The Sinner

“Get your father,” she said. “I must speak with the two of ye alone.”

Being trapped alone with his mother and father was the last thing he needed right now. “Later, Mother. Have ye seen Glynis?”

“It’s about her that we need to speak,” she said. “This is important, Alex, so get your father. Now.”

His father was in his bedchamber—alone, for once. A short time later, the three of them were sitting at the small table that was behind the screen in the hall. Alex would rather be boiled in oil than sit with the two of them in a small space, but here he was.

His father leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms on his chest. In the surly tone he reserved for Alex’s mother, he said, “What is it, Mòrag?”

His mother opened her mouth to shout at him, but with an effort she stopped herself.

“Fergus, ye must remove every woman from this house who our son has bedded at one time or another.” His mother made this astonishing statement in a calm and reasonable voice, as if she were saying they were out of salt or needed another barrel of wine.

Alex and his father exchanged glances, but they were both too startled to say a word.

“Are ye men such fools that ye can’t see what is happening?” she asked.

“I’ve no idea what ye are talking about, Mother.”

“It comes as no surprise that your father is wholly lacking in consideration for a new bride,” his mother said. “But, Alex, can ye no see how it hurts Glynis to have these women about?”

“What is it ye think I’ve done?” Alex felt self-righteous, which was a rather new sensation for him. “I’ve not touched a woman since I was wed.” Hell, he had not even touched his wife.

“I am relieved to hear that,” his mother said, pressing her hand to her chest. “Then it isn’t too late to mend things with Glynis and convince her to stay with ye.”

Alex felt as if the ground were shifting under him. He knew Glynis was upset, but was she planning to leave him already?

“What are ye saying, Mòrag?” his father asked.

“That the two of ye are mistaken if ye don’t think these women have found ways to let Glynis know they’ve been in Alex’s bed before—and expect to be again,” she said, and Alex had the impression she was talking about herself as a young wife as much as she was about Glynis. “Ye don’t help matters, Alex, by being an even worse flirt than your father.”

“I joke with them,” he said, lifting his hands. “It means nothing.”

“And just how is Glynis supposed to know that?” his mother asked.

“I gave her my promise.”

“Just as every philandering husband in the Highlands has done before ye,” she said, “including her first husband and your father.”

“I will no change my household to suit ye, M—”

“Ye will do it, da,” Alex said, cutting his father off. Then he left them to find his wife.

* * *

Alex found Glynis walking alone on the beach. She was barefoot, his island lass. Seeing her like this, he felt a deep longing for her that had nothing to do with salvaging his pride or needing a mother for his daughter. Alex wanted this woman at his side, and to have her look up at him with a smile in her eyes.

When Glynis saw him, she stood still and waited for him, with the wind blowing her hair and skirts. She looked so pretty, but her eyes were sad.

“Sit with me?” he asked.

She gave him a tight nod and let him take her hand. He led her up the beach to sit in the tall grass where it was dry. Still holding her hand, he told her about his conversation with his mother and father.

“I’m going to try to explain this to ye and be truthful,” he said, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand, “though ye won’t like part of what I have to tell ye.”

“I want the truth,” she said.

“All right,” he said. “From the time I was a young lad, my father told me that men like us needed women like we need the sea—and that one woman would never do for us. So there were always women about my father’s house. Willing women, if ye catch my meaning.”

He glanced at Glynis. She was staring out to sea, but she was listening.

“That was just how it was,” he said. “I thought nothing I did before we wed should matter. But I didn’t realize how it might seem to ye, being here.”

Glynis was thoughtful for a long moment. Finally, she turned to him and said, “Would ye want to share a house with men I had bedded?”

“I had the impression there was only one man before me.” And if Alex had his way, that man would be weighed down with chains at the bottom of the sea. Speaking very carefully, he asked, “Have there been many?”

This, of all things, brought a smile to her face. She touched his arm, and it amazed him how the slight gesture could soften him. She had him in the palm of her hand. God help him if she ever knew it.

“There was only the one,” she said. “And he was worthless.”

Alex had the sense not to tell Glynis how much this pleased him, but he lifted her hand and pressed it to his lips. “We’ll leave for North Uist tomorrow, and we’ll make ourselves a different kind of home there.”

“For certain,” Glynis said, and gave a short laugh.

“I told my father he must change his household if he wants us to ever come here again.”

“He’ll do that?” she asked.

“I suspect my mother will do it for him.” Alex could almost hear her: I’ll stay just until Fergus’s whores can be replaced with decent clanswomen—preferably toothless, elderly ones. “She’s been wanting to do it for years.”

“I don’t want the women to be turned out with nowhere to go,” Glynis said.

Alex cupped her cheek with his hand. She was such a good woman—as Ilysa said, better than he deserved.

“I’ll ask my mother to send them home to their families or find husbands for them.” If Alex had to figure out how to deal with a wife, every man should.

“What about that woman, Mary?” Glynis asked in a quiet voice.

“I did bed her a few times, but I ended it before I went to the gathering at Shaggy Maclean’s,” he said. “I’m no proud of what I did, for she was married at the time, but I broke no vow.”

“I heard ye with her outside,” Glynis said, her voice still very low.

“I was asking her to leave.” He took her hand and kissed it again. “Glynis, ye are the only one I want. Are ye determined to make me suffer longer, or will ye come to bed with me now?”

Glynis looked at him with her clear gray eyes. “I will.”

Finally, he was taking his wife to bed—a place where he knew his ground.

CHAPTER 40

What are ye doing?” Glynis cried when Alex lifted her off her feet and started carrying her up to the house.

“I’m letting everyone know that I’m dying to ravish my wife,” Alex said, grinning at her.

Glynis felt embarrassed and pleased at the same time by his intention to proclaim to the entire household that she was the one he’d chosen, the woman he wanted. The guests who had stayed overnight cheered as Alex carried her around the hall—overjoyed, no doubt, that they would have a fine story to tell. As Alex carried her toward the stairs amid the shouts, Glynis caught a glimpse of Sorcha sitting between his parents. All three were clapping, and Alex’s parents both looked happy for once.

“Ye can put me down now,” she said when they reached the bedchamber door.

“Hell no,” he said. “I’m no risking the bad luck that lurks in doorways a third time.”

She rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help laughing when he kicked the door open and carried her through. As soon as he set her on her feet, he swung the door shut and pressed her against it. The laughter died in her throat when she saw the longing in his eyes.

“Ach, I’ve been wanting ye so much,” he said, holding her face in his hands.

Her eyes closed as his mouth met hers. For a long, long time, he just kissed her, not as a step to something else, but as if he wanted to do it forever. His fingers slid into her hair and supported her head as their tongues moved against each other in deep kisses.

Glynis felt adrift and breathless as he kissed her cheeks, her eyelids, her hair.

“Cronaím thú,” he said. I missed you.

His hands slid down her shoulders and arms. As they fell into deep kisses again, he held her in a firm grasp with his hands splayed over her ribs and back. Her breasts ached for his touch. Desire swept through her. She reached between them and rubbed her hand over the length of his erect shaft, drawing a deep groan from him and a sigh of her own.

“O shluagh,” he said, calling on the fairies for mercy.

Alex’s mouth grew hungry, feverish, devouring hers as he ground his hips against her, pinning her to the wall. His fingers dug into her hips, and still they could not get close enough. When he lifted her up, she wrapped her legs around his waist. He ran his hands under her gown along the bare skin of her thighs until he cupped her bottom.

Through their clothes she felt his erection against the sensitive spot between her legs. She clung to him, urging him closer, but there was too much fabric between them. It had been days and days since he’d been inside her. She wanted to meld into his heat, to go to the dark depths of passion with him. She rocked against him, begging. Please, please, please.

Tension radiated between them as he tugged at her bottom lip with his teeth in barely controlled violence. But she wanted to feel the full force of his desire for her, unleashed, unshackled, freed of all restraint and caution.

He had one hand on her breast, massaging and kneading, as he held her buttocks with the other. His tongue and breath were hot in her ear. “You’ve too many clothes on. I must feel ye.”

She heard the ping of buttons as he pulled her bodice down.

“Aye,” she breathed when his rough palm cupped her bare breast. Her head fell back against the door. She was lost in a haze of desire as he squeezed her nipple and dragged his tongue and lips along the side of her throat.

“I need ye now,” he said, panting against her ear. “Oh, please, Glynis, right now.”

Aye. Now. She tugged at his shirt, but they were pressed too tightly together. His mouth covered hers again as he moved his hips away just long enough to jerk his shirt up.

“Oh!” She felt the tip of his shaft against her. When he paused, squeezing his eyes shut, she dug her fingers into his shoulders. “Now, Alex. Now.”

He made a strangled sound, and in one deep stroke, he was inside her. She wrapped her legs tighter around his hips. She bit his shoulder as Alex’s control broke, and he rammed against her, again and again. Her back banged against the door, and she didn’t care.

“Harder, harder,” she cried, as their bodies slammed together. She heard herself scream as he surged against her, and a shattering rapture shook her.

Alex collapsed against her, his body hot, his breathing harsh against her ear. She shivered as he ran his hands along her thigh and over her hip.

“Hold on to me,” he said, and then he carried her to the bed. With one hand, he pulled the bedclothes back and then fell sideways with her across the bed.

“By the saints, ye nearly killed me,” he said. “But it was like touching Heaven.”

He enfolded her in his arms and slung his leg over her as well. She fell sound asleep surrounded in his warmth.

Glynis didn’t know how long she had been sleeping when she was awakened by a breeze tickling her face. She opened her eyes to find Alex blowing on her.

“Why are ye doing that?” she asked with a slow smile.

“I woke up and wanted your company,” he said. “Do ye mind?”

“Nay.”

“Ye see, I’ve been lying here thinking of ways to make up for being useless the night of our wedding.” He had a devilish glint in his eyes that made the room suddenly seem warm. “I probably know a few things we haven’t tried yet.”

It would be easy to let him distract her, but Glynis had a serious question.

“Why did ye get so drunk that night?” she asked.

“I hadn’t seen Connor, Duncan, and Ian in a long while and—”

“I think it was something else,” she said.

Alex looked away and did not speak for a while. Finally, he said, “Ye know I had never wanted to marry—you’ve met my parents, so now ye know why.”

Her stomach tightened, but she had asked the question so she should have been ready to hear the answer.

“When they arrived at Dunscaith, it brought all that back to me—the bickering and fighting, the endless misery between them.” He turned his gaze back to her and touched her cheek with the back of his fingers. “It worried me for a bit, but it didn’t last.”

“I’m glad ye told me the truth,” she said. “I want ye to promise ye will never lie to me.”

“I won’t lie to ye,” Alex said. “And now I’ll tell ye what I want.”

“What’s that?” she asked.

“I am happy to fight my clan’s enemies—in truth, I enjoy it—but I don’t want to fight with you.”

“We might argue once in a while,” she said.

He shrugged. “I want things peaceful between us.”

Glynis suddenly felt uncomfortable with her gown bunched around her. She sat up on the edge of the bed and tried to untwist it. “I hope I can find a needle and thread so I can fix my gown myself. If I have to ask one of the servants to do it, they’ll be talking about us for weeks.”

“Let’s take your gown off all the way,” he said, trailing his finger over her bare shoulder. One light touch, and she was like soft butter. What this man did to her.

He sat up and unfastened the rest of the buttons down her back and then pressed soft, warm kisses down to the base of her spine. Then he pushed her gown down farther and nipped at her bottom, sending little thrills of sensation that echoed in a tightening of her womb.

“Stand up so we can get this off ye,” he said.

When she rose up, he helped her step out of her gown. Then with sure hands on her hips, he pulled her back to sit between his legs. He moved her hair to one side and kissed her neck while one hand fondled her breast and the other inched up the inside of her thigh.

“When ye said ye wanted company,” she said, “I thought ye meant ye wanted someone to talk to.”

“I do,” he said. “I want ye to tell me all the ways ye want me to touch ye.”

“This is good,” she managed to say, as he started stroking and circling between her legs. She let her head drop back against his shoulder.

“Ye are beautiful like this,” he said in a hoarse whisper, as his fingers worked their magic. “I want to hear ye keen and moan when ye find your release.”

She gripped his leg as the sensations grew stronger. His shaft was hard against her buttocks, but he seemed intent on her pleasure. When her breathing changed, he sucked on her shoulder and stuck his finger inside her. All the while, he was rolling her nipple between his thumb and finger. She arched her back as the tension grew inside her until she feared she might snap in two.

But this was Alex in control, the skilled lover who knew how to please a woman, any woman.

“Stop,” she said, pulling his hand away.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

She turned and pushed him back on the bed.

“I want to feel ye inside me, with nothing between us,” she said, as she leaned over him. “I want to touch ye in a way no other woman has. I want to touch your heart.”

“Glynis, I can’t—”

“I’m no saying ye have to love me right away,” she said. “But I can’t do things halfway, Alex. I’m not that sort of person.”

“Ah, Glynis, don’t.”

“I love ye, Alexander Bàn MacDonald,” she said. “I won’t say it again because I know it makes ye uncomfortable to hear it. But ye need to know that ye hold my heart in your hands.”

She straddled him and slid slowly down onto his shaft.

“Jesus, Glynis,” he said.

“It means ye can hurt me badly,” she said. “And if ye do, I won’t be able to forgive ye. Not ever.”

“I won’t hurt ye,” he said as if it were a plea, as they began to move together slowly. “I won’t.”

CHAPTER 41

North Uist

Two Months Later

Alex stood on the wall of Dunfaileag Castle with Tormond, the crusty old warrior who had become his right-hand man in overseeing the rebuilding of the castle’s defenses.

“We’ll be done patching this last hole in the wall today,” Tormond said, as they examined the work.

“’Tis a shame this old castle wasn’t built on an offshore island,” Alex said, not for the first time. Unlike many castles in the Western Isles, including Dunscaith and the MacNeil stronghold, Dunfaileag sat on a rocky hill above the shore, where it was accessible by land. “We’d have trouble withstanding a large attack by another clan.”

“Not much risk of that here, is there?” Tormond said. “Now that it’s patched up, Dunfaileag will do fine against raiders.”

The pirates relied on stealth and speed, usually attacking with a small group of men. When Alex first arrived, he had regular skirmishes with raiders. They ventured onto his side of the island less and less now. But he hadn’t seen Hugh’s ship at all, and he wondered why.

Alex smiled when he turned and saw his wife and daughter on the beach below the castle. It reminded him of the first time he’d seen Glynis without her disguise on the beach at Barra. He chuckled to himself, remembering the blotches of red clay sliding down her face. What a determined woman his wife was.

These days, Glynis focused that determination on turning Dunfaileag Castle into a home that ran smoothly and was a comfort to all who lived and worked within its walls. She thrived on being in charge of a large household.

The weeks had flown by. Alex didn’t even know how it had come to pass that he could no longer imagine his life without her. She had come upon him slowly, insinuating herself like a warm summer mist permeating his skin, his senses, and his very soul until he needed her like air to breathe.

“Take over for me here,” Alex said to Tormond. “I’m going to have a wee visit with my wife and daughter.”

Tormond nodded. “Ye are a lucky man to have those two.”

But luck was a fragile thing that could turn on you in a moment. Alex knew that a sinner like him did not deserve his good fortune, but he was praying that mending his ways counted for something.

He went down the steps and then followed the trail to the beach. When Sorcha saw him, she ran to him holding out an oyster shell.

“I see ye found a magical shell.” Alex held it up, examining it carefully. “This one came all the way from Ireland on the back of a dolphin.”

Sorcha laughed and snatched it back. Her laughter came more and more frequently now, and sometimes she seemed within a breath of speaking. Before long, he would hear his daughter’s voice, he felt certain.

When Sorcha went off in search of more treasures, Glynis took his arm, and they walked along the shore. Ah, life was very good.

“Have ye noticed how Peiter, the young fisherman who brings fish up to the castle sometimes, stops what he’s doing every time Seamus’s sister walks by?”

Seamus was the ten-year-old lad who followed Alex around like a young pup. At Glynis’s suggestion, Alex had finally given the lad the job of cleaning his weapons.

“Seamus’s sister?” he asked.

“Aye, she’s that pretty lass with the golden hair,” Glynis said. “Her name is Ùna.”

“Hmm.” Though Glynis had come to trust him, Alex took care not to say or do anything that might change that. For the same reason, he didn’t find it necessary to tell Glynis that all his men stopped working to watch that particular lass when she came to the castle.

“Peiter wants to wed her,” she said, looking up at him with a soft look in her eyes.

“And how would ye know this?”

“I asked him, of course.”

Alex chuckled, wondering how she had wrung this confession out of the young man. Unfortunately, his wife appeared to see Peiter’s lovelorn state as a problem that needed fixing.

“Would ye consider speaking to her father on his behalf?”

Alex groaned. “You’ve only to ask, and I’ll fight a hundred men for ye. But matchmaking … ach.”

“Ye act in your chieftain’s place here on North Uist,” Glynis said in her most reasonable tone. “And one of a chieftain’s duties is to approve marriages—and even encourage them at times.”

“Connor failed to mention this duty to me.” Alex didn’t bother pointing out that she had not appreciated it when her own father exercised that particular chieftain responsibility.

Glynis leaned against him and smiled up at him. “I want them to be happy like us.”

“I’ll talk to Pieter first. And if he says he wants me to, I’ll speak to the father.” Alex sighed and kissed her nose. “Now we both know there is nothing ye can’t get me to do.”

* * *

Alex kept his eye on Peiter the next time Seamus’s sister came up to the castle. The poor fool stood with his mouth open and didn’t hear Alex until he’d said his name twice.

“Ùna is a pretty lass,” Alex said to him.

“Aye,” Pieter said on a sigh, as he followed her across the castle yard with his eyes.

“Have ye tried speaking to her?” Alex asked.

“We were good friends as children,” Pieter said. “But she won’t even look at me now.”

Alex watched how the young woman kept her gaze fixed on the ground and didn’t greet any of the men, though she must have known most of them all her life. But as shy as she was, she came to the castle often. Seamus was old to have his sister fetch him, but the lad was always glad to see her. Despite their age difference, the two seemed unusually close.

“Is it marriage ye have in mind, then?” Alex asked Peiter.

“All I want in this life is to marry Ùna,” Peiter said, his gaze fixed on the lass’s back as she went out the castle gate with her brother. “I’ve asked her father, but he refuses to consider me, though I could provide for her better than he does.”

Alex had met Ùna and Seamus’s father and disliked him on sight. He was not surprised to hear that the man was not a good provider, for although he was a powerfully built man, he had a reputation for being both lazy and overly fond of his whiskey jug.

“Has her father made an arrangement with another man to wed her?” Alex asked.

“Nay, he’s just a selfish bastard,” Pieter said. “He told me he needs Ùna to keep house for him because his wife is dead.”

Alex made himself drag the words out, “Would ye like me to speak to him?”

“I would be forever grateful,” Pieter said, turning pleading eyes on him. “Ùna is the only lass who will ever do for me.”

Ach, the young man was in a bad way.

* * *

“I saw Seamus and Ùna’s father with some other fishermen on the shore today and went down to have that talk with him,” Alex reported to Glynis a few nights later while they were lying in bed. “It did not go well.”

“Ye have the chieftain’s authority so ye could order the match,” Glynis said. “But I suppose that wouldn’t be wise, at least not yet.”

Alex was glad Glynis understood that forcing a lass’s marriage against her father’s wishes would cause a good deal of grumbling among the men.

“I’ll see to the marriage in time, provided Ùna wants it as well, but my first duty is to protect the MacDonalds on North Uist,” Alex said. “To lead my clansmen here, I must gain their trust.”

“I’d follow ye anywhere,” Glynis said, and kissed his cheek. “Most of the men already know ye are a good man and a strong leader, and the rest will soon.”

Alex’s chest swelled at her compliment as if he were a young lad instead of a seasoned warrior. So long as Glynis had faith in him, he could do anything.

* * *

A week later, Alex was practicing in the bailey yard with the other men when he noticed Seamus had a black eye. The lad was keeping his head turned, as if he did not want anyone to see it.

“That’s enough for today,” Alex called out to the men. “Good work.”

Alex strolled over to where Seamus was leaning against the castle wall.

“Ye get into a fight?” Alex asked.

Most lads are proud to have something to show for a fight, but Seamus’s head sunk even lower into his shoulders.

“Come now, what happened to your eye?” When Seamus pressed his lips together and shook his head, Alex put his hand on the lad’s shoulder. “I’ll do what I can to help, whatever it is.”

Seamus ventured a sideways glance at Alex. “In private,” he whispered. “No one can know. Ye must promise me.”

“Ye have my word,” Alex said. “Here, take my shield, and we’ll go into the armory.”

Once they were alone in the armory, Alex sat beside the boy on a low wooden bench. He pretended to study the axes and other weapons hanging on the stone wall in front of him while he waited for Seamus to speak.

“’Tis about my sister,” Seamus choked out.

Ach, family troubles, the worst kind. “What about Ùna?”

“My da…my da…” Seamus couldn’t get the words out, and various thoughts whirled in Alex’s head, none of them pleasant.

“Has your father hurt her?” he asked.

Seamus nodded without looking up.

Alex forced himself to keep his voice calm. “I suppose ye got that black eye trying to protect her?”

When the lad nodded again, Alex clenched his teeth against the blinding rage that roared through him. Seamus’s father was a foot taller and twice the lad’s weight. Alex wanted to murder the man.

“I know what it’s like to be angry with your father,” Alex said, though his own father only laid a hand on him when it was well deserved, and then it was always measured. “How has your father hurt your sister?”

Alex pretended not to see the tears that started spilling down the lad’s face and took a deep breath. This was even worse than he’d first thought.

“You’re a brave lad, but ye don’t have the size or the years to handle this problem yourself,” Alex said. “When our chieftain made me keeper of Dunfaileag Castle, he made the safety of every member of our clan here on North Uist my responsibility—that includes you and your sister. Ye must tell me what the trouble is so I can do my duty.”

“I don’t know exactly,” Seamus said, fidgeting. “But he gets drunk and sends me out of the cottage. He bars the door so I can’t get back in, but I can hear my sister screaming.”

Alex’s stomach turned sour. Oh, God, there was evil in this world.

“When he lets me back in,” Seamus said, his voice barely above a whisper, “Ùna is on the bed weeping. Da tells her to keep her mouth shut, or he’ll do it again.”

The man should go straight to hell, and Alex wanted to hurry him on his journey.

“Ye did well to tell me,” Alex said, and the lad’s shoulders relaxed as if a weight had been taken from them. “I’m going to pay a visit on your father.”

“He’s gone fishing in deep waters,” Seamus said. “We don’t expect him back for a few days.”

May he drown and save me the trouble.

“The two of ye will stay at the castle until I can sort this out with your father,” Alex said. “We’ll go get Ùna and your things now.”

“I don’t know if she’ll come,” Seamus said. “Men frighten her. Best let me talk with her first.”

“I’ll bring my wife,” Alex said. “She’ll be able to persuade Ùna.”

“But ye promised ye would tell no one!” Seamus’s eyes were panicked. “Ye gave me your word.”

“All right, I won’t tell my wife just yet,” Alex said, putting his hand up to calm the lad. “Go home and talk to Ùna, and I’ll come get the two of ye after supper.”

With their father out to sea, waiting a couple of hours should make no difference.

CHAPTER 42

I must see to a matter with one of the tenants,” Alex said at the end of supper. He got up and kissed his wife’s forehead. “It shouldn’t take long, but don’t wait up.”

The wind swept over the tall grass, making it move like an amber sea, as Alex crossed through it in the growing darkness. Ahead of him, weak candlelight shone through the window of the small cottage at the edge of the sea. Sadness seemed to weigh down its sagging thatched roof.

Alex knocked on the cottage’s weathered door. When his knock was met by silence, he knocked again. “Seamus, it’s me, open up.”

Silence again. Unease settled in Alex’s gut. He gave them another moment, and then he opened the door.

Alex was a warrior, and he’d fought since he was almost as young as Seamus. And yet, he stood staring for a long moment at the chaos in the one-room cottage before he could take it in. Questions flooded his mind as his gaze traveled over the broken crockery strewn across the floor, the broken table and overturned benches, before coming to rest on the body.

Seamus’s father lay on his back in a pool of blood with a knife stuck in the middle of his chest.

The smell of burning herring finally penetrated Alex’s thoughts. As he crossed the small room to the hearth, he wrapped his shirt around his hand, then lifted the flaming pan from its hook over the fire and set it on the dirt floor. The pan hissed and smoked as he doused the flame with a jug of water that had miraculously survived the maelstrom.

Alex waved the smoke away from his face and looked about the cottage again. Mother, Mary of God, where were the children?

His heart missed a beat when he saw a still, bare foot under the edge of the bed. When he dropped to his knees amid the broken crockery, he saw a tangle of arms and legs under the bed. He prayed hard for a sign of life.

“’Tis safe to come out,” he said, speaking in a low voice. “It’s me, Alex.”

When Seamus’s head and shoulders popped out from under the bed, relief coursed through Alex’s body. He pulled Seamus out and held him on his lap as if he were a bairn Sorcha’s age.

Ùna rolled out from under the bed with a fire poker in her hand. The lass was covered in blood. When she saw Alex holding her brother, she blinked several times and then slowly dropped her arm with the poker to her side.

“I did it, not Seamus,” she said. “I killed him.”

“Ye had good cause, lass,” Alex said. “No one who knows what your father did to ye will blame ye.” Whether everyone would believe it was another question.

“I would die of shame if anyone knew,” Ùna said. “I don’t want anyone to know what he did. Not ever.”

Ùna had started shaking, and Alex did not have the heart to cause the lass any more suffering. He took a deep breath as it became clear what he would have to do.

“If you and your brother can pretend that none of this happened,” he said, “then no one need know that ye killed your father or why.”

Both of them nodded. Keeping secrets about what happened in this house was not new to them.

“I’ll take his body out to sea in his boat,” Alex said. “Fishermen are lost all the time. When he fails to return home in a week or two, folks will assume he drowned.”

Seamus and Ùna looked at Alex as if he were the second coming.

“Can ye clean up here while I’m gone?”

“Aye,” the girl said.

“Seamus, I’ll need a rope and a shovel,” Alex said, as he took off his boots. “Bring them down to the boat.”

Alex hefted the body over his shoulder and carried it down to the boat, which he found on the beach just below the cottage. Their father had kept the boat in such poor repair that none of the fishermen would be surprised when it washed up on shore with a hole in it. A body with a knife wound, however, could be a problem. Alex grunted as he lifted a heavy rock onto the boat.

Seamus came out of the darkness and put the shovel and rope in the boat.

“I’ll be back in a few hours.” Alex squeezed the lad’s shoulders. They felt frail and bony beneath his hands. “It will be all right.”

After sailing down the coast a bit, Alex took the boat straight out to sea for a mile or more. He tied the stone to the body and dumped them both over the side. Damned if he’d say a prayer for the man.

After ramming a hole in the boat with the shovel, Alex dove over the side. He was a strong swimmer, so the worst part of the long swim was the cold. Still, it seemed to take forever to reach shore. When he did, he was so cold he was shaking. He was barefoot and soaking wet, but he warmed up as he made the long walk back by starlight.

By the time he reached the cottage, the sky had the gray cast of predawn. Thankfully, the children—though Ùna was seventeen, Alex could not help thinking of her as a child—had a good fire going. Alex stood before it to dry his clothes as long as he dared.

“Ye did a good job cleaning up,” he said, as he put his boots on.

“I burned what I was wearing,” Ùna said.

“Good. Now get some rest.” They were both too pale and had dark circles under their eyes. “I’ll come back to check on ye tomorrow.”

Alex was exhausted when he returned to the castle just as dawn was breaking. The guards at the gate were men who had come with him from Skye. He suspected they might think he had been in some woman’s bed, as in former days, but he could not very well tell them he’d spent the night disposing of a body at sea—and he was too damned tired to think of a better explanation. He would set them straight in the morning.

Praise be to the saints that Glynis was a sound sleeper. All the same, before easing the bedchamber door open Alex took off his boots and then set them down carefully just inside the door. After hanging his damp clothes over a stool, Alex slipped under the bedclothes and wrapped himself around Glynis. After the hellish night, peacefulness settled over him, as it always did when he fell asleep with his wife in his arms.

* * *

Glynis lay on her side watching the pink dawn sky through the narrow window. Her husband’s arm felt heavy slung across her ribs. With every breath she took, the weight seemed to grow heavier and heavier until she felt as if she were wheezing. But she knew it was not his arm, but the weight on her heart that made it so hard to breathe.

She told herself not to rush to judgment. There could be a dozen reasons why Alex crept into bed with the dawn. And yet, she could think of only one. It throbbed in her head. Another woman, another woman.

She squeezed her eyes shut and prayed. Please, God, don’t let it be true.

If Alex had planned to meet a lover, that would explain why he was distracted all through supper last night. And then there was his vague explanation about needing to visit a tenant, something he never did in the evening. And his parting words: Don’t wait up.

Alex was sleeping like the dead—or like a man who had spent the night sating himself.

Glynis could not lie here a moment longer waiting for Alex to wake up and tell her where he’d been all night. When she threw off the bedclothes and sat up, the first thing she saw was his boots. Alex had stood them neatly by the door instead of tossing them on the floor by the bed as he always did.

Her husband had taken pains not to wake her when he came in.

Glynis was so upset that the thought of breakfast made her ill. After grabbing an oatcake for her pocket from the kitchen, she headed out for a walk on the beach. She bid good day to the men on guard as she started through the gate, then she stopped.

“Were ye here when my husband came in early this morning?” she asked one of the men. Her stomach sank as the guard looked away and shifted his weight from side to side.

“Aye,” the man said, then quickly added, “but he didn’t say where he’d been.”

Apparently, Alex did not need to say for the man to guess.

CHAPTER 43

Alex awoke with the sun shining on his face. He blinked to clear the images of the bloody cottage from his vision and looked about the empty bedchamber. Good God, how late had he slept?

He was not used to waking up without Glynis, and he didn’t like it. And where in the hell were his boots? He was on his knees looking under the bed before he remembered leaving them neatly by the door. He smiled thinking how that must have pleased his orderly wife.

His stomach rumbled, and his muscles ached as he drew a clean shirt over his head. It was a long swim last night, and he was starving.

When he went down to the hall, Sorcha ran across the room to him. It must be noon already, for everyone was sitting at the tables, waiting for him to start the midday meal—everyone, that is, except his wife.

He picked Sorcha up and rubbed her head with his knuckles. “Where’s your mother?”

Sorcha pointed in the direction of the beach.

“She must have lost track of time,” Alex said. “She does love her walks.”

The others were waiting to eat, and the men had work to do, so Alex sat down and signaled for the meal to begin. He missed having Glynis beside him at the table, but it was just as well. He was anxious to see how Seamus and Ùna were faring. As soon as he had seen them, he would find Glynis and explain the situation to her.

Poor Ùna. Alex hoped the lass was strong enough to recover from this horror. As he crossed the meadow to their cottage, he picked a few wildflowers for her. Most of the flowers were gone, but there were still some knapweed and devil’s bit blooming. When he reached the cottage and knocked, Ùna opened the door. She looked at the flowers he held out to her as if they were some strange gift from a fairy hill.

“Thank ye,” she finally said in a soft voice and took them.

Tears were streaming down her face. God help him, had the lass seen so little kindness in her young life that a handful of flowers could touch her so? Alex laid a hand on her shoulder and stepped inside.

“The cottage looks good,” he said. “Shame about the table and chairs. I’ll bring tools next time and fix them for ye.”

“’Tis no the first time they’ve been broken,” Seamus said.

“For now, the two of ye must act as if nothing unusual has happened,” he reminded them. “Seamus should come up to the castle as usual. Then, after a few days, ye can ask the other fishermen if they’ve seen your father’s boat. Do ye think ye can do that?”

“I can’t ask anyone about him,” Ùna said, shaking her head violently.

Seamus took his sister’s hand. “I’ll do the asking.”

Alex was starting to worry that the lass would give them away.

“I need to tell my wife the truth about what happened,” he said. “I can’t have secrets between us.”

“Don’t! Please!” Ùna said and backed away from him.

“Hush now, it’s all right,” Alex said, trying to calm her.

“I hate that ye know about it.” Her voice was shaking, and she was wringing her hands. “I can’t bear to have anyone else know. I can’t, I can’t!”

Alex could not risk having the lass fall apart—she might end up telling everyone about murdering her father, and then he’d have an even worse mess to clean up. And Glynis couldn’t lie to save her life. If he told her, the truth would be all over her face every time she looked at Seamus or his sister.

“All right, I won’t tell my wife just yet,” Alex said. “I’ll give ye a day to think on it, and then we’ll talk again.”

* * *

As Glynis paced the beach, she reminded herself that Alex had given her no cause to doubt him until now. His friendly, easy manner had deceived her at first, but beneath the charm and humor was a reliable man who took his responsibilities seriously. That was the reason his chieftain, who knew Alex as well as anyone, entrusted Dunfaileag Castle and the safety of their clansman on this island to him.

Of course, a man could be loyal to his chieftain and not to his wife.

Glynis pushed that thought aside. Alex had shown no signs he was tired of her yet—in bed or out of it. He would have a good explanation for where he was last night, and she’d be annoyed with herself for getting upset over nothing.

And getting upset was not good for her baby.

Having finally talked herself into seeing reason, Glynis left the beach. She started up the path to the castle. But when she stopped and turned to take in the view, she saw Alex. He was walking with his back to her, but with his fair hair, tall frame, and long, easy stride, he could not be mistaken for anyone else.

Glynis ran to catch up with him. As she came closer, she saw that Alex had gathered flowers for her. Ach, her warrior had a soft heart. Glynis called to him, but he did not hear her over the wind. She smiled to herself as she decided to suggest they be truly wicked and make love outdoors in the middle of the day. They had not done that once since their journey to Edinburgh.

Glynis put her hand up to shield her eyes as Alex approached a small cottage. All the fears that she had spent the morning pushing away now slammed into her like a crashing wave. She waited, every muscle tense, to see who would greet her husband at this lowly fisherman’s cottage.

When the door opened, Glynis recognized Ùna’s dark golden hair. Dread clawed at her belly like a sea monster. When Alex held the flowers out to Ùna, Glynis sank to her knees in the tall grass. She felt as if a jagged blade was piercing her chest as her husband rested his hand on Ùna’s shoulder, ducked under the low doorway, and shut the cottage door behind him.

Glynis was so light-headed that she dropped her head to her knees to keep from fainting. All the pieces fell into place. Alex’s reluctance to arrange the marriage for Peiter. Ùna’s daily visits to the castle. The lass did not avoid looking at other men because she was shy, but because she belonged to the warrior who was the keeper of Dunfaileag Castle.

Glynis covered her face with hands. The lass was so young!

Although Glynis had been lulled into trusting Alex, down deep she knew that she would never be enough for him. Eventually, Alex’s desire for her would fade, and he would take another. And then another. But Glynis thought he would go to a woman like Catherine Campbell or that Mary back on Skye.

Ùna was just a poor fisherman’s daughter. Glynis never, ever thought Alex would take advantage of an inexperienced young lass who was in no position to refuse him.

How had she been so mistaken about what kind of man her husband was?

Glynis vomited into the grass until there was nothing left inside her. Then she sat on the ground with her head between her knees. When she had the strength to stand, she rose on shaky legs.

Nothing in her life would be as hard as what she had to do now.

She did not allow herself to look back at the cottage where her husband was sinning with a sweet, golden-haired lass. Instead, Glynis balled her hands into fists, stiffened her back, and started back up the path to the castle to pack her things.

She would leave this very day.

CHAPTER 44

Alex sensed there was a bad wind blowing his way as soon as he entered the gate. The men avoided his gaze, and the women sent him accusatory glances from the corners of their eyes. Surely, the body could not have been found already. Alex went over in his mind how he’d tied the rock to it.

He looked for Glynis in the hall. When he did not find her there, he went up to their bedchamber, taking the steps two at a time, and flung the door open. Glynis was on her knees before an open chest, surrounded by gowns. When she looked up, he saw that she had been weeping.

“Glynis, what happened?”

“Perhaps ye should tell me,” she said in a strained voice. She picked up a gown and folded it into a neat rectangle with swift, sharp movements.

“Why are ye angry?” he asked. “And what are ye doing with your clothes?”

“I am leaving.”

Panic rose in Alex’s throat. “I thought we were past this, Glynis. Why would ye leave me? How can ye?”

When she looked up, her eyes were wet but sharp as daggers. “I told ye I would leave if ye took another woman.”

“But I haven’t!” Alex said. “I gave ye a promise, and I swear I haven’t broken it.”

“Another wife might not be troubled by it,” she said, as she folded another gown into a perfect square. “But I told ye I would leave if ye were unfaithful, and I am.”

“Who said something to make ye believe this?” he demanded. “Ye accuse me without even asking me for the truth.”

“So I’ll ask ye,” she said, glaring up at him. “Where were ye last night?”

Ach, the one thing he could not tell her. He had given his word. Besides, Alex was not entirely certain Glynis would think any better of him for covering up a murder and dropping the body at sea. He scratched his neck as he tried to think how best to answer her. It crossed his mind to make up a good story, but he’d promised never to lie to her.

“I can’t say now, but I will tell ye as soon as I can.”

“I thought ye would be quicker with a lie, being such a good storyteller,” she said. “But ye must be tired.”

“I don’t take well to being called a liar.” Alex was starting to get angry himself. “And stop folding your damned clothes.”

“Ye are a liar,” she said, her voice breaking. “I saw ye myself this afternoon.”

“Then your eyes deceive ye.”

“Ye brought flowers to her cottage.”

Alex could not believe what she was accusing him of. “Ye think I’ve taken Ùna to bed?” he said, spreading out his arms. “Why, she’s just a child!”

“Seventeen is no child.” Glynis pressed her lips together and resumed her methodical folding.

It felt like a blow to the chest to learn that Glynis believed he would lure a young lass to his bed who was so fearful of men she could not look one in the eye. After knowing him this long—after living with him as his wife—how could Glynis think so little of him?

“I won’t be here when Ùna brings your child to the castle,” Glynis said, as she slammed a pair of shoes into the chest. “Did ye think I would be happy to care for all your bastards?”

The blood in Alex’s veins went as cold as January ice. “Is that how ye feel about my daughter?”

“Not Sorcha,” Glynis said quickly. “But that doesn’t mean I want a houseful of children reminding me of your infidelities.”

Alex banged the lid of the chest shut with his fist and picked Glynis up by her arms. “I have done nothing wrong, so ye will not leave.”

* * *

Alex sat in the hall drinking. From here, he could see the stairs and be sure his wife did not leave the castle without his knowledge. When Bessie started into the hall with Sorcha, she took one look at him and hurried Sorcha outside. The rest of the household showed the good sense to leave him alone as well.

Outrage pounded through Alex’s head, blocking out all else. He had complied with Glynis’s rules, done nothing to merit her accusations and ill regard. If she came down the stairs looking for a servant to carry her trunk to the nearest boat, they were going to have one hell of a fight.

All Alex had wanted was a peaceful home for his daughter. Was that too much to ask? No shouting matches, just a steady woman who wouldn’t throw crockery—and who wouldn’t abandon them. Instead, he had gotten exactly what he did not want: thrown out of his wife’s bed, fighting and shouting, and his wife packing to leave him. He had spent his entire life trying to avoid living as his parents had, only to end up the same.

Hours went by. Alex heard noise coming from down below and suspected the entire household was crowded in the kitchen between the spits and the worktables eating their supper. And still, Glynis did not show her face. At least she had not attempted to leave.

Alex poured the last of his jug of whiskey into his cup and drank it down. Perhaps Glynis regretted her harsh judgment of him—as well she should. She was a prideful woman. Likely, she was stewing up there, gathering herself to apologize to him.

He deserved an apology.

And he was tired of waiting for it. He would go up there now, and they would settle this trouble between them. He marched up the stairs to their bedchamber door and lifted the latch. But when he pushed, the door did not open. He shook the handle, not believing she would do it.

Glynis had barred the goddamned door.

“Glynis!” he shouted as he beat his fist against it. “Open this door to your husband. Now.”

“Go away.” Her voice came faintly through the door.

“Ye will regret this, I swear it.”

Alex never got upset, but he was upset now. Anger pounded through every bone and muscle as he stormed down the stairs, grabbed an axe from the wall, and stomped back up with it.

“Stand back from the door!” he shouted.

Crack! He swung the axe so hard that it reverberated up his arms. Glynis did not scream, proving his wife had ice in her veins.

Crack! Crack! Crack! His violence against the door felt good. When the boards gave way with a satisfying crunch, he reached his arm through the hole and slid the bar back. Then he kicked the door with such force that it swung open and banged against the wall.

And there, sitting on her trunk with her arms crossed, was his wife. He was a wronged husband, an angry man with an axe in his hands, and Glynis glared at him as if she had nothing to fear. She didn’t, of course—but she should have had the good sense to look frightened. Did she not respect him at all?

He crossed the room and stood over her. His chest was heaving, his ears rang. The only sign that an enraged Highland warrior concerned Glynis one whit was a slight twitch in her left eye.

“Ye will not lock our bedchamber door to me again,” he said.

“I told ye,” she said, calm as could be, “I wouldn’t share a bed with ye if ye took another woman.”

“I promised ye I wouldn’t take another woman,” he said, “and I haven’t done so.”

“Ye expect me to believe that?” She stood up, clenching her fists at her sides. “A man like you will say anything.”

“A man like me?” Anger tightened his throat, stretching out his words. “Just what do ye mean by that, Glynis MacNeil?”

“I mean a man whose word means nothing,” she said. “I should have married Lord D’Arcy. He was an honorable man. He would have kept his vows.”

Alex felt as if his head were exploding. Until now, he had believed D’Arcy had told her of his true intentions.

“Perhaps I’ll take D’Arcy up on his offer now,” she said.

“What, and be his whore?” Alex said. “Because that is what D’Arcy was offering ye. He would not have said vows to ye, as I did.”

Upset as Alex was with her, he would not have told Glynis of D’Arcy’s insult even now, except that he couldn’t trust her not to go traipsing off across the breadth of Scotland to find the Frenchman.

“Nay, D’Arcy’s intentions were good,” Glynis said.

“Ye are a fool, woman,” Alex said. “D’Arcy has a wife in France.”

Glynis’s lips parted, and she blinked several times. In a whisper, she said, “That cannot be true.”

Her obvious disappointment cut Alex to the core.

“Aye, your white knight has a wife—probably one who came with a title,” he spat out. “And when she joins him in Scotland, that sense of honor that ye so esteem would require D’Arcy to send ye away. Ye see, he would think it cruel to upset his wife by keeping his whore in his home while she was there.”

Glynis sat down on the trunk with a thump.

“The French don’t treat their bastard children like Highland men do,” Alex continued. “Though D’Arcy might feel honor-bound to provide for any bairns ye had by him, he would never claim your children or allow them to set foot in his home and contaminate his legitimate heirs.”

Alex saw the shock in her eyes, but it was nothing to the well of pain in his chest.

“I have much to answer for in this life,” he said, “but ye are the one who has been unfaithful in this marriage.”

“Me?” she said, slapping her hand against her chest. “I am not the sinner here.”

“Ye kept another man in your heart, Glynis.” He could see that now.

“I didn’t—”

Alex cut her off—he didn’t want to hear her excuses. “My promise was that I would not take another woman so long as ye shared my bed,” he said. “I have needs like any man, and if ye won’t have me…”

He let that hang in the air before he spelled it out for her.

“I know how to please a lass under the blankets,” he said, leaning down close to her. “I’ll have no trouble finding replacements for ye.”

Alex wanted Glynis to lie awake thinking of him with another woman, making her scream with pleasure. He wanted her to regret what she’d done and call him back.

He turned on his heel and left her.

The axe was still in his hand.

CHAPTER 45

After dark, Alex went to the cottage to see how Seamus and Ùna fared. So far as he could tell, they were holding up better than he was. He did not want to sleep in the hall with all his men pretending not to notice that his wife had kicked him out of their bedchamber. So, instead of returning to the castle, he went down to the beach to make his cold bed in the war galley.

As he lay looking up at the stars, Alex could not help thinking about all the nights he and Glynis had slept together outdoors on their journey to Edinburgh. Ach, how had it come to this? He thought his threat to take other women to bed would bring Glynis around. It hurt more than his pride that it hadn’t.

When he awoke in the morning, he sat on the beach staring out at the sea. He had worked hard every day for the last two months, rebuilding the castle, training the men, chasing pirates away from these shores. But he didn’t feel like doing a damned thing today.

He heard a giggle and turned to see his daughter running toward him with her hair flying out behind her. When she crashed into him and flung her arms around his neck, he closed his eyes. At least he still had her. God, he loved this child.

Bessie was breathless when she caught up to her charge. “Sorcha, go to the kitchen and bring your father back some breakfast.”

Sorcha appeared pleased to be entrusted with the task. When she had scampered off, Bessie remained with her feet planted in front of him.

“Do ye want to accuse me of something as well?” Alex asked.

“Nay.” Bessie bit her lip, looking uneasy. “Mistress Glynis would no be pleased to have me tell ye this, but I think ye have a right to know.”

The back of Alex’s neck prickled. “What is it that I have a right to know?”

The woman fidgeted with her hands for a time before she finally spoke again. “Your wife is with child.”

Pain seared through him, blinding him with its force. Glynis was carrying his child, and she had not seen fit to tell him. How long had she kept this from him—and why? Had she been planning to leave him all along?

* * *

“Have ye seen your father?” Glynis asked Sorcha when she came barreling up the steps of the keep.

Sorcha pointed in the direction of the beach.

“Don’t run inside,” she said, and touched Sorcha’s cheek.

Glynis found Alex sitting alone on the beach. When she stood beside him, he did not acknowledge her.

“I am going home,” she said.

“This is your home.”

“I’m returning to my father’s,” she said. “Ye can supply a boat, or I’ll steal one.”

Alex continued staring off at the horizon as he spoke. “Did ye plan to leave and never tell me about the child?”

Glynis sucked in her breath. How did he know about the babe? Although he still did not look at her, she could feel the anger and hurt vibrating off him. Ach, it had been a mistake not to tell him.

“I haven’t known long,” she said in a soft voice. “My fluxes have always been irregular, and I thought I was barren, so I didn’t believe it at first. I wanted to be certain before I told ye.”

“But ye did know, and ye kept it from me.”

Glynis had wanted to save him from the disappointment if it turned out she was wrong. But she had been going to tell him soon.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “But it doesn’t change anything.”

“It doesn’t?” he said, his voice dangerously low. He turned to face her, and his eyes burned through her like a torch to parchment.

“I can’t live with ye now.” Her voice shook, despite herself. “I want to go to my father’s.”

“If you’re that set upon it,” Alex said, his eyes hard as ice, “then I will allow ye to leave after the child is born.”

“After? But that’s months away,” she said. “Ye can’t keep me here.”

“As I said, ye may leave after the child is born, if that is what ye want,” Alex said. “But the child stays here.”

“Ye can’t mean it,” Glynis said, her voice coming out high-pitched. “Ye wouldn’t try to force me to stay by threatening to keep my child.”

“I’m no threatening, and ye can do as ye like,” he said. “But the child will remain here.”

“Ye wouldn’t do that to me,” Glynis said, looking into his face for a bit of softness and finding none. “Nay, ye can’t hate me that much.”

“Ye are the one leaving. I asked ye to stay.” Alex got to his feet. “If ye are separated from our child, it’s by your own choice. I won’t take the blame for that.”

“I won’t let ye keep my child from me,” Glynis said, clenching her fists.

“Under Highland law, it is a father’s right.”

“But most fathers don’t enforce it—at least not when the child is young.” Glynis grabbed his sleeve, but he shook her off. “Alex, ye wouldn’t do this.”

“Since ye believe I would seduce that poor, frightened lass, Ùna,” Alex said, glaring down at her, “than ye know I’m capable of anything.”

CHAPTER 46

The tension was so thick between her and Alex at the table that Glynis could not eat. It had been like this for a week now, and she was feeling the strain—as was the entire household. When she set down her eating knife, she felt Alex’s eyes on her and could not help giving him a sideways glance. There were lines around his eyes, and his expression was grim.

Smiles rarely graced his countenance these days—except when he was playing with Sorcha. Unlike most fathers of daughters, he paid close attention to her. He treated her as the special and unexpected gift that she was to him. If Glynis took her new babe away with her, she would be denying the child a wonderful father. But it was worse to separate a babe from its mother, was it not?

Nothing she did would be right.

Glynis got up from the table without eating a bite and left the hall. She was going down the steps of the keep when Alex caught her arm and spun her around.

“God damn it, Glynis, ye have to eat,” Alex said.

“Ye wouldn’t care if I starved to death, except for the child I carry.”

Alex took a step back, as if her words had dealt him a physical blow. “After all that was between us, how can ye say that to me?”

It was a harsh thing to say, and she would not have if she were not so tired. She found it hard to sleep in their bed alone.

“Ye win, Glynis.” Alex sank onto the steps and held his head in his hands. “I’ve tried to do what I thought was best, but nothing has turned out as I wanted it to.”

Win? She could not feel worse. Oh, God, she hated to see him like this.

“Are ye saying you’ll let me go?” she asked.

“Aye. And take Sorcha with ye,” he said, sounding as though the words were wrenched from him. “I can’t provide her with the family she needs.”

Glynis sat beside him on the step. “Nay, Alex. I cannot do that.”

“You’ve become a mother to her,” Alex said. “Sorcha needs ye more than she needs me.”

“Ye know I love her with all my heart, but I could never ask ye to give her up.”

He turned, and his gaze settled on her like a cold sea mist. “And yet, ye asked me to give up my other child with no hesitation.”

“I didn’t think—”

“Do ye believe I will care less for that child?” he demanded. “That the babe we made together would be any less precious to me than Sorcha?”

Glynis dropped her gaze to her lap and shook her head.

“If ye know that,” Alex said, “then how can ye believe I would risk everything that matters to me for a tumble with some lass I barely know?”

“Ye were never particular before,” Glynis said in a low voice.

“I had nothing to lose before.” Alex stood up. “Go when ye wish. I’ll not stop ye.”

* * *

Sorcha flicked her eyes from her father to her mother and back again. Their sadness weighed down on her chest. She squeezed what was left of her doll. Bessie tried to hide Marie, but Sorcha always found her again.

She knew her parents had been waiting for her to speak. Sometimes when she was alone she could make the words that were always in her head come out of her mouth. But that was before she learned her mother was leaving. She’d heard whispers about it all over the castle.

Sorcha wanted to tell her mother not to leave them. She wanted to ask if it was her fault that she was. But her chest grew tighter and tighter, trapping the words inside.

CHAPTER 47

Glynis was leaving tomorrow.

As Alex had always suspected, he was incapable of keeping a woman happy for long, incapable of being the good husband and father he wanted to be. Blood will out.

But he missed Glynis so much his heart ached with every step. He had tried shouting at her, reasoning with her, and threatening her, and he had come very close to begging her. Now he would make one last attempt.

He wanted her to stay with him because she trusted and respected him. Ah hell, he wanted her to stay because she cared for him. But with her leaving in the morning, Alex was desperate enough that he didn’t care if she stayed with him for the wrong reasons—so long as she stayed.

It was time to play to his strengths. He would get her into bed. And then he would drive Glynis so mad with passion that—against her better judgment and despite the lies she believed about him—she would take him back.

And even if she did not, Alex would have one last night with her.

* * *

Glynis sat by the window stitching because she had finished her packing and had nothing else to do. Although she’d rather be outside, it was better for both her and Alex if she avoided him until she boarded the boat tomorrow. It was one of those fine autumn days when they had a lull between storms and the sun shone as if it was summer. But in her heart, there was no break in the rains.

Alex’s laughter floated through the window, and her needle stopped. Alex was by nature full of good humor—and yet, how long had it been since she’d heard his laugh? She’d missed the sound of it.

Had he sought out another woman because Glynis drained the joy out of him? She was all hard edges and strong opinions. If she were easy and sweet-natured like her sisters, perhaps Alex would not have strayed. Or perhaps she could live with his straying.

But she was the difficult, demanding person she was.

Glynis set aside her stitching and picked up the silver medallion of Saint Michael from the table beside her. She twirled the medallion by its heavy chain and watched it spin, thinking of the day it had caught her eye in one of the shops that her aunt and uncle had dragged her into. When she left Edinburgh in a rush, she had tucked it away in her bag and forgotten it until she came across it while packing today.

She stopped it spinning and rubbed her thumb over it. She had traded one of her rings for the medallion because the image of Saint Michael, the warrior angel, looked so much like Alex.

Alex’s laughter came in through the window again. Drawn by the sound as if it were a string tied to her heart, Glynis set the medallion on the table and went to the window. The sight of Alex in the castle yard below stole her breath away. With graceful, swift movements, he was demonstrating the use of the claymore to a few of the older lads.

Alex with a sword in his hands was pure masculine beauty in motion. Glynis’s throat went dry as he danced and spun and sliced his blade through the air with deadly force. Her fingers itched to touch the powerful muscles of his chest, arms, and back as he swung the heavy sword from side to side with sure, smooth strokes.

When the men stopped to rest, Alex slapped one of the lads on the back. His broad smile, showing even white teeth, reminded her again of how little she had seen it of late. Long after Alex disappeared from view and the voices of the men faded, Glynis remained at the window. She stared off at the sea, remembering how Alex used to look at her with a sparkle in his eyes.

“Glynis.”

Her heart went to her throat at the sound of his voice behind her. When she turned, Alex stood in the doorway, his long, lean body propped against the door frame. He had not put on his shirt, and his skin glowed as if it still retained the warmth of the sun.

“I didn’t hear ye,” she said stupidly, as she dragged her gaze to his face—which was no safer than his body.

She loved everything about that face, from his stubbled jaw, to the strong planes of his cheekbones and forehead, to his wide, sensuous mouth. When she met his green eyes, they sizzled with the knowledge of every inch of her body.

Did Alex say more than her name? Glynis’s heart was banging so hard against her chest she could have missed it.

She tensed, trying desperately to convince herself to stop him if he came nearer. But then, a knot of disappointment tightened in her stomach when he did not. Instead, he crossed the room to the chair, watching her from the corner of his eye. From the way his mouth quirked up at the corner, Alex knew precisely the effect he had on her. Ach, he was a devil.

Alex sat in the chair, put his hands behind his head, and stretched out his long, muscular legs. Her breathing grew shallow as he let his gaze burn over her as if she wore nothing.

“Come sit on my lap, Glynis,” he said, crooking his finger. “Ye know ye want to.”

“I don’t,” she said, though her body was tilting toward him like a flower to the sun. How she longed for his touch.

Alex laughed. “Ye have always been a poor liar.”

“That is no a bad quality,” she said, stiffening.

“Aye, ’tis one of your charms,” he said, giving her a smile that sent a wave of desire through her. “I have a proposition for ye.”

“A proposition?” Her life had changed the last time he had said that to her.

“Come sit with me, and I’ll tell ye what it is.”

He was not angry and yelling at her. Alex was his old, lighthearted self, so without stopping to ask herself why, she went to stand beside him. Instead of trying to pull her into his lap, he ran his finger slowly up her arm. She could hardly push him away for such a small gesture, and yet the slow, light touch set all her senses alight. Her entire being focused on the course of his finger sliding up her arm under her loose sleeve.

When his hands enclosed her waist and lifted her onto his lap, no word of objection would come out of her mouth. She longed to close her eyes and lean against his solid frame. Why, why, why could she not just accept his nature, take the good with the bad? Alex could not help that women were drawn to him like flies to honey. He was who he was.

And yet, Glynis wanted to be the only one. She had to be.

“This is no so bad, aye?” he asked, as he played with her hair.

She bit back a sigh when his fingers grazed her neck. Finally, she remembered to ask, “What is this proposition?”

“I know ye miss me in bed,” Alex said. “And God knows, I miss you.”

He missed her. It should not please her so much to hear him say it.

“That’s not enough,” she said—though at the moment, it nearly was.

When she said it, she thought she saw a flash of pain cross Alex’s face, before he covered it with another easy smile.

“I’m a sentimental man,” Alex said, as he brushed his knuckles across her cheek. “I think we should have one more night together to remember each other by.”

“Nay” caught in her throat when she felt his breath on her ear.

“I know how to please ye,” he whispered.

When Alex nuzzled her neck the way she liked, Glynis leaned her head back. Alex did know how to please her. She ached for him to touch every valley and crest of her body.

His nearness worked an enchantment upon her. She could form no clear thoughts while his hands slid over her and he lowered his mouth to hers. When his lips touched hers, she sank into him. Everything about him—his smell, his kiss, his heat—was familiar and filled the empty spaces he had left inside her.

Alex moved slowly, as if he were afraid of waking her from her dream. She was so lost in him that she barely noticed when he carried her to the bed. He touched her with a tenderness that made her heart bleed. No matter what he did with someone else, she knew he did care for her. It was in the way he held her.

They were naked without her knowing or caring how it happened. He said her name over and over as he ran sweet kisses down her arms and pressed her palm against his rough cheek. With his gentleness, he shattered every defense she had erected against him. She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling too much to bear looking into his face.

Even while he was in her arms, she was grieving for the loss of him. She hurt inside, and she knew she was hurting him badly, too, but she didn’t see a way to stop wounding each other except by leaving.

Glynis held him tightly to her, her deep need for him filling her with a quiet desperation. If he told her now that he loved her, she would believe him.

“Ye won’t forget me,” he said before he thrust inside her.

“I could not,” she whispered. “Not ever.”

“Ye will think of me in the night.” He held her face between his hands and forced her to look into his eyes. “And ye will wish I was there.”

“Aye.” She wrapped her arms and legs around him and clung to him as he moved against her. She dug her nails into his back as her need for him grew until she felt as if she would burst with it. Tears rolled down the sides of her face as emotions too big to contain swirled inside her. She felt as if she were drowning in her love for him.

Why didn’t he love her? Why did he not care enough?

As her body shook with the force of her release, she felt as if she touched both Heaven and Hell.

“Oh, God, Glynis, how can ye leave me?” Alex said just before he exploded inside her—and she knew he had not meant to make this last, heart-wrenching plea.

Afterward, he held her with his face buried in her hair. She wanted to give in, to tell him what he wanted to hear, to stay in the warmth of his arms and never leave. If he had ever once said he loved her, she would not have held out. But he did not.

* * *

When Bessie came in the next morning, Glynis sat up quickly and dried her face on the bedclothes.

“Tormond is ready to take ye in the war galley,” Bessie said. “’Tis no my place to say it, but what are ye doing leaving such a fine man? ’Tis no making ye happy.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Glynis admitted. “I haven’t even told Sorcha yet. I suppose I was waiting until I was certain I wouldn’t change my mind.”

But Sorcha was a child who knew things without being told.

“It will break her heart to leave her father,” Bessie said.

With that indictment ringing in her ears, Glynis dressed and went downstairs. She was so full of doubts that she did not know if she still intended to get on the boat or not. She should have given herself more time to think this through instead of insisting on leaving right away. For once, she wished she knew how to do things by halves.

She found Alex sitting alone with Sorcha downstairs. The hall was rarely empty so it was evident everyone had left to give him time with his daughter.

“Your mother and I need to talk,” he said to Sorcha. “Have one of the stable lads take ye to visit the horses, and I’ll come find ye there as soon as we’re done.”

Sorcha shifted her gaze back and forth between them, her face far too solemn for such a young child. Then she kissed her father’s cheek and left the hall with her feet dragging.

“Tell Sorcha whatever ye think best,” Alex said, pain etched on his face as he watched Sorcha leave. “She seemed close to speaking not long ago. I’m hoping she will once ye have her settled.”

Glynis opened her mouth to tell him that she was not sure she wanted to go, but Alex held his hand up.

“This is hard, so let me finish and be done with it,” he said. “If our babe is a boy, I want ye to send him to me for his training when he is old enough. Our world is dangerous, and a boy must have fighting skills to survive and to do his part to protect his clan. I know your father is dear to ye, but he’s growing old. I’ll train your brother as well, if ye wish to send him to me.”

Alex was not the shallow charmer she had once thought him, though the man could charm a saint out of her shift. He would do anything for his children—even give them up. Although Glynis had always prided herself on having the resolve to do what was right, she doubted she had the strength of character to make that sacrifice.

Was she wrong about Alex in other ways as well? He never denied his philandering past—but had he changed? Glynis was always decisive and certain in her opinions, but for once, she did not know what to believe or what she should do.

“I won’t be the one to set aside the marriage,” Alex said in a calm, steady voice. “And I’m asking ye to wait the full year before ye do it.”

Another man would not put his pride aside and leave the door open to her like this, after she was the one to leave. Glynis felt as bleak as November rains as Alex stood and walked away. She wanted to trust him. She was almost sure she had misjudged him.

And despite her doubts, she realized she could not face life without him.

“Alex!” she called out.

But her voice was drowned out by the shouts coming through the open door of the keep. When Alex ran outside, she followed him out. She came to an abrupt halt at the top of the steps.

A war galley had entered their small bay and was sailing straight for the castle.

CHAPTER 48

It’s our chieftain’s ship,” Alex called out to his men.

When he ran down to the shore to meet it, Glynis picked up her skirts and followed with all the others. She reached the beach in time to see Connor climb down from the galley, followed closely by Ian and Duncan.

“What’s happened?” Alex asked after thumping his old friends on the back. “Ye wouldn’t bring so many warriors from Skye for just a friendly visit.”

“We can’t wait any longer to deal with my vile uncles,” Connor said.

“What have they done now?” Alex asked.

“Angus and Torquil were guests at Banranald’s home while he was away,” Connor said. “And Angus tried to rape Banranald’s wife.”

“Banranald’s is not far from here,” Alex said. “How did ye hear before I did?”

“The wife Angus tried to rape is a Clanranald, like our mothers,” Ian said, taking over the story. “She fled to her Clanranald kin, and their chieftain sent an official emissary to Connor at once demanding justice.”

Glynis could not help interrupting the men to ask, “Magnus Clanranald has stirred himself over an offense against one of his clanswomen?”

“The Clanranalds removed Magnus from the chieftainship,” Duncan told her. “They went so far as to ban his line from the chieftainship forever.”

Glynis had never heard of such a thing—but if anyone merited such treatment, it was Magnus.

“So who is their new chieftain?” Alex asked.

“That is the one piece of good news,” Connor said. “The chieftainship fell to our mothers’ cousin and your namesake, Alexander. As ye know, he’s a good man. He wants both Angus and Torquil delivered to him for punishment—and I want Hugh. They’ll be together.”

“While we search the outer isles,” Ian said, “the Clanranalds are looking for them in the isles to the south and east.”

“I haven’t seen your uncles’ ships,” Alex said. “Have ye heard where we might find them?”

No one answered, but Duncan, Connor, and Ian all avoided looking at Glynis.

“Barra?” Glynis asked, her heart slamming against her chest. “They’re going to Barra?”

“We don’t know that for certain,” Connor said. “But we have heard rumors that my uncles are planning a big raid on the MacNeils with both their ships.”

“Your father will need our help,” Alex said, touching Glynis’s arm, before he turned to the others. “My men will be ready to sail in a quarter of an hour.”

After shouting orders to his men, Alex took Glynis by the arm and led her up the beach a short distance away from the others.

“It’s too dangerous for ye to go to your father’s just now,” he said. “And I need ye here while I’m gone.”

“Of course.”

“I’ll leave half my men here to protect you and the castle. With the pirates sailing toward Barra, that should be sufficient,” Alex said, but he looked uneasy.

“We’ll be fine,” Glynis assured him. “But ye must save my brother and my sisters. The girls are delicate. They can’t—”

“Shh, don’t fret,” Alex said, and touched her cheek. “I won’t let anything happen to them.”

“I’m so grateful to ye for going to them.”

Even though she was leaving him, Alex was honoring the bond he had made to protect her family and her clan. Glynis hated to have him sailing off into danger with things so wrong between them. As he left her to rejoin the other men, she remembered that she was wearing the silver medallion. She had put it on when she dressed, to comfort herself.

“Wait!” she called after him. “I have something for ye.”

She ran to where he stood at the water’s edge and stretched up on her toes to put the chain around his neck.

“It’s of Saint Michael, God’s warrior angel,” she said, holding the medallion up for him to see. “He’s supposed to give special protection to both horsemen and sailors.”

“Ah, Glynis, that’s sweet of ye,” Alex said and put it inside his shirt, next to his heart. “But there’s nothing to worry about.”

“Be safe,” she said, as she rose up on her toes to kiss his cheek. When Alex’s arms came around her, she rested her head against his shoulder. She felt his chest rise and fall in a deep breath, then he kissed her hair.

She loved him so much.

Alex released her as Sorcha came running down to the beach, her hair flying out behind her. When she flung herself at Alex at full speed, he lifted her in his arms.

“I must go chase some pirates,” Alex said to her, making it sound like an adventure—which he probably thought it was. “But your mother will be here to look after ye.”

He kissed Sorcha and handed her to Glynis. Then he took his shield and his claymore from Seamus, who had carried them down to the shore. By now, the entire household had assembled on the beach, and Alex chose which men would go and which would stay.

As Alex’s ship set sail behind the other war galley, he stood at the rudder, his hair whipping in the wind. He waved his sword at them, looking like a Viking king.

Glynis held Sorcha’s hand and watched until Alex’s boat disappeared over the horizon. When she finally turned away, the only one left on the beach besides her and Sorcha was Seamus.

“Seamus, will ye take Sorcha up to Bessie at the castle for me?” Glynis asked.

She should have been brave enough to do this before. As soon as the two children were gone, Glynis found the path that led to the cottage where she had seen Alex take the flowers that awful day. Sweat broke out on her palms as Glynis remembered sitting in the tall grass with her head between her knees trying to get her breath back. But she had to find the truth.

When she reached the ancient cottage with the sagging roof, Glynis knocked before she could lose her nerve. No one answered for so long that she thought no one was home. But then the door finally creaked open, and Ùna stood in the doorway.

Ach, she was a lovely lass.

“I saw the ship sail,” Ùna said. “Is he gone?”

“My husband?” Glynis was surprised at the lass’s willingness to speak about Alex to her. “Aye, he’s gone.”

Ùna bit her lip and dropped her gaze to the ground. In a voice barely above a whisper, she asked, “Did he ask ye to come?”

“Why would he do that?”

Ùna looked up, her eyes wide. “So he didn’t tell ye about me?”

Glynis was about to ask why in the name of all that was holy did Ùna find it surprising that her lover had not told his wife about her…but nothing was fitting. The lass’s demeanor was all wrong.

“He said he wouldn’t tell,” Ùna said, dropping her gaze again. “I should have trusted him.”

“Perhaps we both should have.” O shluagh, what have I done? “Let me come in, and we’ll have a talk.”

Glynis was persistent, and before long, she got the whole tragic story out of the lass. As Ùna wept on her shoulder, Glynis felt a murderous rage against the man who called himself a father and committed unpardonable sins against this poor lass.

“Why did Alex not tell me?” she said under her breath.

“He kept telling me how good ye would be with me,” Ùna said. “But I made him promise not to tell ye because I was afraid.”

“You and Seamus will move into the castle today,” Glynis said, as she rubbed Ùna’s back. “Your father has been gone long enough, and with so many of our warriors off, it’s safer for ye there.”

Alex should have told her all about this. Ùna seemed so fragile, however, that Glynis could understand that he may have been afraid to add to her distress. And he had given his word to Ùna. As she was learning, he was a man who kept his promises.

But Glynis knew those were not the only reasons Alex had not told her. Her husband had wanted her to believe in him, to trust him without needing proof.

And she had failed him.

* * *

Three days later, Glynis and Sorcha were again on the beach below the castle. The wind was sharp enough to sting her face, but Glynis felt closer to Alex with just the sea between them.

“Your father will be home before long,” Glynis said, putting her hand on Sorcha’s shoulder. “All will be well with our family then.”

Sorcha’s face lit up like the sun breaking through the clouds. Although Glynis had never told Sorcha about her plan to leave Alex, the child had sensed the tension between them.

A short time later, Sorcha squatted beside a tide pool and, bouncing with excitement, waved Glynis over. Glynis was leaning over and squinting at the spiny sea urchin that Sorcha was pointing at when the castle bell began to ring.

Gong. Gong. Gong.

Glynis’s heart went to her throat. The bell was reserved as a warning for danger. When Glynis looked up at the castle, several of the men were shouting at her from the wall and pointing out to sea. She turned and saw a ship coming around the headland into the bay.

“Run!” She grabbed Sorcha’s hand, and they flew across the beach to the path.

Gong. Gong. Gong. The bell’s toll echoed off the hills and vibrated through Glynis’s bones. She had seen that ship before. But where?

As they scrambled up the steps carved into the rock beneath the castle, Glynis glanced at the horizon. Fear jolted through her limbs. There were three sails now.

“Faster, Sorcha!”

A guard ran out the gate to carry Sorcha the last few yards. As soon as they passed through it, others slammed the gate behind them. Inside, men were rushing to fetch weapons from the armory. Bessie was waiting for them and took Sorcha from the guard.

“Take her inside the keep,” Glynis said to Bessie. Then she saw Tormond, the man Alex had left in command, hurrying toward her. He was a man of fifty with bulging biceps and iron-gray hair.

“Do ye recognize the ships?” Glynis asked him.

“Two of them belong to the MacDonald pirates,” Tormond said.

So it was Hugh MacDonald’s ship she had recognized from the time he had attacked Barra while Alex and Duncan were there.

“I have my suspicions about the third,” Tormond said. “I was hoping ye could take a closer look at it.”

“Me?”

Glynis could not imagine there was a ship she would know better than he, but she climbed up onto the wall with him. The three ships were much closer now. She held her hand up to shade her eyes—and gasped.

“Aye, I know that ship.” Glynis could not mistake the distinctive red dragon painted on the sail. “It is Magnus Clanranald’s.”

CHAPTER 49

Alex says ye have both courage and good sense so I’ll give ye the plain truth,” Tormond said. “They’ll have fifty men on each of those ships. It will be a miracle if we can hold the castle.”

“God help us,” Glynis said and crossed herself.

“Since we are clansman of the MacDonald pirates, I expect they’ll let us live, though they’ll strip the castle bare.” Tormond paused. “But they don’t respect womenfolk. They’ve raped their own clanswomen before.”

“I’ll send the women into the hills,” Glynis said.

“We’ll hold them off as long as we can.” Tormond touched her arm, an unexpectedly gentle gesture from the crusty man. “Alex warned us that Magnus is a special danger to ye, so take the child and hide yourself well.”

Glynis found most of the women gathered in the hall with Bessie and Sorcha. She counted them and came up two short.

“Everyone follow Bessie out the back!” Glynis shouted. “Ye must all run to the hills and hide as quick as ye can. Now hurry!”

“What about you, mistress?” Bessie asked.

“I’ll follow as soon as I’ve found the others,” Glynis said, pushing at Bessie’s back. “Go! Go!”

Glynis ran from room to room shouting. She finally found the two missing serving women hiding under a table in the kitchen and sent them to join the others.

Oh, God, she had forgotten about Ùna and Seamus. She could not let the pirates get their hands on poor Ùna. Glynis picked up her skirts and ran out of the keep, hoping to find them in the stables. Arrows fell around her as she ran across the bailey yard.

Seamus saw her coming and stood in the open doorway to the stable, waving her inside. Fortunately, Ùna was right behind him.

“Ye must come with me out the back,” Glynis said, grabbing Seamus’s hand. “Now hurry!”

The small door that led to the fields was hanging open. As they ran toward it, Glynis looked up and saw men fighting on top of the wall.

She shoved Ùna and Seamus out ahead of her and screamed at them, “Run as fast as ye can and hide!”

When Glynis ducked through the doorway behind them, she saw the women and children she’d sent out earlier scattered over the hills running for their lives. But one woman had turned around and was running back toward the castle.

By the saints, it was Bessie! Glynis ran out to meet her in the field. When she reached Bessie, they were both gasping for air.

“Sorcha isn’t with ye?” Bessie asked.

“I sent her with you.” Fear ran down Glynis’s limbs. “What happened?”

“I’m so sorry, mistress,” Bessie said, tears rolling down her cheeks. “I was taking the other women, like ye told me to, but Sorcha wanted to come with you. I thought ye were just upstairs, and she couldn’t miss ye. But after I came out, I started to worry, so I watched for ye.”

“I’ll find her,” Glynis said. When Bessie hesitated, Glynis pushed her. “I can’t be worrying about you as well, so go!”

When Glynis reentered the castle, she was met by the sounds of battle—the clank of swords on the top of the walls and the steady pounding of a battering ram reverberating against the front gate. Bang, bang, bang.

“Sorcha, Sorcha!” she called, as she ran through the keep, pausing to look behind doors and under benches and tables.

Where was the child? God, please, I must find her.

Glynis ran up the stairs. If Sorcha was hiding somewhere else in the castle, Glynis was losing precious time. The shouts of men fighting came in through the windows as she ran by them. The sounds were far too close—some of the attackers must have made it over the wall and into the castle yard.

“Sorcha! It’s me, Glynis,” she called out, as she searched the bedchamber she shared with Alex. She snatched her dirk from the side table, then dropped to her knees to look under the bed. Sorcha was not there. Time was running out. As she got up, her gaze fell on the chest at the bottom of the bed.

She rushed to it and threw open the lid—and saw Sorcha’s shining head of hair. Her daughter was tucked into a ball with her head down, and she was shaking violently.

“Sorcha, love, I’m here,” Glynis said, resting her hand on her back.

The child looked up at her with Alex’s green eyes. Then she sprang to her feet and threw her arms around Glynis’s neck. Glynis held her tight. Praise God, she’d found her.

Glynis jumped at the sound of wood cracking. It was followed by a roar of voices. She rushed to the window, carrying Sorcha with her. Ach, no. Pirates had broken through the gate and were pouring into the castle yard below.

It was too late to escape.

The scene below was chaotic, with men shouting and swinging their claymores. Glynis could not tell who was winning—or even who was on which side.

And then she saw Magnus, and the breath went out of her.

He stood alone in the middle of the yard, ignoring the fighting that was going on all around him. His claymore was drawn and ready, but he stood still, scanning the castle grounds with his black eyes. A chill went through her.

Magnus was looking for her.

When his gaze turned toward them, Glynis jumped back into the shadows with Sorcha. As he started toward the keep with a determined stride, Glynis forced back the urge to run blindly. They were trapped with nowhere to go.

She had to think. She must find a way to protect Sorcha.

“Ye found the best place in the whole castle to hide,” Glynis said, running her hand over the girl’s hair. “I’m going to put ye back inside the chest and cover ye up.”

Sorcha shook her head and dug her fingers into Glynis’s arms.

“Your da needs ye, so ye will do as I say and be a brave lass,” Glynis said in a firm voice. “No matter what ye hear, ye must not come out until these bad men are gone.”

Loud male voices sounded in the hall below.

“Ye must do this for me,” Glynis said, holding Sorcha’s face.

Glynis heard boots coming up the stairs and dropped the child into the chest. Her heart pounded in her ears as she flung off her cloak and laid it over Sorcha.

“I love ye,” she whispered, and closed the lid an instant before the door burst open.

When she turned, Magnus Clanranald filled the doorway.

“Glynis, my dear wife,” Magnus said, “ye have much to answer for.”

CHAPTER 50

Damn, where are they?” Alex said, as he scanned another empty bay. After finding the MacNeils safe and sound behind their castle walls, they had sailed into every inlet and loch on Barra.

“We’ve been led on a merry chase.” Duncan slammed his fist against the rail. “I’d wager Hugh put the word out that he intended to raid Barra to divert us from his true plan.”

“And he succeeded,” Connor said with his gaze fixed on the horizon. Someone who did not know him well would not guess from his calm exterior that the chieftain was as angry as Duncan. “We have little chance of finding Hugh until he strikes again. He and his men could be hiding in any of a thousand inlets in the Western Isles.”

“They could have gone to North Uist.” Alex’s heart started pounding as the thought struck him. “While we sailed south, along the west side of the islands, Hugh and his men could have sailed north on the east side.”

“Alex, they could be anywhere,” Connor said.

“Hugh has gone to attack my home.” The certainty of it settled over Alex like a cold, heavy fog. “We must go back at once.”

Connor did not look convinced, but he signaled to the men to turn the ships north.

“It does make sense that Hugh would attack Dunfaileag Castle,” Ian said. “It would be his way of thumbing his nose at ye, Connor. Your uncle knows ye have too many loyal men at Dunscaith now for him to take it, so instead he lures ye to the outer isles. And then, while he has us looking the other way, he takes the one castle we hold here.”

Hugh would enjoy making Connor look the fool by raiding Dunfaileag Castle while Connor—and his castle keeper—were close by with two war galleys full of men.

“I left my wife and daughter unprotected,” Alex said as he stared north at the endless sea.

He had feared all the wrong things: that he would not know how to keep Glynis happy, that he would hurt her, that she would steal his heart. All those things had come to pass, but they were nothing to this. In his vanity, it had never occurred to him that he would fail to protect his wife and daughter. That was the one duty a man had above all others.

Duncan came to stand beside him at the rail and rested a hand on Alex’s shoulder. “Even if Hugh has gone to Dunfaileag, he doesn’t have enough men to take the castle.”

* * *

From the corner of her eye, Glynis saw her dirk on the bed, where she must have set it when she went to open the chest. When Magnus took a step toward her, she lunged and grabbed it. Then she jumped back, holding it in front of her with both hands.

“Stay away from me, Magnus,” Glynis said. “I’ve knifed ye once, so ye know I have the nerve to do it.”

“I was dead drunk at the time—and fool enough not to expect my own wife to take a blade to me,” Magnus said. “I’m neither now. Put the blade down before ye get hurt.”

If it were not for Sorcha, she would have fought him anyway, as hopeless as that would be. But Glynis did not want her daughter to hear her being hurt.

“I’ll put it down,” she said, “as soon as ye tell me why ye are here and what ye plan to do with me.”

“Ye belong to me,” he said. “I’m taking ye away from your false husband.”

“But why? Ye never liked me.”

“What has that to do with it?” Magnus said, his face turning an ugly red. “Ye are my wife, and ye don’t leave unless I say so.”

She had been desperate at the time, but Glynis could see now that she should have found a quieter way to leave him. Cutting Magnus with a blade and stealing a boat was as foolish as poking a mad bull with a stick.

“Alex will find me and bring me back,” she said, trying to keep up her courage.

“No one has found us yet,” Magnus said with a sneer. “Our camp is hidden away behind an island on Loch Eyenort on South Uist.”

“Leave me here.” Though she knew pleading never worked with Magnus, she could not help herself. “Ye don’t want me for your wife. Ye never did.”

“Aye, I don’t want ye—you’re too dirty for me now,” he said. “But I will enjoy watching the other men share ye.”

Magnus would do it, too. He hated her that much.

“Put down the dirk, or you’ll die in this room,” Magnus said. “Make your choice quickly, for I’m sorely tempted by the notion of Alex MacDonald finding ye dead in a pool of blood on his bedchamber floor.”

Alex finding her would be bad enough, but it would be Sorcha who saw her body first. Glynis let her dagger clatter to the floor.

“Ye weren’t quick enough.” Magnus took two long strides toward her and put his boot on her dropped blade. “I saw how Alex MacDonald looked at ye—at my wife—and I want him to come home to find his bed soaked with your blood.”

The venom in Magnus’s black eyes made Glynis’s heart freeze in her chest.

“He might not recognize ye at first,” Magnus said, fingering the blade in his hand. “But eventually, he’ll know ye by the ring on your finger or a lock of your hair. And then he’ll spend the rest of his nights imagining how your screams filled his bedchamber.”

CHAPTER 51

Alex stared at the outline of Dunfaileag Castle in the distance. A thin reed of smoke rose from behind its walls. He tried to tell himself that there could be a dozen causes of fire in a castle—a turned lamp in the stable, a grease fire in the kitchen—all of them easily controlled and put out. And there were no ships in sight. Surely that was a good sign.

But as they sailed closer, he saw the broken boards of the gate. The pirates had been here and gone.

Duncan pushed the man at the rudder aside and guided their galley in with his sure hand, while Ian and Connor stood on either side of Alex without saying a word. And still, it seemed to take half his lifetime to sail the remaining distance to shore.

“Look,” Ian said, pointing. “There are women on the beach.”

Alex’s knees felt wobbly with relief. Tormond must have had time to send the women to hide in the hills. Slowly, Alex let his breath out.

Before the boat scraped the bottom, he was over the side and running to shore. The women surrounded him. None seemed hurt, but they were all talking at once. “Pirates! Pirates were here!”

Neither Glynis nor Sorcha were with the women, so they must be up at the castle. Several of his men were coming down the rock steps. Tormond, who was in the lead, was limping and had a long gash down the side of his face and a bloody sleeve.

“Ye did well to get the women out,” Alex greeted him. “Did we lose many men?”

“We fought as long as we could, but it was clear we couldn’t hold the castle,” Tormond said. “Once I thought the women were well away, I surrendered in the hope of saving as many men as I could.”

“Ye did right.” Alex started up the steps. He was anxious to see with his own eyes that his wife and daughter were safe.

Tormond followed behind him. “The pirates locked us in one of the storage rooms along the wall while they looted the castle.”

Alex reached the top and saw the smashed gate. Getting oak boards to replace it would take a long time, but there were worse things. He stepped through the gaping hole into the castle yard.

“How many attackers were there?” Alex asked, but he was wondering why Glynis and Sorcha were not running out to meet him.

“There were three ships, each full of men.”

“Three?” Alex asked, turning back to Tormond. “Who were they?”

“Two belonged to Hugh Dubh and his brothers,” Tormond said. “The third was Magnus Clanranald’s.”

Magnus’s? Alex felt as if the ground were sinking under him.

“Where is Glynis?” When Tormond did not answer right away, Alex grabbed him by his torn shirt and shook him. “Where is my wife?”

“We’ve searched everywhere.” Tormond could not meet Alex’s eyes. “But we couldn’t find her—or your daughter.”

* * *

Glynis’s spirits sank lower the farther they sailed into Loch Eyenort. God protect her, for it could be weeks before Alex found her. Loch Eyenort had so many bays and islands that even if Alex came here on his search, he could easily miss her.

Glynis rubbed the blood on her forehead with her sleeve. At least she was not on the same boat as Magnus.

“If ye leave that cut alone, it might stop bleeding.”

Glynis looked up to find Hugh Dubh standing over her. Though Hugh’s weathered face made him look older than his thirty-odd years, he had the powerful build of a man in his prime.

“If ye are worried I might die on ye,” Glynis snapped, “then ye should give me something to bind this wound.”

All she’d suffered was a nick—and a long moment of terror in which she believed she would die at Magnus’s hands. Hugh had pulled Magnus off of her just in time. In the argument that ensued between the two men, Hugh had taken the position that a live hostage was of greater value than a dead one.

“Ye could show a wee bit of appreciation after I saved your life,” Hugh said, giving her what he must have believed was a charming smile.

“Ye didn’t do it for me,” she said. “Ye did it for the gold my husband and father will give ye for my return.”

“I’ll be getting more than gold for ye, lass,” Hugh said, as he leaned back against the rail and folded his arms across his broad chest.

Hugh was baiting her. Glynis knew it, and yet she had to ask. “What else?”

“I want vengeance, just as Magnus does,” Hugh said. “But Magnus is a simple man, sorely lacking in patience. Unlike him, I’ll enjoy the game, get my revenge on my nephew, and end up with the gold as well.”

Hugh was vain. If she could prick his pride, he might tell her what this game was.

“Ye believe ye can get the better of Connor?” Glynis asked. “They say he is verra clever.”

“He is that, but Connor also has a great weakness.” Hugh nodded to himself as he looked off into the distance. “Connor would give his life without hesitation for any one of those three—Alex, Ian, or Duncan.”

That was true of each of the four men. Glynis wondered how Hugh intended to use Connor’s loyalty against him.

“Everyone in the isles knew of Alex’s vow never to wed,” Hugh said. “So when I heard he’d taken a bride, I knew it could only be because Alex had found a woman he simply had to have or die.”

“It wasn’t like that.” Glynis said, giving him a sideways glance. “Alex needed a mother for his daughter, and I was close at hand.”

Hugh barked out a laugh. “‘Tis usually men who are the fools.”

Glynis had been a fool, but she wasn’t admitting it to Hugh. “The opinion of a thieving pirate means less than nothing to me.”

“Alex must like a sharp tongue.” Hugh was drumming his fingers on the rail, jarring her nerves. “I believe he’ll do anything to get ye back. And my nephew Connor would do anything for Alex.”

“Connor is a good man,” Glynis said. “I don’t see how the two of ye can share the same blood.”

“I confess I find it surprising myself,” Hugh said, scratching his beard. “Loyalty is a flaw in a Highland chief—and it will cost Connor his life.”

Glynis turned to face Hugh. “His life?”

“Aye.” Hugh had the golden eyes of a wolf. “And you, lass, are the bait in my trap. The four of them will come together for ye, and I’ll be waiting.”

Hugh had planned it all along. He had lured Connor and the others to the outer isles for the very purpose of trapping them.

“This is the perfect place.” Hugh pointed to a small island in the loch as they sailed into the narrow channel between it and the shore. “I’ll have half my men hidden on the island, there, across from my camp. We’ll have two chains below the water between the island and the shore that we’ll pull up to trap their boat in the middle so they can’t escape.”

“They’re keen warriors—they’ll sense trouble,” she said, hoping it was true.

“They’ll sail right into the trap when they see ye tied to a log on the beach, half naked,” Hugh said, smiling to himself. “Ach, that’s sure to drive Alex blind with rage.”

“You’ve wasted your time. Alex won’t come for me,” she said, trying her best to keep her voice steady. “Ye know his reputation. He’s tired of me already.”

“If that’s the case, I’ll be so disappointed that I’ll give ye to Magnus—after my brothers have a turn.” Hugh laughed. “But then, I’d planned to do that in the end anyway.”

* * *

The words were important. In the blackness, Sorcha practiced them over and over in her head so she would not forget them. Then she whispered them, testing the sounds with her mouth.

She had almost forgotten the dark, dirty room with the big mice where her father found her. But the memory came back to her in this small, dark place and threatened to push the words out of her head again. She breathed in the smell of her mother in the clothes that surrounded her.

She heard voices, but they were not her father’s, so she covered her ears and mouthed the words until the voices went away. Still, the pounding of her heart made it hard to hear the words.

But she would be strong like the warrior queen, Scáthach.

She would be strong like her mother.

CHAPTER 52

Your wife was taking the women out the back gate,” Tormond said. “I thought she was safe with the others.”

“Glynis is probably still hiding in the fields,” Ian said.

Tormond shook his head. “The woman Bessie said that Sorcha disappeared, and the mistress went back into the castle to find her.”

Nay. It can’t be that I’ve lost them both. As Alex’s gaze traveled over the bailey yard, he saw dead and injured men—but no women or children. He tried to think. Where could they be?

“We searched everywhere,” Tormond said.

“Then look again!” Alex ran to open storeroom doors along the wall. He found sacks of grain torn open, and the wine and ale barrels were all gone.

“Glynis! Sorcha!” he called again and again as he searched. He could not let himself consider that he might be looking for their bodies.

Mary, Mother of God, protect them. He made promises to God as he searched for them. Take me—just keep them safe.

Alex’s hands shook as he entered the keep. The weapons on the walls were gone. Tables were overturned. The hall was eerily quiet, except for the crockery crunching under his feet.

“Glynis! Sorcha!” The answering silence closed in on him.

His boots echoed on the stone steps as he climbed the stairs to the bedchambers above. Would he find them dead? His wife’s body, broken and used by the foul men who had destroyed their home? Alex did not think he was strong enough for that, but he kept walking.

When he pushed their bedchamber door, it creaked open slowly, revealing the room inch by inch. In contrast to the rest of the keep, the bedchamber was neat and tidy. It looked as if Glynis had just stepped out.

Except for her dirk lying in the middle of the floor.

Alex sank to his knees and picked it up. There was no blood on it, praise God. But if Glynis and Sorcha were not here, that meant the pirates and Magnus had taken them—and their purpose could only be evil. Alex had to find his wife and daughter before they were harmed, but he did not know where to look.

Alex pounded the floor with his fists. “Where did they take ye?” he shouted. “Where? Where?”

A creak right next to him brought him upright. When he saw his wee daughter standing in the chest holding the top up, Alex swept her up into his arms. He ran his hands over her to assure himself the fairies were not playing tricks on his eyes, and then he held her tightly against him. Sweet Jesus and all the angels, thank ye.

Alex thought he heard a small voice in his ear, saying, “Aye.”

He leaned back. “Was that you, Sorcha?”

She looked at him with her clear eyes and nodded. In the midst of a day of dread and despair, the miracle of hearing his daughter’s sweet voice for the first time overwhelmed him.

“What was that ye said, mo chroí?” Alex asked, as he brushed her hair back with his fingers.

“Eye.” He had thought she was saying aye before, but this time when she said the word she rested the point of her finger next to her eye.

“Did something happen to your eye?” he asked.

“That’s where the bad man took Mother.”

His daughter spoke in perfect Gaelic, but Alex had no idea what she meant.

“Eye snort,” Sorcha said. “That’s where the bad man said he was taking her.”

Eye snort? What in the name of heaven was…

“Eyenort Loch?” he asked. “On South Uist?”

“South Uist,” Sorcha repeated, and nodded.

Alex gave her a big kiss on her forehead. “What a blessing ye are.”

“Mother called him Magnus,” Sorcha said. “She doesn’t like him.”

“That’s verra helpful, little one,” Alex said, keeping his voice calm with an effort. “Do ye remember anything else?”

“Another bad man came, and they argued.”

“Did ye hear the second man’s name?”

Sorcha gave him a solemn nod. “Hugh.”

“Ye did verra, verra well,” Alex said as he started down the stairs with her. “Now I must leave ye with Bessie while I go fetch your mother.”

“Bring her home,” Sorcha said, hugging his neck.

“I will.”

Alex had just had one miracle. And now he needed another.

CHAPTER 53

I’ll let your husband stew for a few days,” Hugh said, as he tied her wrists to the mast. “I need my bait live ’til then, so I’m leaving a man here to guard ye from Magnus. Ye made an enemy with that one, lass, though I can’t say I blame ye for sticking a blade in him. Magnus is an arse.”

“Aithníonn ciaróg ciaróg eile,” Glynis said. A beetle recognizes another beetle.

Hugh hit her so hard across the face that Glynis saw stars and swayed on her feet.

“Mind that tongue of yours if ye want to keep it,” he said.

She had been foolish to goad him—her stepmother always told her that she did not know when to be quiet. Because Hugh had protected her from Magnus, she’d relaxed her guard around him. She’d do well to remember that Hugh was a ruthless man who killed innocents and stole food from the mouths of children.

“If Magnus sets foot on my boat against my orders, kill him,” Hugh said to the man with him. “I could use another boat.”

While Hugh hoisted himself over the side of the galley, Glynis eyed her guard. He was a huge, muscular man with unkempt hair, a scarred face, and only one ear. When the guard turned, the look he gave her sent alarm racing through her veins. Glynis felt helpless to defend herself, tied like a dog to the mast. She tugged at the ropes, but they held fast.

* * *

A heavy fog rolled in over the loch as evening turned to night. Although Alex could not see the shore, the raucous laughter of the pirates’ camp carried clearly across the still water. Hugh had grown lax.

Behind the laugher, Alex heard the clank of cups and the snap of the fires. Hugh’s and Magnus’s men would outnumber them, but they had surprise on their side. Judging from the sounds, Hugh’s men were well into their cups, celebrating with Alex’s whiskey and ale.

Alex, Duncan, Ian, and Connor stood at the front of his galley and would go first. While the others were fine warriors, the four of them had long years of fighting together. And they were the best.

Alex nodded to the others, and the four of them dropped over the side of the boat with a soft splash. He paused to listen, but the pirates carried on as before. As soon as he gave a low dove call, the other men began dropping into the water behind them. They moved silently through the chest-high water, holding their shields and claymores over their heads. As he neared shore, Alex could see the glow of campfires through the thick fog.

He and Connor hid in the brush near the shore, while Duncan and Ian led most of the men behind the encampment. Duncan and Ian’s group would attack from behind so the pirates could not escape inland. Their plan was to trap the pirates between the devil and the deep blue sea.

Before giving the signal, Alex and Connor’s task was to make certain Glynis and any other hostages would not be caught in the middle of the attack. They crawled forward on their bellies until they were close enough to see the faces of the men gathered around the fires. Alex saw Hugh and Connor’s other uncles, Angus and Torquil.

But he did not see Magnus. Or Glynis.

Alex’s blood went cold as he saw one man come out of a tent that had been set up and another go in. Either that was where the whiskey was—or they were taking turns with a woman. When Alex heard a woman cry out, he was off the ground before Connor grabbed his arm to stop him.

No, Connor mouthed and shook his head. He nodded in the direction Duncan had gone, to tell him that Duncan was closer and would deal with it. The blood pounded in Alex’s head. In his mind’s eye, Alex could see Duncan slipping into the back of the tent and then holding his hand over the man’s mouth to keep him quiet while he slit his throat.

The man did not come out of the tent. Aye, the four of them knew each other very well.

It was not Glynis that he had heard cry out. Alex scanned the rest of the camp, but he did not see her or any other prisoners who would be in harm’s way when they attacked. But where was Glynis? Had she also been in the tent, raped by a dozen men?

Or was she dead?

Alex forced himself to focus on the battle ahead. When Connor touched his arm, Alex made another low bird call to alert the men with Ian and Duncan that it was time. An instant later, he and Connor rose to their feet, shouting the MacDonald battle cry, “Fraoch!”

Their men across the fire echoed their ferocious cry. Fraoch! Fraoch! Fraoch!

Alex channeled his pent-up rage and his fear for his wife into his blade, slicing through one man after another. Battle fever burned in his veins like blue fire. He whirled and swung like a madman, until Duncan’s voice penetrated through the battle sounds around him.

“Connor needs help!” Duncan shouted from across the fire.

Alex turned and saw that Hugh and several of his men were closing in on Connor. Alex leaped to his defense, and the two fought back to back, as they often did. Despite everything, Alex began to enjoy himself. He was made for this. No one could match the pair of them as fighters—except perhaps Duncan and Ian.

Hugh was a strong and cagy fighter, but he was always willing to risk the lives of his men before his own. When it was clear that Alex and Connor were winning the fight, Hugh slipped away into the darkness.

“I’ll get Hugh,” Connor shouted. “Angus is running for their boats—catch him before he escapes.”

Through the fog, Alex could just make out the back of a man running hard for the loch. Alex charged after him and brought him down to the ground, crashing on top of him with a thud.

“Where is she?” Alex shouted, as he sat on Angus’s chest with his dirk against the man’s throat. When Angus did not answer quickly enough, Alex pressed the blade deeper, drawing a line of blood. Enunciating each word, he said, “Where is my wife?”

“On the boat,” Angus gasped.

“Which boat?”

“Hugh’s,” Angus said. “He put her there to keep her away from Magnus.”

“If I find ye laid a finger on her, Angus,” Alex said between clenched teeth, “I’ll come back and gut ye.”

Alex had no time to tie Angus so he picked up the nearest rock and hit him on the head.

* * *

Glynis’s wrists were raw from struggling to get the ropes off, but she kept at it. She glanced over her shoulder at her surly keeper, wondering if there was a way she could get his dirk off him. He had an oil lamp beside him, but the fog was so thick that she could see little more than his dim outline, sitting with his legs propped up on the side of the boat.

Somehow, she must get free and warn Alex and the others before they fell into Hugh’s trap. She had not seen a village or even a cottage when they were sailing to the camp. Once she escaped, she would have a long way to travel before she found someone to help her, but she would walk to hell and back if she had to.

Suddenly, there were shouts and the sounds of fighting on the beach. Glynis could not see what was happening through the fog and darkness, but she had not heard a boat arrive. It didn’t surprise her that the pirates had started fighting among themselves. Hugh and Magnus were uneasy allies. Neither trusted the other, and with good reason.

“Arrgh…”

The horrible gagging sound was close. Was that her guard? Glynis leaned forward as far as the rope would let her and squinted into the darkness at the far end of the boat.

The figure of a man slowly emerged from the night fog, carrying his long claymore blade before him. Even before she could see his face, she knew who it was.

She was alone on the boat with Magnus.

* * *

The others were still caught up in the battle, and Alex could not wait for them. He ran through the dense fog, sucking the heavy air deep into his lungs. When he reached the edge of the loch, he saw a wavering light over the water.

God, no! One of the boats was aflame.

Alex splashed into the water. The three pirate boats loomed out of the fog like ghost ships, dimly lit by the glow of fire on the middle ship. Alex could just make out the carved serpent head affixed to its bow. It was Hugh’s ship that was burning.

He clamped his dirk between his teeth and swam the rest of the way to the boat. He found a rope hanging over the side near the burning bow. As he hauled himself up, he strained to listen, but he could hear nothing over the crackle of flames and the sounds from the ongoing battle on shore. When he rolled over the side into the boat, he fell onto something soft.

A body. His mind whirled at the possibilities, and a cold fear settled in his belly. Magnus must have killed the guard. Through the flames, he caught glimpses of the back of a man. Then he heard a deep, angry voice. Magnus’s voice.

“Ye made a fool of me before all my clan,” Magnus said. “That is why they took the chieftainship from me. They lost respect for me because of you.”

“They took the chieftainship from ye because ye were cruel to your own people.”

Ach, that was his wife—arguing with a vicious man with a blade in his hand.

God help him, Magnus was far too close to her. Alex moved forward cautiously, knowing he would have but one chance. If Magnus heard him coming, he could kill Glynis before Alex could reach her.

“All my troubles started with you,” Magnus said, waving his blade in the air like a madman. Flames were licking at his feet, but he was so enraged he didn’t seem to notice. “I should have dragged ye back by your hair and fooked ye til I got ye with child.”

Alex crept forward, his own rage barely under control.

“Everyone was already laughing at me because of what ye did,” Magnus said. “So when I heard ye didn’t leave Shaggy’s with your father, I went looking for ye. I couldn’t let my wife run off with another man.”

“I’m no your wife!” Glynis said.

Alex sensed Magnus was about to attack her. The fire was so hot now that sweat rolled down his face as he crept closer. He must take his chance soon.

“It was while I chasing after ye that they took the chieftainship from me,” Magnus shouted. “They never would have had the ballocks to do it if I’d been there. Because of you, they took everything from me!”

When Magnus swung his arm back, Alex was already running through the flames.

* * *

“Glynis!”

Everything seemed to happen at once: Glynis heard Alex’s voice shouting her name; a dirk flew through the air and landed with a thunk above her head; and Magnus flung his arms out and arched back, howling in pain.

Through the flames, she saw Alex charging across the boat toward them with his hair flying out behind him. All the saints be praised! He looked like one of the legendary heroes of his tales.

Magnus, a famed warrior himself, recovered in time to block Alex’s sword, though his arms shook and his knees bent with the effort. When he turned, she saw the dirk sticking out of his shoulder. Remembering the one above her head, Glynis reached up and worked it out of the wood. Turning the blade toward her, she sawed awkwardly against the ropes holding her wrists. It seemed to take forever, but at last she cut through them.

Glynis backed out of the way as the men fought in the cramped space, knocking over barrels of ale and sending captured pigs squealing. Their swords clanked and scraped the wood of the boat as flames rose higher around them. As the heat seared her face, Glynis feared they would all be consumed in the blaze.

Her hands shook, but she held the dirk in front of her, looking for a chance to stick it into Magnus. But the two men were moving too quickly for her to be sure she wouldn’t strike Alex by mistake. And then Magnus was charging straight at her through the flames, his face contorted with black rage. Just before he reached her, Alex jerked him backward by the back of his shirt.

Pain seared Glynis’s leg. When she looked down, her skirts were on fire. She leaned over and beat at the flames with her hands. But her hair swung down over her shoulders. When it caught on fire, she shrieked.

Alex appeared out of the flames at a full run.

The next Glynis knew they were flying through the air. They hit the water hard, knocking the breath out of her. The last sound she heard as they plunged beneath the surface was the sizzle of flames meeting the water.

She swallowed water and came up coughing. Water streamed down her face, and the charred smell of burned hair filled her nose as Alex carried her to shore. She rested her cheek against his chest and listened to the reassuring sound of his thundering heart.

“Mo chroí, did he hurt ye?” he asked. “Are ye all right?”

“I am now.”

Alex came to a halt. “I love ye so much. I couldn’t bear it if I lost ye.”

She let the words wash over her. Alex loved her.

“You’ll never lose me,” she said. “Never.”

CHAPTER 54

No more whiskey!” Glynis pushed away the cup Alex held to her mouth.

Duncan, Ian, and Connor were all hovering over her as well, like a bunch of mother hens.

“A burn is the worst kind of wound,” Alex said. “No need to be brave now.”

She’d let the men ply her with whiskey—the man’s cure for everything—last night, but she wanted to arrive home sober, for heaven’s sake.

“My leg barely pains me at all now,” Glynis said, though it hurt like the devil. “I won’t have our daughter see me stumbling off the boat.”

“Ye won’t stumble because ye won’t be walking,” Alex said, in a tone that told her there would be no arguing the point.

“Ye have quite a gathering of folks to welcome ye home,” Ian said.

Glynis ignored her husband’s protests and stood. It looked as if everyone from the castle and the nearby cottages had come down to the beach to greet them. She smiled up at Alex and squeezed his hand.

When Alex carried her off the boat, the people waiting on the shore cheered—which very nearly made her weep. Alex set her on her feet as Sorcha ran up. Glynis dropped to one knee on the sand and held out her arms to her daughter.

“Mother,” Sorcha said, as she threw her arms around Glynis’s neck. “I knew da would bring ye home.”

As she held Sorcha tightly against her, Glynis did shed a tear now. She would always remember this moment when she heard her daughter’s voice for the first time, calling her Mother.

“Your mother has a battle wound that proves how brave she is,” Alex said, as he helped Glynis to her feet again. He rested his hand on Sorcha’s head. “Wait til ye see it—it’s a beauty.”

Glynis laughed because she knew he meant it.

“We’ll bid ye farewell now and join our men on the other ship,” Connor said.

“Ye can’t stay?” Glynis asked, looking from Connor to Ian and Duncan.

“We must deliver Angus and Torquil to the new Clanranald chieftain for their punishment,” Connor said. “The Clanranalds, at least, will have justice.”

“I know ye feel badly about Hugh escaping again.” Alex clasped Connor’s shoulder. “But I appreciate what ye did.”

When Alex had carried her to the shore from the burning ship, they had met Connor running hell-bent toward the loch. They learned later that Connor had been fighting one-on-one with Hugh, when Hugh told him that Glynis was on the flaming ship.

“Ach, ye didn’t need my help,” Connor said.

“But ye thought I did,” Alex said. “Ye left Hugh to help me save my wife.”

“You’d do the same for me.” Connor paused and then gave him a crooked smile. “If I had a wife.”

“It’s time ye did,” Alex said. “Shall I make ye a list?”

The other men laughed so hard that Glynis suspected she was missing part of the joke.

“No need for that yet,” Ian said, and elbowed Duncan hard in the ribs. “We have it all planned out, and Duncan’s next.”

“Don’t believe it,” Duncan said in Glynis’s ear when he leaned down to kiss her cheek good-bye.

“All the same,” she whispered back, “I’d advise ye not to wager that galley ye stole from Shaggy.”

* * *

Alex was relieved to have his wife home. He hoped she would stay.

Although Glynis had told him she would never leave him, she’d been a breath away from being burned alive the moment before. As a warrior, he’d often heard men make pledges when they looked death in the eye that were soon forgotten once the danger was passed.

He wanted to hear Glynis say it again.

On the ship, they’d had no opportunity to speak alone. As soon as Connor and the others set sail, Alex turned, intending to lift Glynis in his arms and carry her to the castle. But he froze in place when he saw Ùna running straight toward him down the beach. Ach, Glynis was sure to think the worst. But when Ùna reached them, she took Glynis’s hands.

Alex’s heart started to beat once more. Apparently, the two had met and talked in his absence.

“I’m so glad you’re safe,” Ùna said to Glynis.

“Do ye see Peiter there?” Glynis said, nodding in the direction of the young fisherman, who, as usual, was looking at Ùna with calf eyes.

“Aye,” Ùna said, her cheeks going pink.

“I know you’re not ready. But when ye are, Peiter is a good man ye can trust.” Glynis put her arm through Alex’s and leaned into him. “Like my husband.”

Alex’s chest swelled, even as he was amused that his wife was setting the household to rights before they had even left the beach.

“She needs her rest,” Alex said, waving off the other well-wishers.

“I’m well,” Glynis said, as carried her to the castle.

“I want ye alone,” Alex said, giving her a wink. “I have something to give ye.”

“Is this the sort of gift that usually involves taking our clothes off?” she asked, waggling her eyebrows at him.

He laughed. “I do believe ye are feeling better, wife.”

Once he had her upstairs in their chamber, he set her on the bed and tucked pillows behind her back and another under her injured leg.

“I spoke with your father when we stopped on Barra looking for Hugh and the others,” Alex said, as he sat on the edge of the bed to have a look at her leg. The burn was healing well, praise God. “I believe I’ve convinced him to make his peace with Colin Campbell and submit to the Crown.”

“Oh, that is a good present,” Glynis said, leaning forward to touch her fingers to his cheek.

“That’s not your present,” he said, as he reached into his leather pouch. “We wed so quickly that I didn’t have time to find a ring, so I asked Ilysa to help me. She found someone to make what I wanted, and Duncan brought it with him.”

Alex took her hand and slipped the silver ring on her finger.

“Oh, Alex, it’s lovely!” she said. “Are those two herons carved on it?”

“Aye,” he said. “Herons mate for life, and that’s what I want.”

She looked up at him with wet eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t trust ye. I’ll never make that mistake again.”

“Don’t ever leave me,” he said, gathering her in his arms, “because I love ye go síoraí.” Forever. It was still hard for him to say it, though it had been true for a long time.

When he released her, she held out her hand and smiled as she examined the ring again.

“I suspect Ilysa and Teàrlag put all sorts of magical charms on it,” he said.

“Ye don’t need magic charms to keep me.” Glynis took his hands and looked straight at him with her dead-serious gray eyes. “Ye know how stubborn I am. Ye couldn’t be rid of me now if ye tried.”

Alex felt himself relax. Glynis was the most determined woman he’d ever known, and she’d decided to keep him.

Her expression softened, and she said, “We’ll make a home for our children that’s filled with love, mo shíorghrá.” My eternal love.

Alex took his wife’s face in his hands and kissed her long and slow.

EPILOGUE

Saint Brigid’s Day (Là Fhèill Brìghde)

February 1, 1516

I missed ye,” Alex said, kissing his wife’s cheek again as she walked up with him from the beach. He had just returned from a meeting with Connor and the others at Dunscaith.

“Ye shouldn’t have sailed across the Minch to Skye this time of year,” she scolded.

“I have Saint Michael to protect me,” he said, placing his hand on his chest where the medallion rested. “Besides, it’s been a mild winter.”

He wrapped his plaid more tightly around Glynis’s shoulders. Judging from the sharp wind coming off the water, they were in for a change in weather.

“There’s a wee bit of commotion in the hall,” Glynis warned him. “So tell me the news now, before we go in.”

“Angus and Torquil are dead,” Alex said. “The Clanranald chieftain had Angus tied in a sack and dropped at sea, straight off, since he was the one who offended their clanswoman.”

“What about Torquil?”

“He was kept prisoner for a time, but then he bragged about how fast he could run. When they let him run on the beach to prove it, he tried to flee. He was shot in the leg with an arrow.”

“He died from that?”

“Well…,” Alex said, “they decided the wound was incurable and put him to death.”

“Hmmph. And how is Connor?”

“Hugh has vowed to take bloody vengeance for his brothers’ deaths,” Alex said. “And if that is no enough, there’s a rumor floating about that the MacLeods and the Macleans have secretly advised the Crown that they are willing to switch sides in the rebellion—for a price.”

“For a price?”

“Aye, and the price is usually someone else’s lands,” Alex said. “And then, Connor’s heard that his sister Moira is being treated poorly by her husband.”

“Ach, that’s terrible,” Glynis said. “What will he do?”

“He’s sent Duncan to Ireland to find out if it’s true,” Alex said, giving her a sideways glance.

“That’s a lot to ask of Duncan,” Glynis said.

“I haven’t told ye the most startling news,” Alex said, still not believing it himself. “My parents are living together—and they’re acting like a pair of lovebirds.”

Glynis laughed and squeezed his arm as they climbed the steps to the keep.

“They still think of no one but themselves, but they’re more pleasant to be around.”

“I’m glad ye made it home in time to celebrate Saint Brigid’s Day,” Glynis said, as he opened the door for her.

Alex had no idea it was Saint Brigid’s Day.

When they entered the hall, he saw Sorcha with the group of women and children at the long table. They had made the traditional figurine of the saint from sheaves of grain and were in the midst of decorating it with ribbons and shells.

“Da!” Sorcha ran to greet him and tugged at his hand. “Come see Saint Bridget.”

Alex dutifully admired the doll in all her finery.

“Come, children,” his wife said, “and I’ll tell ye about Saint Bridget’s Day.”

As the children gathered around her by the glowing hearth, Glynis rested her hand on her swollen belly and smiled at him. They were both so happy about this baby.

“Saint Bridget’s Day comes at a time when the sheep get their milk in preparation for the birthing of new lambs,” she told the children. “Although winter is not over, we see the first glimmer of spring. We celebrate new life, the reawakening of the land, and our hope for good fishing after the stormy season. No spinning or other work involving a wheel is permitted because the wheel of time is turning between the seasons.”

Alex chuckled to himself. Like most Highland feast days, this was a pagan celebration wrapped in the guise of a Christian saint.

“The fishermen gathered seaweed for fertilizing, while we women spent the day cleaning,” Glynis continued. “And then we placed live limpets outside the four corners of our clean houses to foster good fishing.”

Glynis met his eyes over the children’s heads and gave him another warm smile. “Saint Bridget’s Day is the day we celebrate home, hearth, and family.”

This was the kind of home that Alex had dreamed of when he was a child. He sighed with contentment as he glanced at the faces of the folk who had gathered in the old keep that Glynis had made into a home. He nodded at Tormond, who—if he wasn’t mistaken—had his hand on Bessie’s leg beneath the table.

Glynis sent Sorcha to the door to call out, “Brigid, come in.”

“Welcome, Brigid,” the other women chanted. “Your bed is ready.”

Glynis took the doll from the table, and everyone gathered around as she laid it in a bed of rushes by the hearth.

“This is called Brigid’s wand,” she explained, as she tucked a smooth, straight birch stick in with the doll. “The saint uses the wand to bring earth back to life.”

“I think I know what the stick is supposed to represent,” Alex whispered in her ear.

She gave him a mock-severe look and then handed Ùna a bowl of water and a bowl of salt. “Set them outside for the saint to bless. We’ll use them all year in medicines, for Saint Brigid’s Day is also a time of healing.”

Alex knew she chose Ùna for the task because the lass had a special need for healing.

“These will bring healing and protection to each of us in the months ahead,” Glynis said, as she cut a strip of cloth for every member of the household to leave outside the door for Saint Brigid to bless.

Alex took his to please her, though Glynis had already healed his wounds.

The last ritual of the night, after the feast, was for the head of the household to smother the fire and rake the ashes smooth. In the morning, they would look for signs of the saint’s visit in the ashes. Alex made quick work of the task, for it was the last thing between him and taking his wife upstairs to bed.

Later that night as he lay with her in his arms, Alex thought of his blessings and the many changes wrought in his life over the past months. As Teàrlag predicted, Glynis had fulfilled his deepest desires.

“Ye gave me everything I longed for but didn’t believe I deserved,” he told her. “And ye made me a far better man than I thought I could be.”

“I look forward to every day with ye,” she said, as she rested her palm over his heart. “Ye make me so happy.”

He did make her happy. But then, Glynis had surprised him from the start.

HISTORICAL NOTE

One of the joys of doing research for a historical novel is discovering real-life characters and events that no one would believe if you made them up. Happily, sixteenth-century Scotland is a treasure trove of such finds, and I included a number of them in this book. After five hundred years, many details are unavailable or disputed, and the line between historical fact and legend blurs. This, of course, gives a fiction writer room for imagination.

Shaggy Maclean and Catherine Campbell did marry. The incident with the tidal rock, including Shaggy’s subsequent visit to the Campbells, is a well-known tale, though these events occurred a few years later than I make them. In 1523, Shaggy was murdered in Edinburgh, probably dirked in bed. It was generally believed that John Campbell, Thane of Cawdor, was responsible.

John Campbell’s wife, Muriel, is also a real historical figure. According to the stories, Muriel was stolen by the Campbells from outside Cawdor Castle when she was very young, was raised in the Campbell chieftain’s household, was married to John at twelve, and had a happy marriage. I was lucky enough to visit Cawdor Castle and see a carved mantel commemorating their marriage.

James IV’s death in the Battle of Flodden led to a long minority rule by his son, which fostered factional fights for power. Under the dead king’s will, Margaret Tudor, who was his widow and also Henry VIII’s sister, initially served as regent. The Douglas chieftain, who makes an appearance in The Guardian and is mentioned in this book, became her lover in a bid to control the Crown. Douglas overplayed his hand, however, when he married her. As a result, Margaret Tudor lost the regency. While Margaret took refuge in England, Douglas helped himself to her funds and took up with another woman. His marriage never recovered, but for three years, he held his teenage stepson, James V, as a virtual prisoner and ruled on his behalf.

Antoine D’Arcy, a French nobleman known as the White Knight, was a real person who came to Scotland to assist the next regent, the Duke of Albany. Apparently, D’Arcy had visited Scotland earlier to participate in jousting tournaments. As with the other historical figures, I filled in his personality to suit my story.

My character Connor’s half uncles are loosely based on the real sons of Hugh, the first MacDonald of Sleat chieftain. Because Hugh named two of his sons Donald and two Angus, I changed most of their names to reduce confusion. My version of how two of these men were captured is wholly fictional, but the manner of their deaths is consistent with stories told about them.

I based Magnus Clanranald on a Clanranald chieftain named Dougal. The real Clanranald chieftain was actually assassinated by members of his own clan, and his sons were excluded from the succession to the chieftainship.

I adjusted travel times as well as the dates of some events to suit my story. Except for Dunfaileag, all of the castles mentioned in this book existed, though some are in ruins now. There is a Loch Eynort on South Uist, but I have no idea if it has secret bays and inlets. I hope I can visit it one day and find out.

Look for the third book in

this sizzling series featuring

fearless Highlanders! *

Please turn this page

for a preview of The Warrior

Available in November 2012

CHAPTER 1

ISLE OF SKYE, SCOTLAND

1508

Duncan MacDonald could defeat any warrior in the castle—and yet, he was powerless against his chieftain’s seventeen-year-old daughter.

“As soon as my father leaves the hall,” Moira whispered, leaning close enough to make him light-headed, “I’ll meet ye outside by the ash tree.”

Duncan should refuse her, but he may as well try to stop his heart from beating.

“I’ve told ye not to speak to me here,” he said, glancing about the long room filled with their clansmen and the chieftain’s guests from Ireland. “Someone might notice.”

When Moira turned to look straight at him with her midnight-blue eyes, Duncan felt as if a fist slammed into his chest. That had happened the first time she looked at him—really looked at him—and every time since.

“Why would anyone take notice if I speak with my brother Connor’s best friend?” she asked.

Perhaps because she had ignored him the first seventeen years of her life? It was still a mystery to him how that had changed.

“Go now—Ragnall is watching us,” he said when he felt her older brother’s eyes on him. Unlike Moira and Connor, Ragnall took after his father—he was short-tempered, fair-haired, and built like a bull. He was also the only warrior in the clan Duncan was not certain he could defeat at arms.

“I won’t go until ye say you’ll meet me later.” Moira folded her arms, but amusement quirked up the corners of her full lips, reminding Duncan that this was a game to her.

But if her father learned that Duncan was sneaking off with his only daughter, he’d murder him on the spot. Duncan turned and left the hall without bothering to answer—Moira knew he’d be there.

As he waited for her in the dark, he listened to the soft lap of the sea on the shore. There was no mist on the Misty Isle of Skye tonight, and Dunscaith Castle was beautiful, ablaze with torchlight against the clear night sky. He had grown up in the castle and seen this sight a thousand times—but Duncan took nothing for granted.

His mother had served as nursemaid to the chieftain’s children, and he and Connor had been best friends since the cradle. From the time they could lift wooden swords, the two of them and Connor’s cousins, Alex and Ian, were trained in the art of war. When they weren’t practicing with their weapons, they were off looking for adventure—or trouble—and they usually found it.

Moira had always been apart, a coddled princess dressed in finery. Duncan had little to do with the lovely, wee creature whose laughter often filled the castle.

Duncan heard the rustle of silk skirts and saw Moira running toward him. Even in the dark and covered head to toe in a cloak, he could pick her out of a thousand women. Though she couldn’t possibly see what was in her path, Moira ran headlong, expecting no impediment. No stone tripped her, for even the fairies favored this lass.

When Moira threw her arms around his neck, Duncan closed his eyes and lost himself in her womanly softness. He breathed in the scent of her hair, and it was like lying in a field of wildflowers.

“It’s been two whole days,” she said. “I missed ye so much.”

Duncan was amazed at how unguarded Moira was. The lass said whatever came into her head, with no caution, no fear of rejection. But then, who would refuse her?

The chieftain had sent Duncan to attend university in the Lowlands with Connor and Connor’s cousins, and he’d learned about Helen of Troy there. Moira had a face like that—the kind that could start a clan war. And worse for his jealous heart, she had lush curves and an innate sensuality that made every man want her.

But for Duncan, Moira was the bright spark in his world.

Moira pulled him down into a deep kiss that sent him reeling. Before he knew it, his hands were roaming over the feminine dips and swells of her body, and she was moaning into his mouth. They were in danger of dropping to the grass at their feet, where anyone could happen upon them, so he broke the kiss. One of them had to keep their head—and it wouldn’t be Moira.

“Not here,” he said, though he knew damned well what they would do if they went to the cave. Anticipation caused every fiber of his being to throb with need.

For the first weeks, they had found ways to please each other without committing the last, irrevocable sin—the one that could cost Duncan his life if his chieftain knew of it. He felt guilty for taking what rightfully belonged to Moira’s future husband. But it was a miracle that he’d held out against her as long as he had.

At least he was confident that Moira wouldn’t suffer for it. She was a clever lass—she wouldn’t be the first to spill a vial of sheep’s blood on her wedding sheet. And Moira was not one to be troubled by guilt.

Once they were inside the cave, they spread the blanket they kept there and sat close together.

“The Irish chieftain’s son is rather amusing,” Moira said, poking his side with her finger.

Moira’s father had not taken another wife after Connor and Moira’s mother died. So when they had guests, Moira sat on one side of her father, charming them, while her older brother Ragnall sat on his other side, frightening them.

“The man was looking down the front of your gown all through supper.” And Duncan thought Moira let him. “I wanted to crush his head between my hands.”

All his life, he’d minded his temper, both because he was bigger than other lads and because his position was precarious. He hated the way Moira made him lose control.

“That’s sweet.” She laughed and kissed his cheek. “I was trying to make ye jealous.”

“Why would ye do that?”

“To make certain ye would meet me because we need to talk.” Her voice was serious now. “Duncan, I want us to marry.”

Duncan closed his eyes and, for one brief moment, let himself pretend it was possible. He imagined what it would be like to be the man so blessed as to sleep with this lass in his arms each night and to wake up each morning to her sunny smile.

“It will never happen,” he said.

“Of course it will,” she said.

Moira was accustomed to having her way. Her father, who had no other weakness, had spoiled her, but he would make his own choice on such an important matter.

“Your father will never permit his only daughter to wed the nursemaid’s bastard son,” he said. “He’ll use your marriage to make an alliance for the clan.”

Duncan pulled out his flask of whiskey and took a long drink. With Moira talking such nonsense, he needed it.

“My father always lets me have what I want in the end. And what I want,” she said, her breath warm in his ear as she ran her hand up his thigh, “is you, Duncan Ruadh MacDonald.”

With all his blood rushing to his cock, he couldn’t think. He pulled her into his arms, and they fell across the blankets, their legs tangled.

“I’m desperate for ye,” she said between frantic kisses.

He still found it hard to believe Moira wanted him—but when she put her hand on his cock, he did believe. For however long she wanted him, he was hers.

* * *

Duncan ran his fingers through Moira’s hair as she lay with her head on his chest. He fixed every moment of their time together in his memory to retrieve later.

“I love ye so much,” she said.

An unfamiliar sensation of pure joy bubbled up inside Duncan.

“Tell me ye love me,” she said.

“Ye know I do,” he said, though it made no difference as to what would happen. “I’ll never stop.”

His feelings didn’t come and go like Moira’s. One week, she loved her brown horse, the next week the spotted one, and the week after that she didn’t like to ride at all. She had always been like that. They were opposites in so many ways.

Duncan forced himself to sit up so he could see the sky outside the cave.

“Ach, it’s near dawn,” he said and cursed himself. “I must get ye back in a hurry.”

“I will convince my father,” she said as they dressed. “He’s no fool. He can see that you’re a warrior who will one day be known throughout the Western Isles.”

“If ye tell your father about us,” he said, cupping her face in his hands, “that will be the end of this.”

Moira could not be as naïve about it as she pretended.

“He would let us wed if I carried your child,” she said in a small voice.

Duncan’s heart stopped in his chest. “Tell me ye are taking the potion to avoid conceiving?”

“Aye,” she said, sounding annoyed. “And I’ve had my courses.”

He brushed his thumb over her cheek. It was strange, but he would love to have a child with her—a wee lass with Moira’s laughing eyes. He had no business having thoughts like that. It would be years before he could support a wife and child, and he’d never be able to provide for a woman accustomed to fine clothes and servants.

The scare she gave him made him resolve, once again, to end it. Moira could hide the loss of her virginity, but a child was another matter.

“If my father won’t agree, we can run away,” she said.

“He’d send half a dozen war galleys after us,” Duncan said, as he fastened her cloak for her. “Even if we escaped—which we wouldn’t—ye would never be happy estranged from our clan and living in a humble cottage. I love ye too much to do that to ye.”

“Don’t doubt me,” Moira said, gripping the front of his shirt. “I’d live anywhere with ye.”

She believed it only because she’d never lived with hardship. And Duncan knew that even if he could give her a castle, he could never keep her. Moira was like a colorful butterfly, landing on his hand for a breathless moment.

The sky was growing light when they reached the kitchen entrance behind the keep.

“I love ye,” Moira said. “And I promise ye, one way or another, I will marry ye.”

Duncan was a lucky man to have her love, even for a little while. He pulled her into one last mindless kiss and wondered how he would last until the next time.

He lived on the precipice of disaster, never knowing which would befall him first—getting caught or having her end it. And yet, he had never felt happier in his life. He had to stop himself from whistling as he crossed the castle yard to his mother’s cottage.

Damn, there was candlelight in the window. Duncan was a grown man of nearly twenty and didn’t have to answer to his mother. Still, he wished she were not awake to see him come in with the rising sun. She would ask questions, and he didn’t like to lie to her.

Duncan opened the door—and his stomach dropped like a stone to his feet.

His chieftain and Ragnall sat on either side of his mother’s table with their long, claymore swords resting, unsheathed, across their thighs. Rage rolled off them. With their golden hair and fierce golden eyes, they looked like a pair of lions.

Duncan hoped they would not kill him in front of his mother and sister. Though he didn’t take his eyes off the two warriors dwarfing the tiny cottage, he was aware of his mother hunched on the floor in the corner, weeping. His eleven-year-old sister stood with her hand on their mother’s shoulder.

“The old seer foretold that ye would save my son Connor’s life one day.” The chieftain’s voice held enough menace to fell birds from the sky. “That is the only reason I did not kill ye the moment ye walked through that door.”

Duncan suspected he would be flogged within an inch of his life instead. But a beating, however bad, meant nothing. He was strong; he would survive it. What weighed down his shoulders was the realization that he would never again hold Moira in his arms.

His chieftain was speaking again, but Duncan found it hard to listen with the well of grief rising in his chest.

“I suspect Connor and my nephews knew ye were violating my daughter!”

When the chieftain started to rise from his chair, Ragnall put his hand on his father’s arm.

“We are taking Knock Castle from the MacKinnons today, so fetch your sword and shield,” Ragnall said. “As soon as the battle is over, you, Alex, and Ian will sail with Connor for France. Ye can hone your skills there, fighting the English.”

“By the time ye return,” the chieftain said, his eyes narrow slits of hate, “Moira will be far from Skye, living with her husband and children.”

Duncan had known from the start that he would lose Moira. And yet, he felt the loss as keenly as if he’d been the expectant bridegroom whose bride is torn from his arms on his wedding night.

The bright spark was gone from his life forever.

The Dish

Where authors give you the inside scoop! From the desk of Jill Shalvis

Dear Reader,

It’s been a fun, exciting year for my Lucky Harbor series. Thanks to you, the readers, I hit the New York Times bestseller list with The Sweetest Thing. Wow. Talk about making my day! You are all awesome, and I’m still grinning from ear to ear and making everyone call me “N-Y-T.” But I digress…

In light of how much you, the readers, have enjoyed this series, my publisher is putting Simply Irresistible and The Sweetest Thing together as a 2-in-1 volume at a special low price. CHRISTMAS IN LUCKY HARBOR will be in stores in November—just in time to bring new readers up to speed for book three, Head Over Heels, in December.

When I first started this series, I wanted it to be about three sisters who run a beach resort together. I figured I’d use my three daughters as inspiration. Only problem, my little darlings are teenagers, and they bicker like fiends. Some inspiration. But then it occurred to me: Their relationships are real, and that’s what I like to write. Real people. So I changed things up, and the series became about three ESTRANGED sisters, stuck together running a dilapidated inn falling down on its axis. Now that I could pull off for sure. Add in three sexy alpha heroes to go with, and voilà… I was on my way.

So make sure to look for CHRISTMAS IN LUCKY HARBOR, the reprint of books one and two, available both in print and as an ebook wherever books are sold. And right on its heels, book three, Head Over Heels. (Heels? Get it?)

Happy reading and holiday hugs!

www.jillshalvis.com From the desk of Margaret Mallory

Dear Reader,

Bad boys! What woman doesn’t love a rogue—at least in fiction?

I suspect that’s the reason I’ve had readers asking me about Alex MacDonald since he made his appearance as a secondary character in The Guardian, Book 1 of the Return of the Highlanders series.

Alex is such an unruly charmer that I was forced to ban him from several chapters of The Guardian for misbehavior. Naturally, the scoundrel attempted to steal every scene I put him in. I will admit that I asked Alex to flirt with the heroine to make his cousin jealous, but did he have to enjoy himself quite so thoroughly? Of course, if there had been any real chance of stealing his cousin’s true love, Alex would not have done it. A good heart is hidden beneath that brawny chest. All the same, I told the scene-stealer he must wait his turn. When he laughed and refused to cooperate, I threw him out.

Now, at last, this too-handsome, green-eyed warrior has his own book, THE SINNER. I hope readers will agree that a man who has had far too many women fall at his feet must suffer on the road to love.

The first thing I decided to do was give Alex a heroine who was as loath to marry as he was. In fact, Alex would have to travel the length and breadth of Scotland to find a lass as opposed to marriage in general, or to him in particular, as Glynis MacNeil. Glynis’s experience with one handsome, philandering Highland warrior was enough to last her a lifetime, and she’s prepared to go to any lengths to thwart her chieftain father’s attempts to wed her to another.

Alex has sworn—repeatedly and to anyone who would listen—that he will never take a wife. So the second thing I decided to do was surprise Alex partway through the book with an utterly compelling reason to wed. (No, I’m not telling here.) I hope readers appreciate the irony of this bad boy’s long, uphill battle to persuade Glynis to marry him.

Helping these two untrusting souls find love proved an even bigger challenge than getting them wed. Fortunately, the attraction between Alex and Glynis was so hot my fingers burned on the keys. The last thing I needed to do, then, was force them to trust each other through a series of dangerous adventures that threatened all they held dear. That part was easy, dear readers—such dangers abound in the Highlands in the year 1515.

I hope you enjoy the love story of Alex and Glynis in THE SINNER.

www.margaretmallory.com From the desk of Cara Elliott

Dear Reader,

Starting a new series is a little like going out on a first date. I mean, doesn’t every girl get a little nervous about meeting a guy who is a complete stranger? Well, I have a confession to make: Authors get the heebies-jeebies too. Hey, it’s not easy to waltz up to a hunky hero and simply bat your eyelashes and introduce yourself!

Okay, okay, I know what you’re thinking. How hard can it be? After all, unlike in real life, all I have to do is snap my fingers (or tap them along my keyboard) and presto, as if by magic, he’ll turn into a knight in shining armor, or a dashingly debonair prince, or… whatever my fantasies desire!

Strange as it may sound, it doesn’t always flow quite so smoothly. Some men have minds of their own. You know… the strong, silent, self-reliant type who would rather eat nails than admit to any vulnerability. Take Connor Linsley, the sinfully sexy rogue who plays the leading role in TOO WICKED TO WED, the first book in my new Lords of Midnight trilogy. Talk about an infuriating man! He snaps, he snarls, he broods. If he didn’t have such an intriguing spark in his quicksilver eyes, I might have been tempted to give up on him.

But no, patient person that I am, I persevered, knowing that beneath his show of steel was a softer, more sensitive core. I just had to draw it out. We had to have a number of heart-to-heart talks, but finally he let down his silky dark hair—er, in a manner of speaking—and allowed me to share some of his secrets. (And trust me, Connor has some very intriguing secrets!)

I’ll have you know that I am also generous, as well as patient, for instead of keeping my new best friend all to myself, I’ve decided to share this Paragon of Perfection. I hope you enjoy getting to know him! (Pssst, he has two very devil-may-care friends. But that’s another story. Or maybe two!)

Please visit my website at www.caraelliott.com to read sample chapters and learn more about this Lord of Midnight.

From the desk of Jami Alden

Dear Reader,

I first met Krista Slater in my first romantic suspense for Grand Central, Beg for Mercy. All I knew about her then was that she was tough, no nonsense, dedicated to her work and committed to right, even if it meant admitting she’d made an enormous mistake in sending Sean Flynn to death row. But it was only after I’d spent about a month (and a hundred pages) with her in my latest book, HIDE FROM EVIL, that I learned she’s also an automobile expert who can hotwire a car in less than sixty seconds.

And I knew Sean Flynn was loyal and honorable, with a protective streak a mile wide. I also knew that when he was forced into close quarters with Krista, he’d fall and fall hard, despite the fact she’d nearly ruined his life when she prosecuted him for murder. However, I didn’t know he listened to Alice in Chains until he popped in his earbuds and clicked on his iPod.

After I finish every book, I’m amazed at the fact that I’ve written three hundred plus pages about people who exist only in my head. For about six months, I spend nearly every waking hour with them. Even when I’m not actually writing, they’re always around, circling the edges of my consciousness while I think up a sexy, scary story for them to inhabit.

When I first started writing, I read books that said I shouldn’t start writing until I knew absolutely everything about my hero and heroine. And I mean EVERYTHING—stuff like the name of their best friends from kindergarten and their least favorite food. So I would try to fill out these elaborate questionnaires, wracking my brain to come up a list of my heroine’s quirks.

I finally came to accept the fact that it takes me a while to get to know my characters. We need to spend some time together before I get a sense of what makes them tick. It’s like getting to know a new friend: You start with the small talk. Then you hang out, have conversations that go beyond the surface. You start to notice the little details that make them unique, and they reveal things from their pasts that have molded them into the people you’re coming to know.

That’s when things get interesting.

It was definitely interesting getting to know Sean and Krista in HIDE FROM EVIL. Especially finding out why, despite their rocky past, they were absolutely meant for each other. I hope you have as much fun with them as I did.

Enjoy!

www.jamialden.com

Praise for the novels ofMargaret Mallory

The Guardian

“4 ½ stars! Top Pick! Mallory imbues history with a life of its own, creating a deeply moving story. Her characters are vibrantly alive and full of emotional depth, each with their own realistic flaws. Her sensuous and highly passionate tale grabs the reader and doesn’t let go.”

—RT Book Reviews

“Masterfully written…Mallory has created a series that every romance reader must read. The Guardian is truly a sizzling romance with high-impact adventure that captures the Scotland readers long for. The characters created by Mallory have found places in my heart and I am impatiently awaiting the next of this spectacular series!”

—FreshFiction.com

“What is more tantalizing than a quartet of sexy men in plaids? The Guardian is very much a romance with plenty of adventure wrapped around it. Don’t miss this terrific opening shot in a promising new series.”

—RomRevToday.com

“A must-read for all historical and highlander fans…Ms. Mallory weaves a gripping story of heartbreak, intrigue, and trust…This one is a keeper.”

—TheRomanceReadersConnection.com

“10 Stars! Top 20 Reviewed! Exquisite…An extraordinary medieval romance…Mallory has brilliantly set the stage for the next of three books…passionate characters and the women who love them [leap] off the pages…a true keeper to devour happily, knowing it remains on your shelf or in your e-reader to be re-read and savored over and over again!”

—TheSeasonforRomance.com

“A joyfully recommended read!…Vividly fierce, phenomenal…Breathtaking is not a good enough description…I’ve read a couple of Highlander books but none of them ever spoke to me the way The Guardian does!”

—JoyfullyReviewed.com

“I have always enjoyed [Mallory’s] rich, lush historicals… The romance community now has a new star in Scottish tales…Characters that tug at the deepest corners of your heart, a love story that seeps into the very depth of your core, and a multiple sigh-worthy ending that sings to your spirit are all combined in the magic of this wonderful book. Bravo, Margaret Mallory!”

—TheRomanceDish.com

“An amazing introduction to what is fated to become a dangerously addictive series. With characters capable of breaching the most impenetrable of readers’ defenses, riveting story lines (and even more intriguing subplots), quick, witty dialogue, as well as wild sexual tension—the only thing readers will crave, is more.”

—RomanceJunkiesReviews.com

Knight of Passion

“Top Pick! As in the previous book in her All the King’s Men series, Mallory brings history to life, creating dramatic and gut-wrenching stories. Her characters are incredibly alive and readers will feel and believe their sensual and passionate adventures. Mallory raises the genre to new levels.”

—RT Book Reviews

“An amazing story…a series that readers won’t want to miss…Filled with hot romance as well as adventure with a fascinating historical background.”

—RomRevToday.com

Knight of Pleasure

“4 Stars! A riveting story…Such depth and sensuality are a rare treat.”

—RT Book Reviews

“Fascinating…An excellent historical romance. Ms. Mallory gives us amazingly vivid details of the characters, romance, and intrigue of England. You’re not just reading a novel, you are stepping into the story and feeling all the emotions of each character…Knight of Pleasure is amazing and I highly recommend it.”

—TheRomanceReadersConnection.com

“An absolute delight…captivating.”

—FreshFiction.com

Knight of Desire

“Spellbinding! Few writers share Margaret Mallory’s talent for bringing history to vivid, pulsing life.”

—Virginia Henley, New York Times bestselling

author of The Decadent Duke

“An impressive debut…Margaret Mallory is a star in the making.”

—Mary Balogh, New York Times bestselling

author of At Last Comes Love

“5 Stars! Amazing…The fifteenth century came alive…Knight of Desire is the first in the All the King’s Men series and what a way to start it off.”

—CoffeeTimeRomance.com

“A fast-paced tale of romance and intrigue that will sweep you along and have you rooting for William and his fair Catherine to fight their way to love at last.”

—Candace Camp, New York Times bestselling

author of The Courtship Dance

“4 Stars! Mallory’s debut is impressive. She breathes life into major historical characters…in a dramatic romance.”

—RT Book Reviews

ALSO BY MARGARET MALLORY

The Return of the Highlanders

The Guardian

All the King’s Men

Knight of Desire

Knight of Pleasure

Knight of Passion

Contents

Title Page

Dedication

Acknowledgments

Epigraph

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Epilogue

Historical Note

A Preview of The Warrior

The Dish

Praise for the novels of Margaret Mallory

Also By Margaret Mallory

Copyright

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright © 2011 by Peggy L. Brown

Excerpt from The Warrior copyright © 2011 by Peggy L. Brown

All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

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First eBook Edition: November 2011

ISBN: 978-1-455-50592-0