The Sinner (14 page)

B
y the saints, Glynis MacNeil was a stubborn woman. In the week since Alex suggested they marry, she had not spoken to him except when absolutely necessary.

Worse, she spent far too much time riding beside D’Arcy. They were in front of him and Sorcha now, engaged in a lively conversation that involved hand motions as much as words. It appeared that she was teaching D’Arcy Gaelic. Still, Glynis had kept her promise to care for Sorcha on the trip. Every night, she sat by the fire with his daughter in her lap and then slept with her—instead of him.

Alex usually let women come to him, but he was not above seducing Glynis to persuade her to wed him. It should not be difficult—he could tell she wanted him. He was always catching her eyes on him, because he was always looking at her as well. Unfortunately, the opportunities to seduce her while riding out in the open with twenty men and his daughter were few, so Alex was biding his time until they reached the Campbell stronghold.

In the meantime, he was wooing her with his stories around the campfire. Glynis was a constant surprise, for beneath that sober, sensible demeanor was a lass with a weakness for a good tale. Alex hoped her weakness would extend to the storyteller.

“That castle ye see across this loch is Inveraray Castle, the seat of the Campbell clan,” Alex said, pointing it out for Sorcha. Sometimes now he spoke to her only in Gaelic, and she would tap on his arm to let him know when she did not understand. “We’ll reach it tomorrow.”

Glynis slowed her horse to ride beside them.

“The Campbells are a powerful clan, and this is just one of their castles,” Alex continued. “The Campbell chieftain can raise hundreds of warriors.”

He glanced at Glynis’s stiff form and decided that a wee bit of jealousy might help his cause. “Glynis, do ye think I should look for a wife among the Campbells? Nothing would please my chieftain more.”

“Nor mine.” She gave him a look that would slice through granite. “I suspect a chieftain’s daughter would appeal to those land-grabbing Campbells.”

“If ye wish to catch a man, I suggest ye work on your charm,” Alex said. “Men like sweet,
agreeable
women.”

Sorcha tapped on his arm, but he shook his head. This was not a conversation for a child.

“Is that what ye will tell your daughter?” Glynis asked. “That she must be sweet and agreeable?”

“If I wanted her to wed, I would,” he lied.

“Hmmph.”

Sorcha was tapping furiously on his arm. Finally, he tore his gaze away from the infuriating woman riding beside him to look at his daughter.

“Why are we arguing, is that what ye want to know?” he asked Sorcha. When she nodded, he said, “Because Mistress Glynis is stubborn as a mule and can’t see what is good for her.”

He repeated it in three languages to be sure Glynis did not miss his meaning.

Sorcha had fallen asleep with her head in Glynis’s lap long ago, and Bessie was yawning beside her, while the men took turns telling stories. Glynis had steeled herself against Alex attempting to get her alone on this, their last night before reaching Inveraray Castle, but he appeared in no hurry to leave the main campfire.

She should rouse Sorcha and Bessie and go off to bed, but she was enjoying the tales. If she were truthful, she was only waiting to hear Alex. No one could tell a story like he did—and it gave her an excuse to watch him.

When at last it was Alex’s turn, Glynis smiled in anticipation.

“Since we are about to visit the Campbells, I’ll tell ye the true story about how the Campbell chieftain’s brother became the Thane of Cawdor.”

Alex stretched out his legs, settling himself for a long tale. As he told it, his voice carried around the circle, drawing them in and warming Glynis as much as the fire.

“Seventeen years ago, the last Thane of Cawdor died, leaving no heir but a wee red-haired babe. Her name was Muriel, and she was the last of her line, the sole heiress to the ancient seat of Cawdor.

“Chieftains from all over the Highlands started scheming, each set on making a match between young Muriel and his son—for whatever man the wee lass wed would become the next Thane of Cawdor. The lass was but a babe, so they had plenty of time to work their plans, or so they thought.

“But all that land and wealth in the hands of one wee lass proved too great a temptation to the Campbells. One day, when wee Muriel was four years old, her nursemaid took her outside Cawdor Castle to enjoy the fine weather. And that’s when a party of Campbells, who had been waiting for just such an opportunity, burst out of the woods and stole her away.”

Glynis gasped, and Alex’s eyes twinkled at her as he met her gaze across the fire.

“Muriel’s uncles gave chase, of course. The Campbells were far from home, and it looked as though Muriel’s clansmen would catch them. But the Campbells saw them coming and inverted a large iron kettle on the ground. Then one of the Campbell men ordered all seven of his sons to defend the kettle to the death, pretending wee Muriel was inside it.

“The seven sons fought hard, and every one of them died. When Muriel’s clansmen lifted the kettle to rescue her, they found nothing but the green grass on the ground. While they had been fighting the seven brothers, the rest of the Campbell party had escaped with the lass.”

“’Tis a long journey from Cawdor Castle to the Campbell lands,” one of the men around the campfire said. “Did wee Muriel survive?”

“Ye will have to decide that for yourselves,” Alex said. “When one of the Campbell warriors asked what would happen if the child died before she reached marriageable age, the chieftain said…”

Alex paused until someone called out, “Come, Alex, tell us what he said.”

“The chieftain said that the wee heiress would never die so long as a red-haired lass could be found on either side of Loch Awe—which, as ye know, is in the heart of Campbell territory.”

“Conniving bastard,” one man said amidst the laughter around the campfire.

“It was to prevent just such a scheme,” Alex said, lifting his finger, “that Muriel’s nursemaid had the foresight to bite off the end of the wee lass’s finger when she saw the Campbells burst out of the wood.”

“Ach, the poor child!” Bessie murmured beside Glynis.

“Now do ye suppose, that after the trouble the Campbells went through to get their hands on Muriel, they would let a missing joint on one wee finger come between them and all that land and wealth?”Alex let his gaze move slowly around the circle. “Who’s to say that they didn’t find another red-haired lass and bite off the end of her finger?”

There was a long silence around the campfire.

“But Muriel did live?” Glynis could not help asking.

“Most believe she did,” Alex said. “The red-haired lass was raised in the Campbell chieftain’s household, and on her twelfth birthday she was wed to the chieftain’s son John.”

That was young to wed, though it was legal age of consent.

“Ach, the poor thing must be miserable,” Glynis said.

“’Tis true that the pair was wed for the most practical of reasons,” Alex said, giving her a pointed look across the campfire. “That was five years ago, and by all accounts, they are a remarkably happy couple.”

Glynis did not mistake Alex’s meaning. Holding his gaze, she said, “
Devoted
to each other, no doubt.”

“Aye, despite the fact that the Campbells killed all of Muriel’s uncles after the marriage,” Alex said, then he shifted his gaze to the men around the fire. “The lesson, lads, is to avoid getting yourself between the Campbells and what they want.”

“I could listen to that man’s stories every night and never tire of them,” Bessie said with a long sigh.

Glynis could, as well—if she did not have to wonder who the storyteller was taking to bed afterward.

G
lynis forced herself to drag her gaze from the young red-haired woman’s little finger—which was missing the last joint—to her face. From the way Lady Muriel gazed up at her husband, it was obvious that she adored the man. What was a pleasant surprise was the way John Campbell’s hard expression softened when he looked at Muriel. Happiness radiated from them.

Glynis swallowed back the well of emotion choking her at the sight. Long ago, she had believed that she would find love like that when she wed. She had decided never to marry again, rather than accept something less a second time.

Against her will, her gaze traveled down the head table past Muriel and John to Archibald Campbell, who had become earl and chieftain when his father was killed at the Battle of Flodden. The Campbell chieftain was black-haired and broad-chested, and he had the piercing eyes of a hawk. It was not the chieftain, however, who drew her attention, but his sister.

Catherine Campbell sat on the other side of the chieftain sharing a plate of food with Alex. With her lush curves, creamy skin, and dark, luminous eyes, Catherine was the sort of woman every man lusted after. And anyone could see that she wanted Alex. Catherine was not a subtle woman.

Catherine’s deep, sensuous laugh seemed to flow below the noise in the hall straight into Glynis’s ears. Glynis stabbed her knife into a slab of pork and cut it into tiny bites for Sorcha, who sat beside her. She chewed her own food with such resolve that her jaw ached.

Glynis was so intent on keeping her gaze on the food before her that she was unaware of the hush in the hall until Sorcha poked her in the side. When she looked up, the only sound in the room was a furious whispering between the Campbell chieftain and his brother and sister, who sat on either side of him. The seat next to Catherine was empty.

“Glynis.”

Glynis jumped at the sound of Alex’s voice behind her.

He rested his hand on her shoulder and said close to her ear, “We are leaving the hall.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Shaggy MacLean has just come through the gate,” he said. “’Tis best we not get caught in the middle of this play.”

Alex did not wait for her to agree. He picked up Sorcha, pulled Glynis to her feet, and whisked them through a side door near the end of the head table. The door led into a narrow passageway between the castle’s stone wall and the decorative wood paneling of the interior wall of the hall.

“What is Shaggy doing here?” Glynis whispered.

“I believe he’s come to share the infinitely sad news of the
accidental
death of his beloved wife, Catherine, with her brothers.”

“Nay, he would not!” Glynis said.

“Come,” Alex said with a broad smile. “There’s a peephole behind the head table through which we can watch the fun.”

Peepholes in a castle were family secrets. Either Catherine Campbell had an appalling lack of discretion—or she was anticipating bringing Alex into the family.

“Who was that sitting next to ye?” Alex asked. “Ye seemed friendly.”

Glynis forgot she had even spoken to the man, and it took her a moment to recall his name. “Malcolm Campbell. He seemed a quiet, steady man.”

“Ye mean dull and tedious,” Alex said.

“I’m sure he’s a good man,” she said. “Still waters run deep.”

“Stagnant, more likely.” Alex turned to Sorcha and held his finger to his lips. “I’ll explain to ye later, sweet one.”

Alex came to a halt and pointed out two peepholes, close together. He put his arm around Glynys’s shoulders as they leaned down to look. She closed her eyes for a moment, enjoying his touch, before she remembered what she was supposed to be doing.

“I see him,” she whispered.

Shaggy was walking down the length of the great hall with head down, as if he could hardly bear the weight of his grief. Midway down the room, he staggered. And then he commenced to weeping and wailing, making the most wretched sound Glynis had ever heard.

“Ach, the man is playing the part for all he’s worth,” Alex said beside her.

Lady Catherine had left the table. Glynis remembered how much it had shaken her to see her former husband and couldn’t blame Catherine for wanting to avoid seeing Shaggy after what he’d done to her.

Shaggy’s shoulders shook as he paused to mop his face with a big handkerchief. He continued in this fashion, weeping and wailing, until he was a few feet in front of the chieftain’s high table.

Then, suddenly, he halted midstride. His mouth fell open, and his hand went to his heart. Glynis followed his wide-eyed stare and saw Catherine taking her place next to the Campbell chieftain.

Glynis heard Alex’s deep chuckle as Shaggy looked over his shoulder, evidently expecting the Campbell guards to converge on him.

“Will they kill him?” Glynis asked.

“The Campbells will observe the time-honored tradition of Highland hospitality,” Alex said, “and refrain from murdering Shaggy while he is a guest in their home.”

The Campbell chieftain gave one of the servants a slight nod, and the man guided Shaggy to a seat. While Shaggy looked ill, the Campbell siblings sat at the head table eating and drinking as if nothing was amiss. They were a cold-blooded lot.

“Sorcha is getting restless,” Alex said. “There will be nothing more to see tonight except for watching Shaggy sweat.”

Alex led Glynys out of the narrow corridor and up a back stairway.

“What will the Campbells do about Shaggy?” she asked.

“They’ll bide their time and toy with him,” Alex said. “Shaggy will never know what day they will strike. But one day he’ll be found dead with a dirk in his belly, and everyone will know it was a Campbell who put it there.”

Alex opened a door at the top of the stairs, and Glynis found herself outside the bedchamber she shared with Sorcha and Bessie.

“How is it that ye know about the peepholes and secret passageways in the Campbell stronghold?” she asked.

“People like to tell me secrets,” Alex said.

By people, he meant women. And in this particular instance, Lady Catherine Campbell.

Glynis helped Sorcha get ready for bed, and then Alex sat on the floor beside his daughter’s pallet and told her a long story, easily going back and forth from French to Gaelic. Though Glynis was familiar with the tale, Alex made it more exciting than her father’s
seannachie
ever had.

“She looks like a wee angel,” Glynis said when Sorcha had fallen asleep.

“’Tis early yet,” Alex said with a glint in his eyes that made her nervous.

“Bessie will be up soon,” she said.

Alex shook his head. “I believe your maid has found herself a man.”

“Bessie?” Glynis was shocked. “Ye must be joking.”

“Ye can trust me on that,” Alex said, as he stepped toward her. “We won’t be seeing her for at least a couple of hours.”

Glynis backed up until her heel clunked against the wooden door.

“All the same,” Alex said, as he reached behind her and slid the bar across, “we should make certain we won’t be interrupted.”

“Your daughter is asleep on the floor!”

“That’s what bed curtains are for,” he said. “Come, Glynis, let me take ye behind them and show ye how much I missed ye.”

“Isn’t Catherine waiting for ye?” she asked.

“So ye
are
jealous.” He chuckled deep in his chest. “I suspect Catherine and her brothers will be watching Shaggy for half the night.”

“I see. Ye have some time on your hands, is that it?”

“You’re the only one I’ve asked to be my wife,” he said.

She closed her eyes when he lowered his head and pressed his warm lips to the side of her throat.

“It is you I want, Glynis MacNeil,” he said against her skin. “Don’t send me looking for another wife.”

“I can’t do this,” she said, pushing him away. “We aren’t even wed yet, and ye have another woman expecting ye later.”

“But I don’t want her,” he said. “I want you.”

He looked so sincere that it would be easy to believe him. Still, he had not denied that Catherine was expecting him.

“For how long would ye want me?” she asked. “A week? A month? That won’t do for me.”

“What if I were to give ye my promise that I wouldn’t stray?” he said, sounding pained. “Will ye take me then? Sorcha and I need ye.”

“How could I trust ye?” she asked, though with Alex’s hands running over her, she was sorely tempted to. “Ye told me before that ye didn’t know yourself if ye could be faithful.”

“If I give my word,” he said with steel in his voice, “I’ll keep it.”

She wanted him to be faithful because he wanted no one but her. Ach, she was foolish to want the impossible from Alexander Bàn MacDonald. If he loved her, she might throw her fate to the four winds and hope for the best. But Alex only wished to wed her for the sake of his daughter.

“Please, Glynis,” he said, his voice like a caress across her skin. “Say ye will marry me and come to bed.”