The Sinner

by Margaret Mallory

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Say it,” he demanded.

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

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

  “I do.”

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

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

  It was time to settle this between them.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Until death,” he finished for her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

  CHAPTER 32

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “The right answer, wife.”

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

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

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

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

  “I can’t do the rest myself.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “That felt so good that I’m certain it must be verra sinful,” she said against his skin.

  She felt the low rumble of his chuckle. “Nothing is sinful between a man and wife, but if it pleases ye to think it is, then I won’t argue with ye.”

  When she scooted closer, his shaft pressed against her belly, reminding her of his need. And just like that, she wanted him all over again. She pulled him into a deep kiss. Alex groaned in her mouth as she rubbed her palm up his shaft.

  He needed no more encouragement. When he rolled her on her back, she wrapped her legs around him. She closed her eyes against the rush of pleasure as he slid inside her. When she opened her eyes again, he held her head between his hands and stared down at her.

  “I missed being with ye like this,” Alex said, as if the confession was torn from him against his will.

  “I missed ye too.”

  With their eyes locked on each other, he started moving in and out. His breathing was ragged, and his face strained. She knew Alex prided himself on his control, but she sensed that he was barely hanging on to it—and she wanted it to snap. She wanted to feel his raw need, to know that he was as affected as she was.

  As he moved faster and deeper, she gripped his shoulders and wrapped her legs more tightly around him. She had so many emotions swirling inside her—desire, affection, hope, longing—that she felt as if her chest might burst.

  I love you. The words were in her mind and almost on her lips.

  Waves of blinding pleasure coursed through her as he thrust inside her again and again. He cried her name as he drove deep inside her one last time.

  Then he collapsed on top of her, his weight heavy but reassuring. He was hers. At least for now, he was hers.

  After a short while, he rolled to his side, bringing her with him. Her limbs felt limp, as if they would bend in the waves like seaweed. She lay with her head on his chest and his heart thundering in her ear.

  Something profound had happened, and it had altered her forever. It wasn’t that she had agreed to wed him, though that would certainly change her life. God help her, but there was no avoiding it—she had fallen in love with him. Was she alone in this, or had Alex felt as much as she did when he was inside her?

  Alex lay on his back with one arm about her and his other hand holding hers on his chest. Glynis watched his profile while he stared at the ceiling.

  “What are ye thinking?” she finally asked.

  “That it’s strange to be married without Connor, Ian, and Duncan knowing it,” Alex said.

  She swallowed back her disappointment. “Ye are close to them, aren’t ye?”

  “Aye. The four of us have been through everything together,” he said with a smile in his voice. “They are the first ones I will tell.”

  “What about your parents?”

  He blew his breath out. “I’ll tell them when I see them.”

  Would his parents not be pleased with the marriage? Did they have someone else in mind for him?

  Alex turned toward her and cradled the side of her face with his hand. “We shall wed properly when we return to Skye,” he said, with his eyes intent on hers. “I’ll send word to your father. As soon as he arrives, we’ll say our pledges again before witnesses and have a great wedding feast at Dunscaith Castle.”

  “I’ll meet your parents at this wedding feast?” she asked. “What are they like?”

  “We can talk about my parents later,” he said, as he brought his lips to hers.

  * * *

  It was not like Glynis to go back on her word. All the same, Alex would not be content until he had a formal marriage contract with her father, and they had said their pledges before a dozen of their clansmen. If Alex could find a priest, all the better.

  While they made love, his anger and resentment had burned away in the hot flame of desire. He was so lost in his passion for Glynis that nothing else
mattered. And then after, as she lay in his arms, happiness took told of him for long moments, blinding him to truths he should not let himself forget.

  But with the dawn, his caution returned with his resentment.

  Alex knew he had no right to resent that Glynis only agreed to wed him after she learned D’Arcy was not offering her marriage. Nor should it have angered him that Glynis saw him as the least offensive of undesirable choices, for Alex had made that very argument himself. And if she also did it because she wanted to be a mother to his daughter, he should be glad of that.

  And yet, all these things ate at him.

  Alex had not wanted to marry any more than she did. But when he decided to, Glynis MacNeil was his first and his only choice. No one else would do.

  And that troubled him most of all.

  CHAPTER 33

  Poor Bessie had shown herself to be a Lowlander by spending much of the long sail with her head over the side. While Glynis tucked a blanket around the sleeping maid, she heard Alex laughing and talking with the Campbell men who were sailing them to Skye.

  The Campbell chieftain had provided a boat to take them home, and Alex had persuaded the Campbell men sailing it to let him take the rudder. Under his sure hand, the boat glided over the water and around the rocks as smoothly as a fairy flying through trees in a forest.

  Glynis bit her lip and fixed her gaze on the Isle of Skye ahead on the horizon. Alex had not laughed with her once since they left Inveraray Castle days before. From the moment she had told him she would be his wife, he had lost his easy cheerfulness.

  Clearly, Alex did not want this marriage. He needed a wife—or rather, a mother for his daughter—but he was not happy about it. She should have taken heed from her first conversation with him back on Barra. Ye are quite safe from finding wedded bliss with me.

  Wedded bliss, indeed. Misery seemed more the way of it. What had she got herself into?