The Sinner (5 page)

This time when Magnus charged him, Alex stepped aside—and stuck his foot out. The Clanranald chieftain crashed to the ground. In an instant, Alex sat astride his opponent’s back and held his head up by his hair. Duncan appeared with a bucket of water and drenched the Clanranald chieftain, who sputtered and coughed.

“Ye can thank me for saving ye from murdering a lass who doesn’t upset ye,” Alex said, still breathing hard. “And by the way, I believe we are cousins of some sort—my mother is a Clanranald.”

“Get off me!”

Alex leaned down to speak in the man’s ear. “Stay away from Glynis MacNeil if ye know what’s good for ye. Next time, I’ll kill ye—and now ye know I can do it.”

Magnus Clanranald was a chieftain and a man of pride. Threatening him was not wise, but it was necessary. Alex left the man with his face in the dirt.

“Let’s go for a swim,” Alex said, as he and Duncan started off the field. “I’d say we’re doing a fine job of following Connor’s orders to make friends among the rebel clans.”

“’Tis good to remind them that we MacDonalds know how to fight,” Duncan said. “Better that they respect us than like us.”

“I did refrain from killing the Clanranald chieftain,” Alex pointed out.

“That was probably a mistake,” Duncan said. “I was watching his clansmen while ye were fighting, and at least half of them were ready to thank ye for doing away with him.”

Glynis ignored Duncan’s order to go inside the keep and stood transfixed watching the fight through the open gate. Apparently, the MacDonald captain of the guard was used to being obeyed, for he left her without a backward glance.

“Ye don’t want to miss this fight!” someone shouted.

People jostled her as they pushed past to go out into the yard. Fortunately, no one seemed to realize the fight had anything to do with her. A large crowd encircled the two men who were clanking swords ferociously up and down the field.

“I don’t blame ye for watching. Alex MacDonald is sinfully handsome.”

Glynis started at the sound of a woman’s deep, rich voice beside her. She turned to find it belonged to the mysterious beauty, Lady Catherine Campbell, who was Shaggy Maclean’s wife. With her wavy dark hair and voluptuous curves, the woman exuded a sensuality that left men gasping. Catherine was every man’s dream—and she knew it.

Next to her, Glynis felt like a doll her father once made for her from sticks and frayed rope.

“Praise God,” Glynis said when Alex and Duncan left Magnus sprawled on the ground.

“I knew Alex would win,” Catherine said. “He has the twin gifts of skill and the devil’s own luck.”

When Magnus started to get up, Glynis picked up her skirts to go inside before he saw her again. But as she turned, the glint of sun hitting metal caught her eye. Magnus was pulling a short blade from his sleeve.

“Alex!” Glynis shouted.

The warning was unnecessary. Alex had read his man well and was already spinning around in a crouch. He moved so fast that it was difficult to tell exactly how he did it, but his boot met Magnus’s hand with such force that the dirk flew into the air.

A moment later, Magnus’s own men caught him under the arms and dragged him away. Attempting to stab another guest in the back was a serious breach of the rules of Highland hospitality.

Alex wiped his brow on his sleeve and headed down toward the water with Duncan. Glynis watched as the two men waded into the sea and dove under. When Alex emerged after his swim with his shirt clinging to his broad chest, and his hair slicked back and hanging to his shoulders, a small moan escaped her.

She had forgotten Catherine was still standing next to her until she spoke again.

“Save yourself some heartache—don’t set your sights on Alex MacDonald,” Catherine said. “You’re not his sort at all.”

“I’ve set my sights on no man,” Glynis said, feeling unreasonably annoyed by the remark. “And what do ye mean, I’m not his sort?”

“Ye may be twenty, but you’re still a girl,” Catherine said with a laugh in her voice. “A man like Alex needs a woman.”

A
lex looked for Glynis when he and Duncan entered the castle, thinking he deserved to collect a kiss from her after that fight. He was ready to risk it—though not in front of her father. But Glynis was not among the crowd congratulating him.

“That was some fine bladework,” Shaggy Maclean said, slapping Alex on his back.

Alex refrained from telling Shaggy to keep his goddamned hands off of him. He hadn’t forgotten Shaggy’s attempt to help Hugh take the chieftainship from Connor.

“I hear the men tested your mettle as well,” Shaggy said, and took his life in his hands by squeezing Duncan’s shoulder. “We need warriors like the two of ye fighting for the rebellion.”

“We’ll discuss it with our chieftain,” Duncan said.

He and Duncan excused themselves to rinse off the salt water from their swim at the well in the castle courtyard. Afterward, Alex climbed the stairs of the keep, looking for an empty chamber where he could stretch out away from the noise in the hall. He should ask his hostess, but he intended to avoid Catherine Campbell for as long as he could.

Alex stripped off his wet clothes and put on the dry shirt he had retrieved from their boat. His muscles ached pleasantly from being worked hard. With a sigh, he lay down on top of the bedclothes.

He had no idea how long he’d been sleeping when he awoke to the delicious sensation of a woman’s fingertips caressing his stomach. He smiled to himself and indulged in the completely inappropriate fantasy that it was Glynis MacNeil running her fingers over his skin.

Ah, that feels good, Glynis.

Long hair tickled his chest, and he imagined her thick chestnut-brown hair sliding over him.
Aye.

It was bound to be a disappointment, but he supposed it was time to find out who this really was. When he slit open his eyes, Catherine Campbell was leaning over him with her hair spilling over his chest.

“I’d been watching for ye,” she said in her husky voice. “And now I’ve found ye.”

She had found him, indeed. Her hand was wrapped around his cock.

Catherine was a gorgeous woman, and he was tempted. God knew, his body was ready. But contrary to what many thought of him, Alex did abide by certain rules.

“I can’t do this, Catherine,” he said. “Not when I’m a guest in your husband’s home.”

“That didn’t trouble ye last time,” she said.

When she started moving her hand up his shaft, he held her wrist—no small act of will.

“I was a prisoner in Shaggy’s dungeon, not his guest,” he said. “The customary rules of courtesy did not apply.”

Catherine gave a throaty laugh. Alex tried hard not to notice that her skirts were hiked up to reveal lovely thighs—or that every time she leaned over him, her even lovelier breasts pressed against the low-cut bodice, as if begging to be released.

“Ye needn’t be concerned about Shaggy because I’m going to leave him,” Catherine said, and Alex’s throat went dry as she ran her hands from the sides of her breasts down to her hips and then the tops of her bare thighs. “Ye see, I need a man who can please me.”

There was nothing Connor would like better than a close connection to the Campbells. And Catherine was clearly suggesting a close connection of some sort.

“But ye haven’t left Shaggy yet,” he said. “So let me get up.”

When she didn’t budge, Alex decided he would have to move her off him, but there seemed no safe place to put his hands.

“Let’s get naked, Alexander.” She leaned against him, pressing her full breasts against his chest, and wound her arms around his neck.

It was not like him to say nay to a beautiful woman who wanted him naked. He made a practice of following the old saying
The oar that is close at hand, row with it
.

With her rubbing against him, his body was in favor of giving in. And yet, he didn’t truly want Catherine. It wasn’t just that bedding the wife of his host was against one of his few principles, or that he felt used—though he did. Catherine wanted to punish her husband. And worse, he suspected she wanted to get caught.

She was a beautiful, willing woman. And yet, Alex couldn’t get rid of her fast enough to suit him. As he sat up he took hold of her waist and lifted her to the floor.
There.

When he stood, Catherine came behind him and put her arms around his waist. Her hands roamed over his chest and hips, and it took him a moment too long to remember why this was a bad idea. By the time he did, she had tugged his shirt over his head.

“Catherine. I told ye I can’t do this.”

When he turned around and took his shirt from her, she pressed herself against him. Ach, Catherine would try a saint. As soon as he peeled her fingers from around his neck, they ended up on his arse.

She felt very,
very
good. As she kissed his chest, he closed his eyes and checked his resolve.

“Ye know ye want me,” she said against his skin.

“Not now, Catherine.” Gently, he pushed her away.

Before she could grab him again, Alex gathered the rest of his clothes from the bench. When he turned and started toward the door, it was already open.
Oh, God, no.

T
he clatter and voices from below grew muffled as Glynis climbed the circular stone stairs. She should find Alex in the hall and thank him for what he did, but she didn’t want to risk seeing Magnus again so soon. When she reached the third floor, she paused, trying to remember which bedchamber the Macleans usually set aside for the visiting women of high rank.

Since everyone else was in the hall for the midday meal, she didn’t have to worry about disturbing anyone, so she opened the door to her right. Glynis took one step inside and froze. Somewhere deep in the back of her mind, a voice was telling her to
get out
. But her feet would not obey.

Alexander Bàn MacDonald stood with his back to the door—and not a stitch on him. How she knew it was him from the back was a question she’d ask herself later. But one look at the blond hair, the broad shoulders, the long, muscular legs, and that perfect, manly arse, and Glynis knew for certain that this naked man was Alex.

A woman’s fingers were laced at the back of his neck. Glynis still could not move—her hand held the door latch as if melded to it. She forced her gaze to the floor, but there was nothing she could do to slow her heartbeat. When the woman gave a throaty laugh, Glynis could not help looking up again.

She could not breathe. The woman had her hands on Alex’s bare backside. Glynis imagined how his muscles would feel beneath her fingers.

“Not now, Catherine.” Alex’s voice penetrated her daze.

Glynis had to leave before Alex saw her. And still, she felt as if her feet were nailed to the floor.

Alex turned.

Ach, it was a sin for a man to be so tall and handsome. It wasn’t fair at all. Her eyes skimmed over him, slowly moving from his damp blond hair and striking face to his broad chest. She longed to feel the rough hair and hard muscles beneath her palms. And then her gaze fell lower still.

Her mouth fell open, and she felt an odd squeeze inside her as she stared at his fully erect shaft. Suddenly, she realized what she was doing, and she jerked her gaze back up to his face.

Alex had halted where he was. A dark smile played over his lips.

“Glynis.” He spoke her name slowly, as if tasting each letter. His voice was thick honey, golden like the rest of him.

Glynis was so bewitched that she had forgotten there was someone else in the room. When the woman came out from behind Alex and slipped her arm around his waist, Alex looked as startled as Glynis was.

The woman was Catherine Campbell, the Maclean chieftain’s wife. With her shining black hair tousled, her gown loosened to reveal the tops of her generous breasts, and her eyes dark with desire, she was breathtaking.

Alex called Glynis’s name as she ran down the stairs. His voice echoed off the stone walls and inside her head, but she did not stop. She ran out of the keep, across the yard, and out the gate. Only after she scrambled down to the shore did she finally stop. She sat on a rock and pressed her palm to her chest, trying to get her breath back. Her hands shook, and her heart pounded as if it would burst.

Why was she so upset? She hardly knew Alex MacDonald. And from what she did know about him, she shouldn’t have been surprised to find him in bed with a woman. Still, it had been a shock to see the pair of them like that. She covered her face, remembering how she had stared at him naked. Ach, she had stared at his manly parts! How could she?

Of course, it would be the most beautiful woman in all the Highlands who was in bed with Alex. But his host’s wife? Foolish, but Glynis had thought better of him than that.

Alex tried to find Glynis as soon as he had untangled himself from Catherine. Why he felt the need to explain himself to Glynis, he did not know. But for some reason, it was important to him that she not think he was even worse than he actually was.

He still hadn’t seen Glynis when he and Duncan entered the hall for supper. He scanned the room for her. He didn’t have much time left—he was leaving for Edinburgh in the morning.

“Who are ye looking for?” Duncan asked.

“No one,” Alex said.

“Hmmph,” Duncan grunted, but he let it pass. “These rebels are up to something. Donald Gallda and the other chieftains met this afternoon without any of their men present.”

Donald Gallda MacDonald of Lachalsh was the latest MacDonald to take up the leadership of the rebellion. The king had taken him to be raised in the Lowlands after his father’s rebellion, which was the reason Highlanders called him Donald
Gallda
, the Stranger.

“Let’s split up and see what we can find out,” Alex said.

“I’ll see if that drunken lot knows anything,” Duncan said with a nod toward a table of Maclean warriors. “I assume you’ll talk with the MacNeils.”

Before Alex could ask Duncan what he meant by that remark, Duncan was gone.

Alex found the MacNeil chieftain near the hearth. Judging from his hearty greeting, the man had forgiven Alex for that kiss on the beach.

“I have a warning for ye,” the MacNeil said below the noise of the hall. “No one but the chieftains is to know ahead of time, but we’re attacking Mingary Castle tomorrow.”

“That’s poking a stick in the hornet’s nest.” Mingary was held by the MacIains, who were close allies of the Crown. The Crown would be up in arms over this, which made it all the more important for Alex to get to Edinburgh to reassure the regent.

“If ye don’t want to be part of it, be gone by morning.” The MacNeil glanced about to be sure no one was listening. “They intend to give you and Duncan the choice to fight with us or be the first to die in the battle.”

If Connor’s close cousin and the captain of his guard participated in the attack, the Crown’s allies would hear of it, and their clan would be committed to the rebellion.

“The sly dogs.” Alex should have expected it.

“I don’t agree with forcing a chieftain’s hand like that,” the MacNeil said. “But after the others saw ye fight, they were determined to see ye on the right side or dead.”

“I appreciate the warning.” They would all have to leave tonight, he to Edinburgh, and Duncan and the rest of their men to Skye.

“Being Highlanders, these other chieftains will be all the more impressed if ye succeed in sneaking out of here under their noses,” the MacNeil said, and they both laughed.

“They’ll never hear us leave,” Alex said with a wink. He was anxious to talk with Duncan, but that would have to wait until after the meal. “Shall we find your daughter and sit down?”

“She’s sitting at the high table tonight.”

Alex turned and saw Glynis was indeed at the high table, sitting next to the weasel with the weedy beard. “Who is that?”

“Shaggy’s second son, Alain.” The MacNeil elbowed him. “He would be a good match for my Glynis.”

“
Him?
” Alex stared at the pair at the head table for a long moment, trying to decide if the MacNeil chieftain was having a joke on him.

“Aye,” the MacNeil said, nodding. “Alain is a chieftain’s son from a strong clan that supports the rebellion, and she’s known him all her life.”

“He’s not a man I would trust,” Alex said.

For a brief moment, Glynis met his eyes. But when Alex smiled and nodded, she turned her head.

“And you are?” MacNeil asked him.

“Are what?” Alex asked, with his gaze still on Glynis.

“A man to be trusted.”

That got his attention. Alex knew exactly what the MacNeil chieftain was asking him. He heard his mother’s voice in his head, as if she were standing right next to him.
Ye will be just like your father!

And Alex had turned out to be like his father. He enjoyed women, though never the same one for long. But in one regard, Alex was determined to be different from his father. He would not make the mistake of marrying a good woman and causing her to hate him.

“Your daughter would have her dirk in me in no time,” Alex said. “And I’d deserve it.”

“Alain will do,” the MacNeil chieftain said. “Of course, I’d prefer that she and Magnus Clanranald patched up their differences.”

Alex spun around to stare at him. “Ye can’t mean it,” he said, struggling to keep his voice low. “Magnus is a vile man—and he’s a danger to her.”

“Ach,” MacNeil said, dismissing this with a wave of his hand. “They got off to a bad start. A little time is all they need—and a babe, of course. A babe would solve the problem. Ye can’t blame Magnus for wanting an heir. Every man does.”

He’d send her back to Magnus? Alex wanted to pound the MacNeil’s thick head on the table, but knocking sense into the man was clearly a hopeless task.

Alex drank down his ale, wishing to God that Shaggy served whiskey instead.

The bar across the door creaked as Glynis slid it back. Over the pounding in her ears, she heard one of the women on the bed behind her sigh. Her hands shook as she waited for the woman to call out to her.

There was a rustle of bedclothes, and she held her breath, waiting. Silence settled over the room again. Moving as quickly as she dared in the blackness, Glynis picked up the cloth bag she had left beside the door, lifted her cloak from the peg, and slipped out.

Panic surged through her limbs as a large hand covered her mouth.