The MacNeil chief tilted his head back to take a long drink from his cup, then slammed it on the table, sputtering and choking.
Alex followed the direction of his gaze—and almost choked on his own ale when he saw the woman. Ach, the poor lass had suffered the worst case of pox Alex had ever seen. The afflicted woman crossed the room at a brisk pace, her gaze fixed on the floor. When she took the place at the end of the table next to Alex, he had to move over to make room for her. She was quite stout, though not in a pleasing sort of way.
Alex tried not to stare at the pockmarks when he turned to greet her. But he couldn’t help it. God’s bones, these weren’t old scars—the pox were still oozing! Blood never troubled him at all, of course, but he was a wee bit squeamish about seeping sores.
“They call me Alexander Bàn.” Alexander the Fair-Haired. He put on a bright smile and waited. When she kept her gaze on the table and didn’t respond, he asked, “And you are?”
“Glynis.”
Since she refused to look at him, Alex could stare freely. The longer he looked, the more certain he was that the pockmarks weren’t oozing—they were melting. Amusement tugged at the corners of his mouth.
“I confess, ye have me curious,” he said, leaning close to her ear. “What would cause a lass to give herself pockmarks?”
Glynis jerked her head up and stared at him. Despite the distracting red boils that were easing their way down her face, Alex couldn’t help noticing that she had beautiful gray eyes.
“’Tis unkind to poke fun at a lady’s unfortunate looks,” she said.
It was disconcerting to hear such a lovely voice come out of that alarming face. Alex let his gaze drift over her, taking in the graceful swan neck and the long, slender fingers clenching her wine cup.
“Your secret is safe with me, lass,” Alex said in a low voice. “But I suspect your family already knows it’s a disguise.”
He was hoping for a laugh, but he got none.
“Come,” he said, waggling his eyebrows at her. “Tell me why ye did it.”
She took a deep drink from her wine, then said, “So ye wouldn’t want to marry me, of course.”
Alex laughed. “I fear ye went to a good deal of trouble for no purpose, for I have no intention of leaving here with a wife. But does it happen to ye often that men see ye once and want to marry ye?”
“My father says men are fools for beauty, so I couldn’t take the risk.”
The woman said this with utter seriousness. Alex hadn’t been this amused in some time—and he was a man easily amused.
“No matter how lovely ye are beneath the padding and paste,” Alex said, “ye are quite safe from finding wedded bliss with me.”
She searched his face, as if trying to decide if she could believe him. The combination of her sober expression and the globs sliding down her face made it hard not to laugh, but he managed.
“My father was certain your new chieftain would want a marriage between our clans,” she said at last, “to show his goodwill after the trouble caused by the MacDonald pirates.”
“Your father isn’t far wrong,” Alex said. “But my chieftain, who is also my cousin and good friend, knows my feelings about matrimony.”
Alex realized he’d been so caught up in his conversation with this unusual lass that he’d been ignoring her father and the rest of the table. When he turned to join their conversation, however, he found that no one else was speaking. Every member of Glynis’s family was staring at them.
Alex guessed this was the first time Glynis had tried this particular method of thwarting a potential suitor.
Glynis nudged him. When he turned back to her, she nodded toward Duncan, who, as usual, was putting away astonishing quantities of food.
“What about your friend?” she asked in a low voice. “Is he in want of a wife?”
Duncan only wanted one woman. Unfortunately, that particular woman was living in Ireland with her husband.
“No, you’re safe from Duncan as well.”
Glynis dropped her shoulders and closed her eyes, as if he’d just told her that a loved one she’d feared dead had been found alive.
“’Tis a pleasure to talk with a woman who is almost as set against marriage as I am.” Alex lifted his cup to her. “To our escape from that blessèd union.”
Apparently Glynis couldn’t spare him a smile, but she did raise her cup to his.
“How could ye tell my gown was padded?” she asked.
“I pinched your behind.”
Her jaw dropped. “Ye wouldn’t dare.”
“Ach, of course I would,” he said, though he hadn’t. “And ye didn’t feel a thing.”
“How did ye know I didn’t feel it?” she asked.
“Well, it’s like this,” he said, leaning forward on his elbows. “A pinch earns a man either a slap or a wink, and ye gave me neither.”
Her laugh was all the more lovely for being unexpected.
“Ye are a devil,” she said and poked his arm with her finger.
That long, slender finger made him wonder what the rest of her looked like without the padding. He was a man of considerable imagination.
“Which do ye get more often, a wink or a slap?” she asked.
“’Tis always a wink, lass.”
Glynis laughed again and missed the startled looks her father and sisters gave her.
“Ye are a vain man, to be sure.” She took a drumstick from the platter as she spoke, and Alex realized he hadn’t taken a bite since she sat down.
“It’s just that I know women,” Alex explained, as he took a slab of roasted mutton with his knife. “So I can tell the ones who would welcome a pinch.”
Glynis pointed her drumstick at him. “Ye pinched me, and I didn’t want ye to.”
“Pinching your padding doesn’t count,” Alex said. “You’d wink if I pinched ye, Mistress Glynis. Ye may not know it yet, but I can tell.”
Instead of laughing and calling him vain again, as he’d hoped, her expression turned tense. “I don’t like the way my father looks.”
“How does he look to ye?” Alex asked.
“Hopeful.”
* * *
Alex and Duncan slept on the floor of the hall with a score of snoring MacNeils. At dawn, Alex awoke to the sound of soft footfalls crossing the floor. He rolled to the side and leaped to his feet, leaving his host kicking the empty space where Alex had been lying.
“You’re quick,” the MacNeil said, with an approving nod. “I only meant to wake ye.”
“That could have gotten ye killed,” Alex said, as he slipped his dirk back into his belt. “And then I’d have no end of trouble leaving your fine home.”
Duncan was feigning sleep, but his hand was on the hilt of his dagger. If Alex gave the signal, Duncan would slit their host’s throat, and the two of them would be halfway to their boat before anyone else in the hall knew what had happened.
“Come for a stroll with me,” the MacNeil said. “I’ve something to show ye.”
“I could use some fresh air after all the whiskey ye gave me last night.”
Because it was difficult to discover a man’s true intentions when he was sober, Alex had matched the MacNeil drink for drink far into the night. No doubt his host had the same goal in mind.
“No one forced it down your throat,” the MacNeil said, as they left the hall.
“Ah, but ye knew I am a MacDonald,” Alex said. “We don’t like to lose, whether it be drinking games or battles.”
The MacNeil cocked an eyebrow. “Or women?”
Alex didn’t take the bait. His problem had never been losing women, but finding a graceful way to end it when the time came—which it always did.
Alex followed the MacNeil out the gate and onto the narrow causeway that connected the castle to the main island.
The MacNeil halted and pointed down the beach. “My daughter Glynis is there.”
Alex’s gaze was riveted to the slender figure walking barefoot al
ong the shore with her back to them. Her long hair was blowing in the wind, and every few feet she stopped and leaned over to pick up something from the beach. Ach, she made a lovely sight. Alex had a weakness for a woman who liked to get her feet wet.
“Ye strike me as a curious man,” the MacNeil said. “Don’t ye want to know what she truly looks like?”
Alex did want to know. He narrowed his eyes at the MacNeil. He was more accustomed to having fathers hide their daughters from him. “Are ye not fond of your daughter?”
“Glynis is my only child by my first wife. She’s verra much like her mother, who was as difficult a woman as was ever born.” The MacNeil sighed. “God, how I loved her.”
More proof if Alex needed it—which he didn’t—that love led to misery.
“The other girls are sweet, biddable lasses who will tell their husbands they are wise and clever and always in the right, whether they are or no,” the chieftain continued. “But not Glynis.”
The younger sisters sounded too dull by half.
“I didn’t raise Glynis any different, she just is,” the MacNeil said. “If we were attacked and I was killed, the other girls would weep and wail, helpless creatures that they are. But Glynis would pick up a sword and fight like a she-wolf to protect the others.”
“So why are ye so anxious to see Glynis wed?” Alex asked. She seemed the only one worth keeping to him.
“She and her stepmother are like dry kindling and a lit torch. Glynis needs her own home. She doesn’t like being under the thumb of another woman.”
“Or a man’s,” Alex said. “Judging from what I heard she did to her former husband.”
“Ach, he was a fool to tell the tale,” the MacNeil said with a wave of his hand. “What man with any pride would admit his wife got her blade into his hip? Ye know what she was aiming for, of course.”
Alex winced. He’d had women weep and occasionally toss things at him, but none had ever tried to cut off his manly parts.
But then, Alex had never married.
CHAPTER 3
The pungent smell of low tide filled Alex’s nose as he followed Glynis MacNeil over the barnacled rocks and seaweed along the shore. Each time the wind blew against her skirts and revealed her slender frame, he smiled to himself. She was absorbed in collecting shells and did not appear to hear his approach over the cries of the gulls and the rhythmic crash of the surf.
When she hiked her skirts to create a makeshift basket for her collection, a sigh of appreciation escaped Alex’s throat. He could see no more than slender ankles and a precious few inches of calf, but his gaze slid upward, imagining long, shapely legs.
Glynis paused over a tide pool. Something caught her eye, and she dropped down for a closer look, wrapping her arms around her knees. Her rich brown hair formed a curtain, hiding her face from his view. Would the lass’s face be as alluring as her long, slender body?
It was time to satisfy his curiosity. In a few long strides, he stood over her.
“I see ye found a purple starfish,” Alex said. “That means good luck is coming your way.” He made that up, of course.
When Glynis tipped her head back to look at him, Alex’s heart missed several beats—and then made up for it by hammering in his chest. He’d noticed the beauty of her wide, gray eyes the night before. But in that face, they were arresting.
Her features were a tantalizing mixture of wholesomeness and sensuality, from the sprinkling of delicate freckles across her nose to her full, rosy lips. The unusual combination set off warring urges within him. He had a wild desire to lay her back on the sand and watch those gray eyes glaze with pleasure as he had his wicked way with her. At the same time, he felt an odd urge to protect her.
Alex knew he should reassure her, for he had clearly startled her, but words failed him. This was so unlike him that he wondered for a moment if a fairy had cast a spell upon him.
But then the lass fell backward onto her arse, and he knew she was human.
* * *
The man’s voice startled Glynis, and she looked up with her heart pounding.
She recognized the golden warrior looming above her to be Alex MacDonald, the man she’d spoken to last night. At least, part of her knew that was who he was. But with the glow of sunrise shining all about him, he looked like a Viking marauder come to blazing life out of the old stories her father’s seannachie told.
She could imagine him standing in the prow of his ship with his white-blond hair blowing behind him and carved gold bands encircling his bare, muscled arms. When he fixed green eyes the color of the sea on her, she felt as if something slammed into her chest, and she fell backward.
The shock of cold water jarred her from her trance. Heat flooded her cheeks as she realized she was sitting in a pool of seawater, soaking the back of her skirts to her skin.
“Sorry, lass. I shouldn’t have startled ye like that.” The glint of humor that touched his eyes as he held out his hand should have made him less threatening—but it did not.
Glynis swallowed and gave him her hand, which was gritty with sand. He hoisted her up effortlessly, as if she were as petite as her sisters. Tall as she was, Glynis had to tilt back her head to look into his face. She was vaguely aware that she was staring, but she couldn’t seem to help herself.
What was God thinking, allowing a man to be this handsome?
He stood so close that the heat radiating from his body drove the chill right out of her. The humor that had touched his eyes was gone, replaced by something darker that pulled her toward this MacDonald warrior as if an undertow were dragging her out to sea.
“Ye should be more aware of your surroundings, lass,” Alex said, still standing far too close. “I could have been a dangerous man.”
“And ye aren’t one?” she asked.
“Me?” His teeth were white, and his smile had the force of the summer sun on a clear day. “I’m dangerous as sin.”
“My father’s guards can see us from the castle.”
Alex glanced over his shoulder. “I could have ye behind the trees or in my boat before they were out the castle gate.” He paused, eyes glinting. “Especially if ye were willing.”
She rolled her eyes. “No fear of that.”
“Are ye certain?” he asked in a husky voice that resonated somewhere deep in her belly.
Glynis held her breath, unable to move, as Alex lifted his hand to her face. Even though she anticipated his touch, her stomach fluttered when he brushed the back of his fingers against her cheek. Her gaze dropped to his wide, sensuous mouth, and her throat went dry. This man would know how to give a lass a proper kiss—not like that wretched Magnus Clanranald she’d wed.
She felt herself leaning forward and snapped her head back. “I warn ye, I’ve got a dirk, and I’m no afraid to use it.”
“So I’ve heard, but ye won’t need your dirk,” Alex said. “I like my women willing.”
And she’d wager there were plenty of those.
“You’ve nothing to fear,” he said. “I never harm women.”
“If ye don’t count breaking their hearts.”
Glynis didn’t know what made her blurt out the words. But he stiffened, and she saw the truth reflected in his eyes. Alex MacDonald had broken hearts, but he didn’t glory in it. Nay, it pained him.
Of course, that only added to his appeal. A heartless man would be easier to resist.
“You’re safe from me.” Alex gave her a wink, and she could almost see him pull on his charming mask. “I don’t dally with women who are looking for husbands.”
“I’m no looking for a husband.” Her cheeks grew warm as soon as the words were out of her mouth. “I didn’t mean I wish to d… d…” Try as she might, she could not get the word dally to cross her lips.
“I can’t say the same.” He gave her a devilish grin that sent hot darts of awareness across her skin. “But even if ye aren’t looking for a husband, your father is, and that amounts to the same thing. Besides, ye deserve bette
r than me.”
“I do,” she snapped. “God save me from another handsome philanderer.”
Something flickered in his eyes before the smiling mask dropped into place again. It was a blindingly handsome mask, but Glynis found herself wondering about the part of Alexander MacDonald that he hid from the world.
She felt guilty for being sharp with him, when the man had done nothing more than tease her, so she asked, “Do ye want to see my favorite spot?”
“It might be more fun to let me find it myself,” he said.
Her breath caught as his eyes traveled over her slowly from head to toe.
“I meant on the beach!” She punched his arm, and it was like hitting iron. “Ach, ye are the worst rogue I’ve ever met.”
He laughed and took her hand. “Lead me where ye will, fair lady.”
Alex’s hand was big and warm around hers. She’d never walked hand in hand with a man before, and she felt a wee bit wicked for it—in a good sort of way.
She took him to the far end of the bay.
“The seals like to gather here.” She pointed to a huge, flat rock that jutted out of the water a few yards offshore.
They found a dry, sandy area high on the beach and sat down. As she removed her hand from his, her gaze slid over his arm, taking in the golden hairs against his tanned skin. Alex stretched out his long, muscular legs, which were covered with the same golden hair.
“Ye should lie on your stomach,” he said, “so the sun can dry the back of your gown.”
Glynis was tempted. Her stepmother was bound to make unpleasant remarks about Glynis’s slovenly ways if she returned to the castle with her gown soaked. But she couldn’t very well lie down when she was alone with a man.
“I wouldn’t want your father to think I had ye on your back in the sand,” Alex said. “We’d be wed before noon.”
Glynis flopped down on her stomach and leaned on her elbows. They watched in companionable silence as several seals hauled themselves out of the sea to nap on the flat rock.
The Sinner Page 2
