The Sinner

by Margaret Mallory

  Alex nudged her with his knee. “What other tricks have ye used to drive away potential husbands?”

  “I tell them I’m barren.” She kept her voice flat to cover how much this hurt. “That’s sufficient to discourage most of them.”

  “Ye can’t know that for certain, can ye?” Alex asked. “You’re young yet.”

  Glynis shrugged. Since she was never going to marry again, it was of no consequence.

  “What about the men who already have heirs?” he asked. “How do ye discourage them?”

  “I’ve rubbed onions on my clothes and chewed garlic.” She sighed. “If that isn’t enough, I say I dreamed I was wearing widow’s clothes on my next birthday.”

  Alex’s laugh rumbled deep in his throat. It was a surprisingly pleasant sound.

  “Are ye the one who started the story about stabbing your husband?” he asked.

  “I fear that one is true,” she said. “I do find it useful.”

  This time, his laughter roused two or three seals, who lifted their heads to look at them before resuming their slumber.

  “I doubt your father is trying to marry ye off to make ye suffer,” Alex said. “He needs alliances, just as my chieftain does.”

  “And the wrong alliances will bring disaster,” Glynis said. “I told my father not to join this rebellion, but, of course, he wouldn’t listen to me.”

  Half the clans in the Western Isles had risen against the Scottish Crown in yet another doomed rebellion.

  “The rebellion will fail eventually,” Alex said. “But until it does, any clan that takes the side of the Crown risks being attacked by its neighbors.”

  “’Tis clever of your chieftain to let each side court him,” she said.

  “Court him?” Alex said. “Connor feels like he’s straddling two sea monsters, while each tries to snap his head off and dump him into the sea.”

  She couldn’t help but smile at his colorful description, but she was worried about her clan. “You’re lucky to be a man. Ye can serve your clan without being bought and sold like a cow.”

  “I’ve never met a woman with such a low opinion of marriage,” Alex said, then he added something under his breath that sounded very much like “except for my mother.”

  “I’d do anything for my clan but wed,” Glynis said.

  “Since we are of one mind on that,” Alex said, “we can be friends, aye?”

  She looked over her shoulder at him. “Do ye mean it?”

  “Usually I become friends with women after I bed them,” he said. “But I’ll make an exception for ye.”

  “Ye are teasing me again,” she said.

  “Ye are so serious, I can’t help myself,” Alex said in a soft voice. “But if we should meet again, ye can trust me to be a friend.”

  Glynis met his sea-green eyes. “Then I’ll be your friend as well, Alex MacDonald.”

  When she shifted her gaze back to the seals, several of them lifted their heads. Then, one by one, they began slipping into the water.

  “Get up,” Alex said with steel in his voice.

  Before she could move, his hands encircled her waist, and he lifted her to her feet.

  “Damn,” Alex said between his teeth, as a war galley glided around the point of the bay.

  “They could be friendly,” Glynis said, but her heart was pounding hard in her chest.

  “That’s Hugh MacDonald’s ship,” Alex said, his gaze fixed on it. “We’ll try to outrun them and get back to the castle.”

  Alex grabbed her hand, and they flew over the sand and rocks. The pirate galley must have been spotted in the castle as well. Across the small bay, two dozen men poured over the causeway from the castle. The pirates were sailing for the beach midway between them and the castle in an attempt to cut them off before her father’s men could reach them.

  It looked as if the pirates would succeed. Though her bare feet were cut and bleeding from the barnacles, Glynis ran faster and faster. But the castle guards were too far away—and the pirates too close.

  The guards were still a hundred yards away when the pirate’s boat grounded. Glynis jerked to a halt and watched in horror as men dropped over the side of the ship and started splashing toward shore.

  Alex lifted her onto a high rock.

  “Stay here so I know where ye are,” he ordered. “I won’t let them get to ye.”

  As Alex turned from her, he reached behind him for his claymore, and the steel of his blade whistled through the air. His battle cry “Fraoch!” thundered in her ears as he ran straight at the pirates coming toward them through the surf.

  Without breaking his stride, Alex cut down the first two men. As he leaped over the blade of a third, he swung his claymore into the man’s side.

  Glynis screamed as another pirate charged Alex before he could recover from his last swing with the big, two-handed sword. With flowing movements, Alex released one hand from his claymore, pulled his dirk from his belt, and plunged it into the man’s chest. His attacker sank to his knees with a cry, and his blood colored the water around him in rusty clouds.

  Alex glanced over his shoulder at her as if to be sure none of the pirates had gotten past him. His eyes were murderous, and his every muscle taut and ready.

  This was not the laughing man who sat beside Glynis watching seals a short time ago. Nay, this Alexander Bàn MacDonald was every inch a fearsome Highland warrior—and he was magnificent to behold.

  Her father’s men were running the last few yards to join the fight, with Duncan MacDonald in the lead. The two groups crashed together with shouts and grunts and swords clanging.

  Glynis could not take her eyes off the two MacDonald men. Despite the pirates’ greater number, the pair were lethal. They forced the pirates back, and back again, under a unified and ferocious assault. Although her father’s men fought well, they fought individually. The MacDonald warriors fought as a merciless unit.

  Their violence had a grace and control that bespoke years of practice. After a time, she could catch some of the silent signals between them. You take this one, I’ll take that one. The pirates fell before them, one after another.

  Something drew her attention from the fierce battle raging on the beach to the pirate ship. A man stood alone in the prow with his arms folded across his broad chest. He was staring at her. As their eyes locked across the distance, a cold shiver went up her spine.

  She sensed this man meant her harm—and not just the harm he meant to anyone who crossed his path. She didn’t know why, but she felt as if he was fixing her in his mind, as if he had a particular, evil plan for her.

  With his eyes still on her, the man put his fingers to his mouth and made a piercing whistle. The pirates on the beach ran to the boat and scrambled up the sides like rats.

  Alex ran after them into the surf until he stood in water to his waist.

  “Hugh Dubh MacDonald,” he shouted, waving his claymore in the air. “Come back and fight, ye miserable coward!”

  “Tell my nephew I’ll see him dead,” the man in the prow shouted back. He ducked just as Alex’s dirk sailed through the air where his head had been.

  While her father’s men congratulated themselves on their success in driving the pirates off and Duncan cleaned his sword, Alex stood in the water raining curses on the departing ship. Finally, Alex turned and strode through the surf toward the beach with the sun glinting on his hair and fire burning in his eyes.

  “’Tis safe to go to the castle now, Mistress Glynis,” one of her father’s men said. “Let me help ye down.”

  As the man reached up to grasp her about the waist, Alex’s shout stopped him.

  “Take your hands off her!”

  The guard jumped back and stared at Alex. Glynis’s heart was in her throat as Alex stormed up the beach dripping water and blood, looking like his Viking ancestors who once terrorized these coasts. His eyes bored into her as if no one else existed.

  When Alex reached her, he clamped his hands around her waist a
nd lifted her off the rock. His eyes never left her face as he slid her down his body, every inch of her rubbing against the scorching heat of his muscular frame. Glynis’s knees were weak before her feet touched the ground.

  Alex’s eyes had a wild fierceness and a hunger that sent her pulse racing.

  “Aye,” she whispered and held on as he leaned her backward.

  * * *

  Battle lust throbbed in Alex’s veins and left him hard. When he turned and saw Glynis on the rock, he would have killed to have her. He had never wanted a woman as much as he wanted Glynis MacNeil right now.

  From the moment their bodies touched, he felt as if it had been ordained that they should join. Her body melded to his as if she had been made for him alone. Alex kissed her with all the lust pounding through him, his tongue thrusting, possessing. He had to have her.

  He heard Duncan call his name through the haze of lust, but he didn’t give a damn. Nothing mattered but this woman’s sweet mouth on his. She was a wonder under his hands, responding with an awakening passion that had him yearning to lie her down and take her on the sand.

  The sharp prick of a steel point in the middle of his back was a bit harder to ignore than Duncan.

  “I appreciate ye saving my daughter from your miserable pirate relations,” the MacNeil said close to Alex’s ear. “But unless ye want to leave here with a wife, you’d best release her now.”

  Alex wanted her so much that he could almost have agreed to a life in chains just to have her this once. But when Glynis’s eyes went wide with panic, he came to his senses. Slowly, he straightened and forced himself to release her.

  Glynis swayed on her feet, as if her legs might not hold her. When Alex started to reach for her, her father gave him a quelling look and put a firm arm around her shoulders.

  Alex glanced left and right, taking in the circle of men around them. What madness had taken hold of him to kiss the chieftain’s daughter—and to kiss her like that—in front of all of her father’s warriors? Alex hadn’t given a thought to the other men on the beach. Nay, he hadn’t even seen them.

  Stealing a kiss from a willing lass was no grave offense, so the MacNeil probably wouldn’t kill him. On the other hand, his timing was verra poor, and any fool could see that he hadn’t meant to stop with the kiss.

  “What do ye have to say for yourself, Alex Bàn MacDonald?” the MacNeil chieftain demanded.

  “If I said I was sorry for kissing your daughter, we’d both know I was lying,” Alex said. Then he turned to Glynis, who looked as dazed as he felt. “I am sorry, lass, if I embarrassed ye.”

  Alex wished he could speak with her without all the others watching, so he could ask her if she was all right. But if he did have Glynis MacNeil alone now, he knew damned well they wouldn’t waste the opportunity talking.

  CHAPTER 4

  DUNSCAITH CASTLE, ISLE OF SKYE

  TWO MONTHS LATER

  Alex waved to his cousin, the chieftain of the MacDonalds of Sleat, who was making his way down to the shore from Dunscaith Castle to meet him. Connor’s shoulder-length black hair blew behind him as he jumped from rock to rock.

  “Have ye started to regret taking the chieftainship yet?” Alex asked, as Connor helped haul the boat up onto the beach.

  “Every day,” Connor said with a dry laugh. “How do our clansmen on North Uist fare?”

  “They’ve lost a good deal to the raiders, but they won’t starve,” Alex said. “The fishing is good, and the other supplies I delivered should see them through until the next harvest.”

  After climbing up the hill, he and Connor crossed the narrow bridge to the castle, which was built on a rock off the headland.

  “Ian and Duncan are here as well,” Connor said. “We have clan business to discuss.”

  Inside, the hall had clean rushes, and the servants were sober. This was a far cry from the condition the castle had been in when they took it from Connor’s uncle Hugh. The cleanliness and order were the work of Duncan’s sister, Ilysa. Though they weren’t actually related, Ilysa was the closest thing Connor had to a female relative to perform the castle duties in place of a wife.

  Their cousin Ian, who looked so much like Connor they could pass as brothers, was sitting at the chieftain’s high table with Duncan.

  “Ian, ye look like shite,” Alex greeted him.

  Ian grinned. “The twins are keeping Sìleas and me up most nights. They’re getting more new teeth.”

  Ach, no. The last time Alex had seen Ian’s bairns, one of them crawled up his leg, sank her teeth into his knee, and held on like a limpet.

  “’Tis only the start of the trouble those pretty babes are going to cause ye,” Alex said. “Ye know that, don’t ye?”

  “I do,” Ian said with a weary smile. “They are beauties, aren’t they?”

  The thought of raising daughters gave Alex the shudders, but Ian’s eyes shone when he spoke of his wee, red-haired devils.

  At Connor’s signal, the other men in the hall moved away to allow the four of them to speak in private. Connor had a formal council of senior clansmen, as was expected, but everyone knew that Ian, Alex, and Duncan were his closest advisers.

  “We need to forge strong alliances to survive these troubled times,” Connor said, taking the seat across the table from Alex. “Our clan is still weak after losing my father and so many other men at the Battle of Flodden.”

  The four of them had been in France when they received the news of the Scots’ disastrous loss to Henry VIII’s forces at Flodden. They had returned home to find their king and their chieftain among the dead and their clan in a dire state.

  “We succeeded in throwing Hugh out of the chieftain’s castle,” Alex said.

  He did not mention that Connor’s uncle was still a source of dissention within the clan. Some of their clansmen mistook Hugh’s brutality for strength and, if given the chance, would support him as chieftain.

  “We have much to do yet,” Connor said, his voice hard. “We cannot rest until we have control over all of the lands that rightfully belong to our clan.”

  “Aye!” Duncan said, and they all raised their cups.

  They had secured their base here on the Isle of Skye, with Connor holding Dunscaith Castle on one side of the Sleat Peninsula and Ian holding Knock Castle on the other. It pained them all, however, that the MacLeods had stolen the Trotternish Peninsula while the four of them were still in France. And now, Hugh and his pirates were ravaging their lands on the island of North Uist.

  “We don’t yet have the strength to fight the MacLeods for the rest of our lands here on Skye,” Ian said. “That will be a bloody battle when it comes.”

  “Our first task should be to protect our kin on North Uist,” Alex said. “Our clansmen there live at the mercy of these pirates.” Seeing how his kinsmen were preyed upon had eaten a hole in his stomach.

  “I agree,” Connor said. “Before the fall harvest, I want one of ye to rebuild our castle on North Uist and remain there to protect our clansmen.”

  “It’s high time we took on your marauding uncles.” Alex had a burning desire to strangle Hugh with his bare hands for taking food out of the mouths of his own kinsmen. “Give me a few warriors, and I’ll set sail in the morning.”

  “If it weren’t for this damned rebellion, I’d send ye now,” Connor said, shaking his head. “Unfortunately, we have other business that can’t wait.”

  “What’s happened?” Duncan asked.

  “The new regent has summoned me to court in Edinburgh,” Connor said.

  When the Scottish king was killed at Flodden, he left a babe as his heir, and the court factions had been fighting for control ever since. The king’s widow, who was also the sister of the hated Henry VIII, was regent for a time. But when the queen remarried, the Council had called John Stewart, the Duke of Albany, from France to take her place.

  “Albany wants to see the new chieftain of the MacDonalds of Sleat bend his knee and swear allegiance to the Crown,” I
an said.

  “Ach, no, ye can’t go,” Duncan said. “Ye know how many times a Highland chieftain has obeyed a summons to court and ended up dead or imprisoned.”

  “We can’t risk losing ye,” Ian said.

  They were not just speaking out of affection for Connor. By tradition, their chieftain must be a man who had the chieftain’s family blood in his veins. Ian and Alex were related to Connor through their mothers so they couldn’t replace him—praise God. The only men still alive who could be chieftain besides Connor were his half uncles, and their clan would not survive under the leadership of one of them.

  “Aye, but if I don’t go, Albany will believe I’ve joined the rebellion.” Connor heaved a deep sigh. “’Tis getting harder and harder to stay out of this fight between the rebel clans and the Crown, though I see no gain for our clan either way.”

  “Send one of us in your place,” Ian said. “Whoever goes can concoct an excuse why ye can’t make the long journey to Edinburgh at this time and appease the regent with vague assurances of your goodwill.”

  Ian was almost as conniving as Connor.

  “The man who goes will risk being held hostage by the Crown,” Alex said, “but it’s a good plan.”

  “The rebels are also pressing me to choose sides,” Connor said. “There is a gathering of the rebel clans at the Maclean stronghold. If I’m not there, we could face attack by the neighboring clans who support the rebellion. The MacLeods, for one, would be happy for an excuse to try to take more of our lands.”

  “Again, send one of us,” Ian said. “We must straddle the two sides for as long as we can.”

  “Which brings me back to our need for alliances,” Connor said, looking directly at Alex. “Marriage alliances.”

  “No,” Alex said, meeting his cousin’s gaze. “Ye will not ask that of me.”

  Connor rubbed his hand over his face. He looked even more tired than Ian, and considerably less happy.

  “What I propose is that Alex wed a lass whose clan is on one side of the rebellion,” Connor said, “and Duncan wed a lass whose clan is on the other side.”