The Sinner (2 page)

A
lex guided the boat to the sea gate of the MacNeil castle, which was built on a rock island a few yards offshore. A short time later, he and Duncan were surrounded by a large group of armed MacNeil warriors who escorted them into the castle’s keep.

“I see we’ve got them scared,” Alex said in a low voice to Duncan.

“We could take them,” Duncan grunted.

“Did ye notice that there are twelve of them?” Alex asked.

“I’m no saying it would be easy.”

Alex laughed, which had the MacNeils all reaching for their swords. He was enjoying himself. Still, he hoped that he and Duncan wouldn’t have to fight their way out. These were Highland warriors, not Englishmen or Lowlanders, and everyone knew MacNeils were mean and devious fighters.

Almost as mean and devious as MacDonalds.

But the MacNeils had more dangerous weapons in their arsenal. Alex heard Duncan groan beside him as they entered the hall and saw what was waiting for them.

“God save us” escaped Alex’s lips. There were three twittering lasses sitting at the head table. The girls were pretty, but young and innocent enough to give Alex hives.

One of them wiggled her fingers at him, then her sister elbowed her in the ribs, and all three went into a fit of giggles behind their hands.

It was going to be a long evening.

“Quiet!” the chieftain thundered, and the color drained from the girls’ faces.

After exchanging greetings with Alex and Duncan, the MacNeil introduced his wife, an attractive, plump woman half his age, and his young son, who sat on her lap.

“These are my three youngest daughters,” the chieftain said, waving his arm toward the girls. “My eldest will join us soon.”

The missing daughter would be the one they’d heard about. She was rumored to be a rare beauty who had been turned out by her husband in disgrace.

She sounded like Alex’s kind of woman.

Before the chieftain could direct them where to sit, Alex and Duncan took seats at the far end from the three lasses. After a cursory prayer, wine and ale was poured, and the first courses were brought out.

Alex wanted to get their business done and leave. “Our chieftain hopes to strengthen the friendship between our two clans and has sent us here on a mission of goodwill.”

The MacNeil kept glancing at the doorway, his face darker each time. Though their host didn’t appear to be listening to a word, Alex forged ahead.

“Our chieftain pledges to join ye in fighting the pirates who are harassing your shores,” Alex said.

That caught the MacNeil’s attention. “The worst of them is his own uncle, Hugh Dubh,” he said, using the nickname Black Hugh, given him for his black heart.

“Hugh is his half uncle,” Duncan put in, as if that explained it all. “Two of his other half uncles have joined the pirates as well.”

“How do I know these MacDonald pirates aren’t raping and pillaging the outer isles on your chieftain’s orders?” the MacNeil demanded.

This was precisely what Connor feared the other chieftains would believe.

“Because they’ve raided our own clansmen up on North Uist,” Alex said. “Since we can’t know when or where Hugh will attack, the best way to catch him is to find his camp. Have ye heard any rumors of where it might be?”

“They say Hugh Dubh has piles of gold hidden away in his camp,” one of the MacNeil’s look-alike daughters piped up, “and he has a sea monster that protects it.”

“But no one can find Hugh,” another girl added, fixing wide blue eyes on Alex, “because he can call up a sea mist by magic and disappear.”

“Then I’ll just look for a sea monster in the mist,” Alex said to the girls, and Duncan glared at him for causing another round of giggles.

“Enough of these foolish tales,” their father shouted at the girls, then turned back to Alex and Duncan. “’Tis true that Hugh’s ship does have a way of disappearing into the mists, and no one knows where his camp is.”

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 along 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.

T
he 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 better 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.

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.