the same, Alex would not be content until he had a formal marriage contract with her father, and they had said their pledges before a dozen of their clansmen. If Alex could find a priest, all the better.

While they made love, his anger and resentment had burned away in the hot flame of desire. He was so lost in his passion for Glynis that nothing else mattered. And then after, as she lay in his arms, happiness took told of him for long moments, blinding him to truths he should not let himself forget.

But with the dawn, his caution returned with his resentment.

Alex knew he had no right to resent that Glynis only agreed to wed him after she learned D’Arcy was not offering her marriage. Nor should it have angered him that Glynis saw him as the least offensive of undesirable choices, for Alex had made that very argument himself. And if she also did it because she wanted to be a mother to his daughter, he should be glad of that.

And yet, all these things ate at him.

Alex had not wanted to marry any more than she did. But when he decided to, Glynis MacNeil was his first and his only choice. No one else would do.

And that troubled him most of all.

CHAPTER 33

Poor Bessie had shown herself to be a Lowlander by spending much of the long sail with her head over the side. While Glynis tucked a blanket around the sleeping maid, she heard Alex laughing and talking with the Campbell men who were sailing them to Skye.

The Campbell chieftain had provided a boat to take them home, and Alex had persuaded the Campbell men sailing it to let him take the rudder. Under his sure hand, the boat glided over the water and around the rocks as smoothly as a fairy flying through trees in a forest.

Glynis bit her lip and fixed her gaze on the Isle of Skye ahead on the horizon. Alex had not laughed with her once since they left Inveraray Castle days before. From the moment she had told him she would be his wife, he had lost his easy cheerfulness.

Clearly, Alex did not want this marriage. He needed a wife—or rather, a mother for his daughter—but he was not happy about it. She should have taken heed from her first conversation with him back on Barra. Ye are quite safe from finding wedded bliss with me.

Wedded bliss, indeed. Misery seemed more the way of it. What had she got herself into?

Glynis sat back down next to Sorcha and combed the child’s windblown hair with her fingers. When Sorcha smiled at her, she was reminded that the marriage did have its good side. It brought her motherhood, a precious gift she had thought she would be denied. And Alex did not constantly criticize her and expect her to be other than what she was, as both Magnus and her stepmother had. He would protect her with his life, no doubt of that.

But Alex was bound to break her heart. When Magnus took other women, it had hurt her pride, but that was all. It would be different with Alex. When they lay together, he not only gave her pleasure—though there was plenty of that, to be sure—he showed her parts of herself she had not known before. After what they had shared, she could not bear to know he was going to another woman’s bed.

Because she loved him. God help her.

When Alex turned his sea-green eyes on her, the laughter left his face, and her heart sank. He gave the rudder to one of the other men, crossed the boat to sit beside her, and took Sorcha into his lap.

“The land to our right is the Sleat Peninsula of Skye.” Alex rested his hand on Glynis’s shoulder and tilted his head down to hers as he pointed. “And the castle ye see there is Dunscaith, my chieftain’s castle.”

Glynis’s body felt pulled to his. She longed to lean into him—but she did not.

“Dunscaith got its name from Scáthach, the warrior queen who had her legendary school of heroes on the verra spot where our chieftain’s castle now stands,” Alex said, speaking first in French for Sorcha and then in Gaelic. “Those mountains ye see beyond the castle are the Cuillins, which are named for Cúchulainn, the most famous of the heroes Scáthach trained.”

Glynis could not help smiling, for she recognized the start of one of his stories. She added Alex’s storytelling to her list of good things that the marriage brought her.

“Now, Scáthach would only train the bravest and most skilled young warriors. To prove himself worthy, a man first had to penetrate her fortress, which had many defenses, including magical ones. Cúchulainn traveled here from Ireland as a young man, after the father of the lass he loved said he would only agree to their marriage if Cúchulainn was trained as a warrior by Scáthach.

“Young Cúchulainn succeeded in getting inside the castle and was accepted by the warrior queen. Later, as part of his training, he helped Scáthach subdue a neighboring female chieftain who was causing Scáthach trouble. In the process of fulfilling this task, Cúchulainn had a child with the woman. And though his heart was always with the young lass he loved back in Ireland, he also became friendly with Scáthach’s daughter. Unfortunately, he had to kill the daughter’s husband in a duel, which I’m sure he regretted. I believe it was after the daughter that Cúchulainn became friendly with Scáthach herself.”

“What kind of story is this to tell to a wee girl?” Glynis interrupted.

“I can’t change the story,” Alex said, lifting his shoulders. “’Tis the legend of our castle.”

“The MacDonalds would have legends of philanderers and call them heroes,” Glynis said, folding her arms.

“Cúchulainn was no a married man at the time.” Alex cleared his throat and began again. “When Cúchulainn returned to Ireland, the lass’s father refused to let them marry, although Cúchulainn had fulfilled the condition. Ye see, the father never intended to allow the marriage and believed he had set an impossible condition. Well, that was a mistake for certain. Cúchulainn captured the father’s fortress, took the man’s treasure—and his life—and then he married his love.”

Glynis had been lost in the story and was startled when Alex stopped speaking. They were close enough to Dunscaith now that she could see the guards on the walls.

“I’ll tell ye more stories about Scáthach and Cúchulainn later,” Alex said to Sorcha. “But now, it’s time for ye to meet the Clan MacDonald.”

As the boat pulled beside the sea gate, Glynis stood to thank the Campbell men. They were anxious to return to their homes and had refused Alex’s offer of hospitality. One of them, however, insisted on carrying Bessie into the castle, as she was still quite ill from the journey.

Alex picked Sorcha up in one arm and held his other hand out to Glynis. When she looked into his grim face, her heart sank lower still.

“Don’t fret. They never thought I’d find a woman willing to put up with me,” Alex said, but his humor seemed forced. “They will all be verra pleased to see ye.”

If only Alex were pleased himself, she wouldn’t care about the rest of the MacDonalds. She felt as if she were a weight tied around his neck.

No sooner had they climbed up the steep stairs into the castle courtyard than Glynis was surrounded by MacDonalds. It seemed to her that all the MacDonald men were extraordinarily tall. She had to tilt her head back to breathe.

In the midst of this sea of strangers, she saw Duncan walking toward them. He nodded at her, and the corners of his mouth went up a fraction in what she took for a smile. On either side of Duncan were two dark-haired, handsome warriors who looked to be brothers.

“Come meet my cousins,” Alex said, pushing her forward with his hand at her back.

Before Alex could introduce her and Sorcha, Glynis heard a familiar bellow come from behind the gathered men. “Alexander Bàn MacDonald!”

Glynis put her hand to her forehead. Nay. That could not be her father.

“Alexander Bàn MacDonald!” This time, the roar cleared a path through the MacDonald warriors like Moses parting the Red Sea—and at the other end of it stood her father. As he strode toward them, Alex set Sorcha down behind him and took Glynis’s hand.

“After stealing my daughter from under my nose and dragging her to God knows where for weeks,” her father shouted, all red in the face, “ye will either be my son-in-law before the day is out, or you’ll be a dead man!”

Glynis flushed to her roots. Why was her father doing this?

“Da, Alex did no—,” she started to explain, but Alex cut her off.

“I beg your forgiveness for stealing your daughter from ye,” Alex said, putting his hand over his heart. “But sometimes a man must act boldly to get the woman he wants.”

Alex was taking the blame for all of this. She might have appreciated the gesture if he’d done it out of affection for her, rather than manly pride.

“I believe ye are aware that your daughter was… disinclined toward marriage,” Alex continued. “So I had no choice but to force her hand by kidnapping her.”

Ach, her father could not have looked more pleased. She felt like a hog caught between two cooks.

“I succeeded in persuading her to take me as her husband,” Alex said, “and we have made a marriage pledge to each other.”

“An alleged hand-fasting with just the two of ye under the stars will not do,” her father said, planting his hands on his hips. “Glynis is a chieftain’s daughter, no a penniless lass. Ye will do this proper, Alexander MacDonald, with a contract, a tochar, and pledges made before both clan chieftains.”

“That is precisely my desire as well, sir,” Alex said.

The two of them were having a fine time trying to outdo the other in their resolve to have her good and properly bound in marriage. Each had his reasons, which had nothing to do with her feelings on the matter.

“The MacDonald chieftain and I have already worked out the agreement,” her father said.

How did her father know she would be returning with Alex, when she herself had no idea? And, by the saints, how long had her father been waiting here? He should have gone home and pretended nothing was amiss. Ach, it was humiliating.

“I’ve been waiting here for weeks,” her father said, confirming her worst fear. “Let’s get this wedding under way!”

One of the two handsome, dark-haired warriors with Duncan stepped forward. “A thousand welcomes to you, Glynis, daughter of Gilleonan MacNeil of Barra,” he said. “I am Connor, chieftain of the MacDonalds of Sleat, and I am most happy to have ye here at Dunscaith Castle.”

After her father’s shouting, she appreciated the chieftain’s formal greeting and replied in kind. “A blessing on the house of the grandson of Hugh MacDonald and great-grandson of the Lord of the Isles.”

The chieftain gestured toward the other dark-haired warrior, who had the bluest eyes Glynis had ever seen. “This is Ian, who is my cousin as well as Alex’s.”

She was introduced in quick succession to a few dozen MacDonalds and then greeted by the few MacNeil men who were here with her father. Her head was spinning when two women had mercy on her and interrupted the greetings. One was small and brisk and dressed in a gown too large for her slender figure, and the other was a lovely redhead who carried two look-alike babes in her arms.

“Come with us.” The small woman smiled as she put her hand at Glynis’s back and took Sorcha’s hand. “I have a chamber ready for ye upstairs. I’ve already seen to your maid, the poor dear.”

Glynis let the two women lead her and Sorcha inside the keep and up the stairs to a tidy bedchamber that smelled of heather.

“We thought ye needed rescuing,” the redhead said, giving Glynis a wide smile. “I’m Sìleas, Ian’s wife.”

“And I’m Ilysa, Duncan’s sister,” the other woman said. “I’ve sent someone to bring up a bit of food and drink. If ye need anything at all, you’ve only to ask.”

Glynis was puzzled as to why Duncan’s sister appeared to be managing the chieftain’s household, but perhaps the chieftain had no close female relative to fill the role in lieu of a wife. It was odd that he didn’t have a wife, though, for a chieftain had an even greater duty than other men to produce heirs.

“Ye know from my father that I’m Glynis,” she said. “And this is Sorcha, Alex’s daughter.”

“I knew ye were Alex’s child the moment I saw ye, Sorcha,” Sìleas said with a soft smile.

Sorcha could not take her eyes off the twins and took a couple of cautious steps toward them.

“This one is Beitris,” Sìleas said, tilting her head toward one of the look-alike babes. “And this one is Alexandra, named for your father.”

When Alexandra grabbed hold of Sorcha’s nose, both babes squealed in delight at her mischief—and Sorcha laughed. Glynis put her hand to her chest. Hearing Sorcha laugh for the first time felt like a small miracle.

“I’m glad Alex found ye,” Ilysa said, after they had talked about the babes for a time. “Frankly, none of us was certain he would show such good judgment.”

“I happened to be the closest woman at hand when he needed a wife,” Glynis said. Realizing she had said too much, she tried to make light of it. “An ràmh is fhaisg air làimh, iomair leis.” The oar that is close at hand, row with it.

“Alex has never had trouble finding women, so I’m sure that wasn’t the reason,” Sìleas said. “Now we’d best get ye ready, for I believe they intend to have this wedding tonight.”

Tonight?

CHAPTER 34

Glynis felt ill. Her stomach hurt, her head throbbed, and dread weighed down on her chest, making it hard to breathe. Although Sìleas and Ilysa were kindness itself, their glowing faces only made Glynis feel worse.

Every time one of them mentioned how delighted they were that Alex had chosen a bride who was so different from “his usual sort,” she wondered how long it would be before he went back to his usual ways and his usual sort.

Bang, bang, bang. Ach, Glynis knew that knock.

“It’s my father.” She jumped to her feet to get to the door first and then slipped outside so that they could speak in private.

“Ye had me worried, lass.” Her father lifted her off her feet in a crushing embrace. That raised her spirits—until he set her back down and said, “Praise God he’s marrying ye. I feared I’d have to kill him.”

“It didn’t happen like ye think, da,” she said. “Alex doesn’t really want me.”

“Ach, that man wants ye,” her father said. “He has since he first saw ye on the beach at Barra.”

She sighed. “What I mean, da, is that he doesn’t want me for a wife. Not truly.”

Her father lifted her chin. “I know I made a mistake with Magnus Clanranald.”

This was the first he had admitted that.

“But Alex sees ye for what ye are, and he likes what he sees,” her father said. “This man is going to love ye, whether he wants to or no.”

Glynis swallowed against the lump in her throat. Even if her father could not be more wrong, it warmed her heart to know that he wanted this for her.

“How did ye know it was Alex I left with?” she asked.

“I watched the two of ye, and I figured ye just needed some time together for this to happen,” he said. “So I let ye both believe I was going to make ye wed that Alain Maclean, though he is even madder than his father Shaggy.”

“Ye did that on purpose?”

“Aye,” her father said, grinning from ear to ear.

She couldn’t believe it! Despite all her efforts to thwart her father’s plans for her—from putting her fate in the hands of a stranger to traveling all the way to Edinburgh—she had ended up doing exactly what he wanted.

“I went home to Barra before coming here to wait for ye,” he said before she could gather herself to shout at him. He stooped to reach into a cloth bag at his feet and pulled a soft blue gown from it. “Your stepmother made ye a new gown to be wed in.”

“It’s lovely!” Glynis said, holding it up. “That was kind of her, truly. Oh, da, I wish I could see the rest of the family.”

“They all miss ye,” her father said. “Tell that new husband of yours to bring ye for a long visit soon.”

Glynis prayed she would not be coming home alone and in shame again.

* * *

Alex stood at the front of the hall, flanked by Connor and Duncan on one side and by the MacNeil chieftain and Ian on the other, waiting for his bride to make her appearance. And waiting. When Glynis’s father took a step, looking as if he meant to fetch her and drag her down the stairs by her hair, Alex grabbed his arm in an iron grip.

“Give her time.” Alex locked eyes with her father and did not let go of him until the chieftain nodded and stepped back.

When the voices in the hall hushed, Alex turned and sucked in his breath at the sight of Glynis at the far end of the hall. She wore a soft blue gown that drew attention to her slender, elegant figure and flowed about her as she walked. With her rich brown hair pulled up in a crown of flowers and ribbons, and then cascading down her back, she looked like a wood nymph come from the forest to enchant him.

But beneath her crown of flowers, Glynis’s face was strained. Her wide gray eyes had the same look of panic Alex had seen in a wounded doe’s as it lay on the ground with an arrow in its side. Glynis hesitated at every step, looking as if she might bolt if someone made a loud noise. It seemed to take her forever to cross the length of the hall. Finally, she stood before him.

Glynis had not changed her mind. But it had been close.

* * *

Alex was breathtakingly handsome, tall and striking in his saffron shirt and plaid with greens that matched his eyes. Most of the people gathered in the hall—particularly her own clansmen—must be wondering how such a skinny, difficult lass had come to be the one that Alex chose to wed.

Glynis darted glances left and right as she traversed the endless hall, a different question dragging her steps. How many women in the room had Alex slept with? Two? Three? A dozen?

“Ye look beautiful,” Alex said, playing the part of bridegroom, when she finally reached the end of the gauntlet. “I believe we sign the contract first.”

By we, he meant her father, of course. All the same, Alex took her with him to the small table where the contract had been laid out. She had learned to read, but she was too overwrought to make sense of any of the words.

“Is it acceptable to ye?” Alex asked, which was kind, but pointless, since her father had already signed it.

She could not get a word through her throat, so she nodded. When Alex signed, his signature was big and bold with a flare, just like he was. She felt like a skinny, brown mouse next to him.

After she and Alex returned to their places, the two chieftains made speeches about a glorious union, fertility, and such. She saw no priest, so it appeared Alex had not succeeded in finding one on short notice. Glynis ignored the speeches and closed her eyes to say her own prayer.

Please, God, give me a few months with him before he breaks my heart.

“Glynis!” When she heard her father say her name, she opened her eyes to find both chieftains staring at her. “Say your pledge,” her father hissed.

Her heart hammered so loudly she thought they must hear it.

“I…” Her throat was too dry, and she had to stop to swallow. It took her three tries, but she got the words out. She fixed her gaze on the floor as she waited for Alex to say his vows.

He was silent. The longer Alex did not speak, the more his silence seemed to expand and fill the hall. When Glynis risked a sideways glance at him, he was staring at her with a fiercely grim expression on his face.

Alex grabbed her by the wrist. She had to struggle to keep her feet under her as he proceeded to haul her out of the hall with his long-legged strides.

“O shluagh!” she whispered. What had she done to deserve this?

CHAPTER 35

Alex dragged Glynis into a large bedchamber that she assumed must be the chieftain’s because it adjoined the hall, though it was plainly furnished and the walls had no decoration at all. After sitting her down in a chair, Alex pulled another up opposite so that they sat face-to-face with no more than a foot between them.

“Glynis, I cannot go ahead with this marriage when ye look as if you’re going to your own hanging,” Alex said. “We’ll end this right now if it makes ye this unhappy to be my wife.”

She was too shocked to speak. After doing everything he could to persuade her to wed him, now he wanted to release her from her pledge?

“I hoped ye would come to see me as a man ye could be content with and reconcile yourself to the marriage,” he said. “But it appears ye cannot, and I will no raise my daughter in a house filled with anger and unhappiness.”

Glynis’s heart was pounding so hard that her chest hurt.

“It won’t be easy convincing your father that I haven’t taken ye to bed and given him cause to force the marriage,” he said with a resigned sigh, “but I will.”

She did not want to return to her father’s house to be put on display for an endless stream of unsavory suitors again. “What about all those people waiting out there for us?”

Alex dismissed them all with a wave of his hand. “I know I pressed ye hard to do this, but you’re a stubborn lass who knows her own mind. So tell me, why did ye agree to wed me?”

Glynis paused to lick her lips. She was unsure whether to tell him the truth, but she had nothing else to say. “Because I feared ye would wed Catherine, and I believed she would harm Sorcha.”

Instead of dismissing her accusation as foolishness or demanding proof, Alex simply looked at her steadily and waited for her to explain herself.

“Because Sorcha is silent, she senses things that others miss.”

“Aye, I’ve noticed that,” Alex said.

“I found Catherine taking Sorcha out in the loch where no one could see,” Glynis said. “I could tell that Sorcha was frightened to death of her.” She told him the rest of what happened, though there was not much more to tell.

“One brings danger,” he muttered as he ran his hands through his hair. “I had no notion Catherine would want to harm Sorcha.”

Glynis was used to her father—and everyone else—dismissing her judgment. It touched her that Alex did not question her perception of what had happened at the loch that day.

“Well, I was right about one thing,” Alex said with a sad smile. “Ye would be a good mother to Sorcha.”

“A child alone cannot bind us,” Glynis said, blinking hard to keep back tears. “As ye said, being a wife is more than being a nursemaid.”

“I wanted ye for myself as well,” he said, and touched the back of his fingers to her cheek. “I know it is important to ye that your husband is faithful. Is that part of what is making ye so miserable about the prospect of being married to me?”

Glynis dropped her gaze to her hands folded in her lap and nodded.

“Then I would give ye my promise that so long as we share a bed as man and wife, I’ll take no other.”

When he first spoke of marriage, he had only promised to be discreet in his affairs. He was willing to give her the promise she wanted now, but could she trust him? Even if Alex meant it now, would he still mean it in a month?

“I can’t do more than give ye my word on it.” He got to his feet and looked down at her. “I wish that were enough.”

If Alex had shouted at her and stormed off, Glynis might not have stopped him. But instead, he leaned down and kissed her cheek, a tender gesture that left her blinking back tears again. Then he turned and walked quietly toward the door.

As Alex said, he was the best of her choices, by far. But more than that, he was the only man she wanted. Was she brave enough to take the risk that he would hurt her? Was she strong enough to survive if he disappointed her? All Glynis knew for certain was that she could not bear the thought of him wedding another.

“Alex!”

When he turned around, his face, which was normally so full of humor, looked ragged.

“Ye were right. I did not fulfill my side of the bargain,” she said. “Since I said I would wed ye, I should not have done it begrudgingly. That was wrong of me, and I’m sorry.”

“Ye needn’t apologize,” Alex said, sounding tired. “I’ll go tell the others now, and I’ll have someone bring ye supper so ye don’t have to face them.”

When he started to leave again, she sprang to her feet. “Wait. Ye don’t understand me.”

“That’s true enough,” he said, giving her a bittersweet smile.

“What I mean is, I think we should marry,” she said in a rush. “I’ll make the best of it.”

He gave a dry laugh. “Make the best of something ye hate? Nay, that’s no good enough.”

“I want to marry ye, Alex,” she said, and it was the truth. With all her heart, she wanted him. “And I will try to trust ye.”

“Are ye certain ye want to go ahead with this?” His expression was solemn. “I told ye, I don’t want a trial marriage. My daughter already lost whoever raised her until now.”

Alex had told her that he wanted her for himself as well, and she would hang on to that. Though he would not be marrying at all if not for Sorcha, he must care for her a little.

Glynis quelled her doubts and nodded.

“All I ask is that ye make a peaceful home for me and my daughter.” Alex held out his hand, and when she took it he gave her a genuine smile. “Duncan has been entertaining everyone with his pipes, but let’s no keep them waiting any longer.”

* * *

“Ready?” Alex asked, as they stood together just outside the hall. He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, then flung the door open.

The buzz of voices died, and every head turned toward them. In another moment, Duncan abandoned the mournful strain he had been playing and began a lively tune that sounded like pure happiness. When the MacDonalds broke into wild cheers, signaling their approval of the marriage, Glynis felt herself blush with pleasure.

Hope flooded her heart.

She smiled up at Alex as they walked hand in hand to the front of the hall. This time, they said their vows in strong voices and without hesitation. Then Alex gave her a kiss that caused the crowd to hoot and shout again. As soon as he released her, Sorcha, who had been standing with Sìleas and Ilysa, threw her arms around Glynis’s waist.

And suddenly, Glynis had both a husband and a daughter. With Alex’s arm about her shoulders, her new daughter at her side, and all the MacDonalds giving her such a warm welcome, Glynis set her doubts aside and decided to enjoy her day of happiness.

Alex’s clansmen came up one after another to wish them well, giving them the traditional greetings. Saoghal fada dhuibh. Long life to you. A h-uile là sona dhuibh gun là idir dona dhuibh. May every day be happy for you without a single bad day.

Alex was laughing at something his cousin Ian had said when Glynis felt him go rigid beside her.

“So, ’tis true that ye let a lass catch ye,” a deep voice called out.

When Glynis turned to see who had spoken, she felt as if she were looking into the future and seeing Alex thirty years hence. The tall, fair-haired warrior could be none other than Alex’s father. Ach, it was a sin for a man to still be so handsome at his age.

“I caught her, Father,” Alex said, his voice as stiff as his back. “I am a lucky man.”

Alex said it with a fierceness that made it sound more like a challenge than an expression of good fortune.

“Ah, ye are a pretty lass,” his father said, giving Glynis a wink and taking her hands.

It was easy to see where Alex got his charm, but the older man had a hardness in his eyes that Glynis had only seen in Alex when he fought—and right now.

When his father leaned down to kiss her, Alex put his arm out to stop him.

“’Tis past time ye did your duty and wed,” his father said, meeting Alex’s glare. “A man needs an heir.”

A dark-haired woman broke through the group surrounding them and threw her arms around Alex. “Is it true? Ye are taking a wife at long last?”

“Aye, Mother,” Alex said in a strained voice, as he gently pushed her away. “What are the two of ye doing here?”

“We heard that the MacNeil claimed ye had run off with his daughter and was waiting for ye here,” his father said. “And then our chieftain sent word today that ye were here with the lass.”

Alex shot a glare at Connor.

“We couldn’t miss our only son’s wedding,” his mother said, “so we came at once.”

“Ye came together?” Alex asked. “On the same ship?”

“There wasn’t much time,” his mother said.

“I’m pleased ye can join us for the wedding feast,” Alex said, though he did not sound pleased at all. “Mother, Father, this is my bride, Glynis, daughter of Gilleonan of Barra, chieftain of the MacNeils.”

“I didn’t think there was a lass in all the Highlands who could capture my son,” his father said with another broad wink. “But ye proved me wrong.”

“What a horrid thing to say to a new bride,” his mother snapped. “I can only hope our son is a better husband than ye were.”

Glynis was beginning to understand where Alex’s aversion to marriage came from—and why he was so set on having a peaceful home.

“However ye did it, dear,” his mother said, patting Glynis’s arm, “I praise God, for I feared I would never see a grandchild of mine.”

“Then ye will be glad to hear my other news.” Alex drew Sorcha out from where she had been hiding behind him and rested his hands on her shoulders. “This is my daughter, Sorcha.”

His mother shrieked and threw her hands up in the air. Before his father and mother could close in on the poor child, Alex lifted Sorcha in his arms. He spoke in French to her—without translating into Gaelic for once—then turned his attention back to his parents.

“Sorcha hasn’t chosen to speak yet,” he said in a firm tone. “She will in her own good time, so don’t press her.”

What a family. Glynis suddenly realized that she had never asked Alex where they would be living. By the saints, she hoped it was not with his parents.

* * *

Alex felt as if he were suffocating. His mother and father were in the same room, his bride was looking as if she’d rather be at the bottom of the sea, and his daughter was cowering against his chest with her hands covering her face.

His parents’ arrival made him remember every reason he had never wanted to marry.

CHAPTER 36

After the food had been taken away and the old and young began leaving for their beds, Alex’s friends gathered around to tell Glynis tales and jokes about the groom. They were all drinking and enjoying themselves considerably, as men did on such occasions. Her new husband, however, appeared to be enjoying his drink a good deal more than the jokes.

“’Tis a special day for me as well,” Duncan said. “’Tis not often a man gets a present on his friend’s wedding day.”

“What present is that?” Alex asked.

“Why, that sweet galley we stole from Shaggy belongs to me now,” Duncan said. “Don’t ye recall our wager?”

“What wager?” Alex asked.

“I bet ye would have a wife within half a year,” Duncan said. “And here ye are wed, when it’s only been three months.”

“Ach, no!” Alex said. “Ye wouldn’t take her from me.”

“I would,” Duncan said with a slow smile.

“By the saints, I hate to lose that boat,” Alex said. “Ye know how much I love her.”

Glynis pressed her lips together. Must Alex announce to his entire clan that he favored a stolen boat over his new wife?

“I’d say ye got the better end of the wager,” Duncan said, and turned to her. “Alex is a lucky man. I wish ye every happiness with the damned scoundrel.”

Glynis pasted a smile on her face as the men laughed.

Then Duncan turned and collected coins from all the other men. It appeared that every one of them had wagered against Alex marrying.

“Ye look good for a dead man,” a small, wiry man said, as he slapped Alex on the back.

“What are ye saying, Tait?” Alex asked.

“Didn’t Alex tell us all he’d be dead before he’d be wed?” Tait shouted to the others.

Connor grabbed Tait by the back of his shirt as if he were a cat. “Ye know what a joker Alex is.”

But Tait was undaunted. “If Alex said it once, he said it a hundred times: ‘Better to tie an anchor to my leg and toss me into the sea than to tie me to a wife. Better to beat me with a…’”

The sound of Tait’s voice faded as Connor marched him off.

Ian gave Glynis a smile that she was certain had stopped a few lasses’ hearts. “We didn’t have an opportunity to go off with the groom the night before the wedding, as is customary. Do ye mind if we take your husband for a wee bit before we give him to ye for good?”

“Or for bad!” one of the other men called out to another round of laughter.

* * *

Married. How had it happened?

Alex took another long pull from the jug of whiskey. From the time he was a wee lad, he’d vowed he’d never do it.

He had a wife. Despite the fact that he’d spent the last fortnight cajoling, charming, seducing, and almost begging Glynis to agree to marry him, it was hard to fathom.

“Be brave,” Ian said, squeezing his shoulder.

“What if I can’t do this?” Alex said, desperation rising in his throat.

“Is it the basic instruction ye need?” Duncan asked with a straight face. “What goes where and such?”

“I don’t mean in bed—I know how to please a woman.” Alex punched Duncan’s arm, then turned to Ian. “It’s all the rest of the time. What do I do with her?”

“Ye do the same as ye always do—the difference is that ye have someone to talk to about it.” Ian grinned. “Whether ye want to talk about it or no.”

Alex took another long drink while the others laughed.

“Glynis seems a good sort,” Connor said. “I’m sure ye have nothing to worry about.”

Worried? He glanced over at Glynis, with Sorcha asleep against her shoulder. He was petrified that he would fail them.

Oh, God, no. Alex closed his eyes as his father pushed Ian aside to sit next to him and put his arm around him. Ge b’e thig gun chuireadh, suidhidh e gun iarraidh. Who comes uninvited will sit down unbidden.

Ian, Connor, and Duncan had sensed he was sinking below the waves and had dragged him to a corner of the hall for a private talk. Alex did not want to speak with anyone else—particularly his father.

“Don’t ever love a woman,” his father said, staring at Alex’s mother across the hall, “or she’ll tear your heart out and feed it to the fish.”

* * *

Sorcha yawned and leaned against Glynis’s shoulder. Glynis kissed the top of her head, pleased to have the comfort of the child’s presence. Across the hall, she saw Sìleas enter on light feet and come straight toward them.

“Sorcha can sleep with us and our two babes,” Sìleas said, holding her hand out to Sorcha. “The twins are already upstairs with their nursemaid.”

“Sorcha isn’t used to strangers—,” Glynis started to say before Sorcha bounded to her feet and took Sìleas’s hand.

“It’s your wedding night,” Sileas said with a soft smile. “Sorcha will enjoy being with the twins.”

Glynis felt bereft without her. Alex’s mother came to sit beside her, which was unlikely to cheer her up. His mother must have been beautiful before lines of disappointment etched the skin around her eyes and mouth.

“Alex has a good heart,” his mother said, patting Glynis’s hand. “Unfortunately, he has bad blood from his father.”

His mother was slurring her words. Were all the MacDonalds drunkards?

“To the one man who could tame my wild daughter!” her father shouted across the room, as he lifted his cup high—proving that the MacDonalds had nothing on the MacNeils when it came to drink.

Glynis closed her eyes and wished she were anywhere but at her wedding.

Glynis could tell that the drunker the men became, the more colorful were their stories. Memories of her first wedding swirled through her head and weighed down on her chest. Magnus was not the sort of man to be sensitive about a lass’s first time, and drunk he was worse.

Glynis stood, intent on slipping out of the hall and up the stairs to the bedchamber Ilysa had prepared for them—and barring the door when she got there.

But before she took two steps, one of the men shouted, “Alex, your bride is tired of waiting for ye. Time for the bedding!”

CHAPTER 37

Alex did not remember his wedding night.

God help him, he was a bastard. A useless man. A poor excuse for a husband. And his head hurt like the devil. Oh, Jesus, take me now. What had he been thinking?

His mouth was dry, he had sand in his eyes, and he was still drunk, but he had this blinding headache. And worst of all was the sinking feeling in his stomach that came from knowing he had fooked up badly. As awful as he felt, he rolled over toward his bride, intending to make up for his lack of attention with a bout of morning lovemaking.

He stretched his arm out and felt around. But his bride was not in the bed.

Alex crawled out of bed and poured the pitcher of water into the basin. He splashed water on his face, and when that did not do the job, he stuck his head in the basin and closed his eyes. God’s bones, he felt ill. And it was going to get worse.

Alex spent the next hour searching the castle high and low for Glynis—while trying to avoid telling anyone that he had already lost his wife. He finally found her in one of the boats pulled up on the shore. She was sitting as straight as an arrow with her arms crossed over her chest, a grim look on her face, and her eyes fixed on the sea.

Glynis did not turn to look at him as he climbed into the boat.

“What are ye doing here?” he asked after a while.

“I’m waiting to leave,” she said. “I want to put our wedding night behind me as soon as possible.”

He had slept through his wedding night. God help him, because the bedding was the only part about being a husband that Alex had been certain he could do well.

Glynis just sat there with her arms folded and her mouth clamped shut again. At least she didn’t shout and throw things like his mother. He considered pointing out to her that their true wedding night had been after they had made their vows alone to each other—and he’d acquitted himself quite well. But he thought better of it.

Just when he thought she might never speak again, Glynis said, “Ye never told me where we will live.”

“Well, that is something I wanted to discuss with ye.”

“Don’t pretend I have a choice, and ye haven’t already decided,” she said with her gaze still fixed on the horizon.

He drew in a deep breath and reminded himself that she was used to having her opinions ignored. Perhaps this gave him an opportunity to make up lost ground.

“My father’s lands will be mine one day, so there is good reason for us to live there.” Alex thought her back went stiffer, though he didn’t see how that was possible. “But Connor needs a man to go to North Uist, where our clansmen have been living at the mercy of his pirating uncles.”

Alex wanted to go there. Fighting the pirates appealed to him, of course, and living with either of his parents was his own vision of hell. But even more than that, he wanted to take on the responsibility of securing North Uist for his clan.

“Before I left, I told Connor that when I returned I would go live on North Uist and bring order to the island,” he said. “But that was before I had a wife and daughter to consider. ’Tis far more dangerous there than on my father’s lands, so I’m inclined to ask Connor to send Duncan instead.”

Glynis slanted her eyes at him. “I’m no frail lass, like the sort ye knew at court or in France.”

“I didn’t say ye were, but ye are my responsibility now.”

“North Uist is a short sail from Barra, so I doubt it’s any more dangerous,” she said. “And if ye needed help fighting, my father would send men.”

If he had to have a wife, praise God she was a fearless lass. Still, he wanted to be honest with her about what awaited them there.

“Our clan has an old castle there, Dunfaileag, that should provide sufficient protection once it is repaired,” he said. “But it will take a good deal of work before it is either comfortable or secure.”

“I like to be busy,” she said. “And have ye forgotten I traveled to Edinburgh and back sleeping outdoors on the hard ground?”

“Nay, I haven’t forgotten a single night.” He met her eyes and gave her a smile that made her blush. He was glad for the opportunity to remind her that he knew how to please her under the blankets when he wasn’t dead drunk.

“I could see my family more often,” she said. “Please, Alex, I want to go.”

Praise God.

“My parents are expecting us, so we’ll have to pay them a visit on the way,” he said. “But then we’ll sail for North Uist.”

Glynis finally gave him a smile. They’d had a civil conversation and come to an agreement on an important matter without a fuss or fight. It bode well for the future.

Alex didn’t want to mention her former husband, but North Uist had one other advantage over Skye—it was further away from the Clanranald chieftain’s base at Castle Tioram.

“We took this boat from Hugh Dubh when we removed him from Dunscaith Castle,” Alex said, patting the rail. “How did ye know this was the one Connor wanted me to take?”

“Ilysa told me.”

Of course. Alex looked down the length of the boat. It was a full-size war galley, so Connor also had to give up the eighteen men it took to row it.

“I’ll need a war galley on North Uist,” Alex said, reconciling himself to it. He leaned his elbows on the rail to admire Shaggy’s boat, which was looking so pretty sitting out on the water. “Shame about losing that sweet little galley.”

“If I hear another word about that galley, which didn’t belong to ye in the first place,” Glynis said, “I swear I’ll set fire to it.”

And Alex had prided himself that he understood women. He had no idea why mention of Shaggy’s boat should upset her. Fortunately, he saw Ilysa making her way down to the shore with Sorcha and Bessie. Deciding it was best to let Glynis calm down, Alex went to meet them.

“I didn’t have a chance to tell ye before,” Ilysa said, when he reached them. “Teàrlag gave me a message for ye.”

“Wait in the boat for me, Sorcha.” Judging from past experience, Teàrlag’s message would not be something he wanted his daughter to hear. After Sorcha skipped off with Bessie, he said, “Teàrlag couldn’t wait to admonish me in person?”

“No admonishments this time,” Ilysa said, smiling. “She sends blessings on your marriage.”

“So that’s how ye knew to have enough food and drink on hand for a feast,” Alex said. “Thank ye for that.”

Connor had no notion of all that Ilysa did. Though she was young, Connor would never find a wife who could keep the castle half so well. Cha bhi fios aire math an tobair gus an tràigh e. The value of the well is not known until it goes dry.

“Teàrlag did say to remind ye that she was correct about the three women,” Ilysa said, “and about the gift being special and bright as a moonbeam.”

Alex glanced over his shoulder at his wee daughter, whose hair was the color of moonbeams and whose name meant “radiant.” “Aye, she is a special gift.”

“And the three women?” Ilysa asked.

“Three did require my help, though I can’t say any of them gave me a choice about giving it,” he said. “Glynis threatened me, Sorcha’s mother sailed off without her, and I couldn’t very well let the other one drown.”

Ilysa laughed. “I suppose not.”

“As Teàrlag predicted, one brought deceit and another danger,” he said, and his heart missed a beat as he thought of how he could have lost Sorcha. Attempting to regain his light tone, he said, “And I’m hoping my new bride will fulfill a few of my deepest desires tonight.”

Ilysa gave him a soft smile and touched his arm. “Open your heart to Glynis.”

“And why should I take advice from Duncan’s baby sister?” Alex asked.

“Because, while some say ye got a better woman than ye deserve,” Ilysa said, “I believe ye can be as good a man as ye want to be, Alexander Bàn MacDonald.”

* * *

Sorcha leaned against her father and waved good-bye to Dunscaith Castle as they sailed away. She missed the little red-haired girls already. Though they made lots of funny sounds, they had only one word between them. Sorcha didn’t mind that they screamed it over and over—Da! Da!—because it made them so happy.

But she was disappointed she did not get to see the warrior queen her father told her about.

Unless her new mother was the warrior queen. Glynis dressed like the other women, but Sorcha could imagine her fighting with a great sword.

She felt safe with Glynis.

CHAPTER 38

Glynis intended to stay angry with Alex for a very long time.

Of course, having her husband sleep through their wedding night was a vast improvement over her first wedding night. Ach, Magnus was a disgusting, selfish pig both in and out of bed.

Glynis felt herself softening toward Alex as she watched him at the rudder, with Sorcha on his lap, pointing out landmarks on the shore and the small islands they passed. Alex had such an easy, generous nature. As her curiosity overcame her stubbornness, she inched her way along the rail until she was close enough to hear what Alex was saying.

“That is where your grandmother lives,” Alex said, pointing to a two-story house on an offshore island to their right. Then he pointed to an older, larger fortified house a short distance up the coast on their left. “And that is your grandfather’s, which is where we’ll be staying.”

Sorcha tugged at his arm and held up two fingers.

“Why do they have two houses?” Alex paused for a long moment before he answered. “They needed room for all their friends.”

Glynis should have taken that as a warning.

Alex’s mother and father had an earlier start from Dunscaith and were both waiting in the hall for them. As the serving women came in and out with drinks and platters of food, they gave Alex overly friendly greetings. Not one of them was old or unattractive.

This household was altogether too much like Clanranald’s. It made Glynis physically ill to be here. Although Alex’s jokes and laughing remarks were not as blatant as Magnus’s pinches and squeezes, his relationship with several of the women was clear, nonetheless.

Glynis was rapidly losing her appreciation for her new husband’s generous nature.

“Hello, Anna,” Alex called out to a buxom redhead, who winked at him. “You’re looking well, Brigid,” he said to the dark-haired beauty who made a point of brushing up against his shoulder when she brought him a cup of ale.

Sweat broke out on Glynis’s palms as she fought another wave of nausea. She fixed her gaze on the far wall and held on to the table as she got to her feet.

“I’d like to get settled in my chamber, if someone will show me where it is.”

* * *

“Here we are,” Alex said, as he opened the door for Glynis and Sorcha.

It felt strange to be in his old bedchamber, and stranger still to be settling his new family in it. From the time he was old enough to sail on his own, he had spent as little time here as possible. He was always off having adventures—or getting into trouble, depending on your point of view—with Connor, Ian, and Duncan. He’d made himself a regular guest at both Dunscaith and Ian’s house.

Sorcha went to the window to look out, and Glynis looked everywhere but at him. Alex glanced at the small bed. His feet would hang off the end, but Glynis could not avoid him in a bed that size. He was desperate to have some time alone with her—both in and out of bed. He would ask his mother to take Sorcha to sleep with her.

He was pleased then when his mother appeared in the doorway.

“Do ye have what ye need?” she asked.

Though his mother had moved out years ago, she always assumed the role of hostess the moment she stepped foot into his father’s house. Before Alex could ask her about changing the sleeping arrangements, his mother forged ahead with what she had come to tell them.

“Our clansmen on this side of Skye didn’t get word in time to come to the wedding feast at Dunscaith.” She clasped her hands together and beamed at them. “So I’ve invited them all here tonight for another wedding feast!”

Alex was furious with his mother. The last thing he needed tonight was a second wedding feast.

“That was kind of ye,” Glynis said, but she had gone pale as death. “I’m a wee bit tired from all the…excitement…of last night. So if ye don’t mind taking Sorcha, I’d like to take a rest.”

“I could use a lie down myself,” Alex said, feeling hopeful.

“I’m sure ye can find a bed somewhere,” Glynis said, giving him a look that would sour milk.

“What in the hell have ye done, Mother?” Alex demanded, as they went down the stairs. “Ye should have asked me before inviting everyone.”

“I wanted to make your wife and daughter feel welcome,” his mother said, smiling down at Sorcha.

Alex was not appeased by his mother’s professed good intensions. Both his parents always did precisely as they wanted with no thought to anyone else. The deed was done, however, so tonight would be spent entertaining every man, woman, and child within a half day’s journey of his father’s house.

A short while later, he was sitting in the hall contemplating his grim future with a cup of ale when his parents’ voices pierced his thoughts. When he turned, he saw his daughter squeezing the life out of her old doll as she looked back and forth between his parents.

“I don’t care what ye say,” his mother said, leaning forward with her hands on her hips. “I’m taking Sorcha home with me tonight.”

“Ye will no take my granddaughter out of this house,” his father shouted.

His parents were far too engrossed in their argument to notice Sorcha was watching them with eyes as big as platters. Alex stormed over and picked up his daughter. When she leaned against him with her thumb in her mouth, he brushed her hair back and kissed her forehead.

“I won’t have this,” he said to his parents, who had paused long enough to look at him. “The two of ye will get along in my daughter’s presence, or ye will not see her.”

His parents spoke over each other. “But she is my only grandchild!” “You’ve no right!”

“I do have the right,” Alex said, fixing his gaze on each of his parents in turn. “And I will no allow ye to fight over her the way ye did with me.”

Alex had never voiced his feelings about their fighting before, and they were both—for once—too shocked to speak. He supposed that was often the way of it with families. The obvious truths were never spoken aloud, as if that somehow made them less true.

“I won’t tell ye again,” he said. “If ye can’t be civil to each other in front of my daughter, we’ll leave and we won’t come back.”

* * *

Things were going from bad to worse. Ach, why did Mary have to come to the feast?

Alex felt lower than dirt as he greeted her husband. Now that he was a husband himself, he saw the whole situation quite differently. Mary’s husband was a sniveling ass, but that did not excuse Alex taking his wife to bed. Alex would kill any man who did the same to him. The mere thought of another man’s hands on Glynis sent murder roiling through his veins.

Through seven courses, Mary tried to catch Alex’s eye. Alex steadfastly ignored her and tried his best to converse with Glynis.

“I’m sorry for all the guests tonight,” he said, leaning close to Glynis’s ear.

“Why would ye be sorry?” she said, her back as stiff as a board. “Is it me or your daughter that ye are ashamed to have them meet?”

Alex clenched his jaw to keep from shouting at her.

“Ye know damned well I’m no ashamed of either of ye,” he said, when he could manage to speak in a low voice. “Can ye no meet me halfway and attempt to be pleasant?”

“If ye wanted a pleasant wife, ye should have picked someone else,” she said in a fierce whisper. “I warned ye from the start about my sour disposition.”

With that, Glynis turned her back on him to talk to his mother, who sat on her other side. Ach! His head was already pounding when Mary got up and gave him a broad wink over her shoulder as she left the hall. Damn it, at least he could put a stop to that.

He waited in the vestibule for Mary to come back from the privy. When she came in and saw him, she broke into a wide smile.

“Alex—”

“Quiet!” He grabbed Mary by the wrist and hauled her outside into the dark courtyard. As soon as he had her around the corner of the house where they couldn’t be seen from the door, he jerked her around to face him.

“So ye did miss me,” she said and started to run her palm up his chest.

“What in the hell are ye doing, Mary?” he said, pushing her hand away. “I brought ye out here to tell ye to stop this foolishness before my wife notices.”

“Frankly, your bride doesn’t look as if she’d care one way or the other.”

“She would,” Alex said, though he was beginning to doubt it himself. “She just isn’t as obvious in her attentions as some.”

Mary gave a light laugh. “Indeed.”

“I want ye to go home now and don’t come back,” he said, keeping his voice low.

“Where do ye want to meet, then?” she asked.

“Keep your voice down,” he hissed. “Ye are no understanding me. I’m a married man now, and I’ve no intention of starting another affair with ye—or anyone else.”

“Ye know what they say about good intentions,” Mary said with a smile in her voice.

“I mean it, Mary,” Alex said. “I don’t want to make trouble for ye, but I will if I have to.”

“I was made for trouble.” She laughed and leaned against him.

“I’m warning ye,” he said, pushing her away from him by her shoulders. “Take your husband and go home.”

Alex left her standing alone in the dark and stomped up the steps of the house. God in Heaven, what had he seen in such a woman?

* * *

Glynis was certain everyone in the hall was laughing at her behind their hands. All evening, that woman named Mary had been glancing and winking at Alex. Mary’s husband must be half blind, but there was nothing wrong with Glynis’s eyesight. When Alex and Mary both disappeared, Glynis should have had too much pride to follow them—but she simply could not stay in her seat. She had to know for certain that Alex had truly gone to meet a lover on the second night of their marriage.

When she stepped out into the vestibule and saw neither of them, her chest felt too tight. Though Glynis had feared Alex had left with the woman, she had wanted to be proven wrong. Still, she told herself she must not judge him without actually seeing him with the wretched woman. There were only two places one could go from the vestibule—outside or up the stairs to the bedchambers.

Glynis could not face finding them in a bedchamber, so she slipped out the front door, taking care to not make a sound. As she eased the door closed behind her, she heard a murmur of voices. She followed the sound down the steps to the corner of the house.

Her heart sank as she recognized the low rumble of Alex’s voice. Though he was speaking too low for her to make out his words, Glynis had no trouble hearing the woman.

“Where do ye want to meet, then?” Mary asked.

Nay, this could not be happening. Glynis squeezed her eyes shut and took openmouthed breaths, trying to gain control. Somehow, she had to go back inside without looking as if she’d had her guts sliced open and ripped from her body like a caught fish.

“I was made for trouble” was the last thing Glynis heard. The words rang in her ears as she stumbled blindly to the door.

Now she knew what Alex’s “usual sort” of woman was like—she was the kind who was soft and easy and incited a man’s lust.

A woman made for trouble.

CHAPTER 39

Alex returned to the hall to find his wife’s seat empty.

“Where is Glynis?” he asked his mother.

“She said Sorcha looked tired and took her upstairs,” his mother said. “I told her I’d be happy to take Sorcha home with me, but Glynis wouldn’t hear of it.”

Damn. Damn. Damn.

“Ye can’t leave as well when we have all these guests,” his mother whispered.

“Ye invited them, Mother, so ye can entertain them.”

Alex left without a backward glance and took the stairs two at a time. He expected to find Glynis tucking Sorcha into bed or telling her a story, but the room was black.

“Glynis, I know ye can’t be sleeping yet,” Alex said.

Glynis’s voice came out of the darkness. “Shhh. You’ll wake Sorcha.”

“Then come out and talk to me.”

“I have nothing to say to ye,” Glynis said. “Sorcha is in the bed with me, so ye can make yourself comfortable on the floor.”

“I apologize for last night,” he said in a low voice. “I wanted to make it up to ye tonight.”

“To me and who else?”

“I don’t deserve that,” he said. “I haven’t even had time to do anything I shouldn’t, even if I were inclined—which I’m not.”

“I don’t believe ye,” Glynis said. “And I don’t want to talk about it tonight.”

He tried to make Glynis see sense, but it was like bailing the sea with a creel. Eventually, he tired of talking to himself in the darkness, so he lay down on the cold floor and wrapped his plaid around himself. He was tempted to tell her there were other beds in this house that he wouldn’t be turned out of. But he thought of his parents’ vicious fights and bit his tongue.

Clearly, he wouldn’t be getting his deepest desires fulfilled tonight.

After tossing and turning on the hard floor all night, he awoke abruptly to a room filled with sunlight and sat up. The bed beside him was empty.

So, for the second morning of his marriage, Alex went looking for his wife. As he was crossing the hall, his mother poked her head out from behind the screen.