The Sinner (17 page)

P
oor 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?

Glynis sat back down next to Sorcha and combed the child’s windblown hair with her fingers. When Sorcha smiled at her, she was reminded that the marriage did have its good side. It brought her motherhood, a precious gift she had thought she would be denied. And Alex did not constantly criticize her and expect her to be other than what she was, as both Magnus and her stepmother had. He would protect her with his life, no doubt of that.

But Alex was bound to break her heart. When Magnus took other women, it had hurt her pride, but that was all. It would be different with Alex. When they lay together, he not only gave her pleasure—though there was plenty of that, to be sure—he showed her parts of herself she had not known before. After what they had shared, she could not bear to know he was going to another woman’s bed.

Because she loved him. God help her.

When Alex turned his sea-green eyes on her, the laughter left his face, and her heart sank. He gave the rudder to one of the other men, crossed the boat to sit beside her, and took Sorcha into his lap.

“The land to our right is the Sleat Peninsula of Skye.” Alex rested his hand on Glynis’s shoulder and tilted his head down to hers as he pointed. “And the castle ye see there is Dunscaith, my chieftain’s castle.”

Glynis’s body felt pulled to his. She longed to lean into him—but she did not.

“Dunscaith got its name from Scáthach, the warrior queen who had her legendary school of heroes on the verra spot where our chieftain’s castle now stands,” Alex said, speaking first in French for Sorcha and then in Gaelic. “Those mountains ye see beyond the castle are the Cuillins, which are named for Cúchulainn, the most famous of the heroes Scáthach trained.”

Glynis could not help smiling, for she recognized the start of one of his stories. She added Alex’s storytelling to her list of good things that the marriage brought her.

“Now, Scáthach would only train the bravest and most skilled young warriors. To prove himself worthy, a man first had to penetrate her fortress, which had many defenses, including magical ones. Cúchulainn traveled here from Ireland as a young man, after the father of the lass he loved said he would only agree to their marriage if Cúchulainn was trained as a warrior by Scáthach.

“Young Cúchulainn succeeded in getting inside the castle and was accepted by the warrior queen. Later, as part of his training, he helped Scáthach subdue a neighboring female chieftain who was causing Scáthach trouble. In the process of fulfilling this task, Cúchulainn had a child with the woman. And though his heart was always with the young lass he loved back in Ireland, he also became friendly with Scáthach’s daughter. Unfortunately, he had to kill the daughter’s husband in a duel, which I’m sure he regretted. I believe it was after the daughter that Cúchulainn became friendly with Scáthach herself.”

“What kind of story is this to tell to a wee girl?” Glynis interrupted.

“I can’t change the story,” Alex said, lifting his shoulders. “’Tis the legend of our castle.”

“The MacDonalds would have legends of philanderers and call them heroes,” Glynis said, folding her arms.

“Cúchulainn was no a married man at the time.” Alex cleared his throat and began again. “When Cúchulainn returned to Ireland, the lass’s father refused to let them marry, although Cúchulainn had fulfilled the condition. Ye see, the father never intended to allow the marriage and believed he had set an impossible condition. Well, that was a mistake for certain. Cúchulainn captured the father’s fortress, took the man’s treasure—and his life—and then he married his love.”

Glynis had been lost in the story and was startled when Alex stopped speaking. They were close enough to Dunscaith now that she could see the guards on the walls.

“I’ll tell ye more stories about Scáthach and Cúchulainn later,” Alex said to Sorcha. “But now, it’s time for ye to meet the Clan MacDonald.”

As the boat pulled beside the sea gate, Glynis stood to thank the Campbell men. They were anxious to return to their homes and had refused Alex’s offer of hospitality. One of them, however, insisted on carrying Bessie into the castle, as she was still quite ill from the journey.

Alex picked Sorcha up in one arm and held his other hand out to Glynis. When she looked into his grim face, her heart sank lower still.

“Don’t fret. They never thought I’d find a woman willing to put up with me,” Alex said, but his humor seemed forced. “They will all be verra pleased to see ye.”

If only Alex were pleased himself, she wouldn’t care about the rest of the MacDonalds. She felt as if she were a weight tied around his neck.

No sooner had they climbed up the steep stairs into the castle courtyard than Glynis was surrounded by MacDonalds. It seemed to her that all the MacDonald men were extraordinarily tall. She had to tilt her head back to breathe.

In the midst of this sea of strangers, she saw Duncan walking toward them. He nodded at her, and the corners of his mouth went up a fraction in what she took for a smile. On either side of Duncan were two dark-haired, handsome warriors who looked to be brothers.

“Come meet my cousins,” Alex said, pushing her forward with his hand at her back.

Before Alex could introduce her and Sorcha, Glynis heard a familiar bellow come from behind the gathered men. “Alexander Bàn MacDonald!”

Glynis put her hand to her forehead. Nay. That could not be her father.

“Alexander Bàn MacDonald!” This time, the roar cleared a path through the MacDonald warriors like Moses parting the Red Sea—and at the other end of it stood her father. As he strode toward them, Alex set Sorcha down behind him and took Glynis’s hand.

“After stealing my daughter from under my nose and dragging her to God knows where for weeks,” her father shouted, all red in the face, “ye will either be my son-in-law before the day is out, or you’ll be a dead man!”

Glynis flushed to her roots. Why was her father doing this?

“Da, Alex did no—,” she started to explain, but Alex cut her off.

“I beg your forgiveness for stealing your daughter from ye,” Alex said, putting his hand over his heart. “But sometimes a man must act boldly to get the woman he wants.”

Alex was taking the blame for all of this. She might have appreciated the gesture if he’d done it out of affection for her, rather than manly pride.

“I believe ye are aware that your daughter was… disinclined toward marriage,” Alex continued. “So I had no choice but to force her hand by kidnapping her.”

Ach, her father could not have looked more pleased. She felt like a hog caught between two cooks.

“I succeeded in persuading her to take me as her husband,” Alex said, “and we have made a marriage pledge to each other.”

“An alleged hand-fasting with just the two of ye under the stars will not do,” her father said, planting his hands on his hips. “Glynis is a chieftain’s daughter, no a penniless lass. Ye will do this proper, Alexander MacDonald, with a contract, a
tochar
, and pledges made before both clan chieftains.”

“That is precisely my desire as well, sir,” Alex said.

The two of them were having a fine time trying to outdo the other in their resolve to have her good and properly bound in marriage. Each had his reasons, which had nothing to do with her feelings on the matter.

“The MacDonald chieftain and I have already worked out the agreement,” her father said.

How did her father know she would be returning with Alex, when she herself had no idea? And, by the saints, how long had her father been waiting here? He should have gone home and pretended nothing was amiss. Ach, it was humiliating.

“I’ve been waiting here for weeks,” her father said, confirming her worst fear. “Let’s get this wedding under way!”

One of the two handsome, dark-haired warriors with Duncan stepped forward. “A thousand welcomes to you, Glynis, daughter of Gilleonan MacNeil of Barra,” he said. “I am Connor, chieftain of the MacDonalds of Sleat, and I am most happy to have ye here at Dunscaith Castle.”

After her father’s shouting, she appreciated the chieftain’s formal greeting and replied in kind. “A blessing on the house of the grandson of Hugh MacDonald and great-grandson of the Lord of the Isles.”

The chieftain gestured toward the other dark-haired warrior, who had the bluest eyes Glynis had ever seen. “This is Ian, who is my cousin as well as Alex’s.”

She was introduced in quick succession to a few dozen MacDonalds and then greeted by the few MacNeil men who were here with her father. Her head was spinning when two women had mercy on her and interrupted the greetings. One was small and brisk and dressed in a gown too large for her slender figure, and the other was a lovely redhead who carried two look-alike babes in her arms.

“Come with us.” The small woman smiled as she put her hand at Glynis’s back and took Sorcha’s hand. “I have a chamber ready for ye upstairs. I’ve already seen to your maid, the poor dear.”

Glynis let the two women lead her and Sorcha inside the keep and up the stairs to a tidy bedchamber that smelled of heather.

“We thought ye needed rescuing,” the redhead said, giving Glynis a wide smile. “I’m Sìleas, Ian’s wife.”

“And I’m Ilysa, Duncan’s sister,” the other woman said. “I’ve sent someone to bring up a bit of food and drink. If ye need anything at all, you’ve only to ask.”

Glynis was puzzled as to why Duncan’s sister appeared to be managing the chieftain’s household, but perhaps the chieftain had no close female relative to fill the role in lieu of a wife. It was odd that he didn’t have a wife, though, for a chieftain had an even greater duty than other men to produce heirs.

“Ye know from my father that I’m Glynis,” she said. “And this is Sorcha, Alex’s daughter.”

“I knew ye were Alex’s child the moment I saw ye, Sorcha,” Sìleas said with a soft smile.

Sorcha could not take her eyes off the twins and took a couple of cautious steps toward them.

“This one is Beitris,” Sìleas said, tilting her head toward one of the look-alike babes. “And this one is Alexandra, named for your father.”

When Alexandra grabbed hold of Sorcha’s nose, both babes squealed in delight at her mischief—and Sorcha laughed. Glynis put her hand to her chest. Hearing Sorcha laugh for the first time felt like a small miracle.

“I’m glad Alex found ye,” Ilysa said, after they had talked about the babes for a time. “Frankly, none of us was certain he would show such good judgment.”

“I happened to be the closest woman at hand when he needed a wife,” Glynis said. Realizing she had said too much, she tried to make light of it. “
An ràmh is fhaisg air làimh, iomair leis.
” The oar that is close at hand, row with it.

“Alex has never had trouble finding women, so I’m sure that wasn’t the reason,” Sìleas said. “Now we’d best get ye ready, for I believe they intend to have this wedding tonight.”

Tonight?

G
lynis felt ill. Her stomach hurt, her head throbbed, and dread weighed down on her chest, making it hard to breathe. Although Sìleas and Ilysa were kindness itself, their glowing faces only made Glynis feel worse.

Every time one of them mentioned how delighted they were that Alex had chosen a bride who was so different from “his usual sort,” she wondered how long it would be before he went back to his usual ways and his usual sort.

Bang, bang, bang.
Ach, Glynis knew that knock.

“It’s my father.” She jumped to her feet to get to the door first and then slipped outside so that they could speak in private.

“Ye had me worried, lass.” Her father lifted her off her feet in a crushing embrace. That raised her spirits—until he set her back down and said, “Praise God he’s marrying ye. I feared I’d have to kill him.”

“It didn’t happen like ye think, da,” she said. “Alex doesn’t really want me.”

“Ach, that man wants ye,” her father said. “He has since he first saw ye on the beach at Barra.”

She sighed. “What I mean, da, is that he doesn’t want me for
a wife
. Not truly.”

Her father lifted her chin. “I know I made a mistake with Magnus Clanranald.”

This was the first he had admitted that.

“But Alex sees ye for what ye are, and he likes what he sees,” her father said. “This man is going to love ye, whether he wants to or no.”

Glynis swallowed against the lump in her throat. Even if her father could not be more wrong, it warmed her heart to know that he wanted this for her.

“How did ye know it was Alex I left with?” she asked.

“I watched the two of ye, and I figured ye just needed some time together for this to happen,” he said. “So I let ye both believe I was going to make ye wed that Alain Maclean, though he is even madder than his father Shaggy.”

“Ye did that on purpose?”

“Aye,” her father said, grinning from ear to ear.

She couldn’t believe it! Despite all her efforts to thwart her father’s plans for her—from putting her fate in the hands of a stranger to traveling all the way to Edinburgh—she had ended up doing exactly what he wanted.

“I went home to Barra before coming here to wait for ye,” he said before she could gather herself to shout at him. He stooped to reach into a cloth bag at his feet and pulled a soft blue gown from it. “Your stepmother made ye a new gown to be wed in.”

“It’s lovely!” Glynis said, holding it up. “That was kind of her, truly. Oh, da, I wish I could see the rest of the family.”

“They all miss ye,” her father said. “Tell that new husband of yours to bring ye for a long visit soon.”

Glynis prayed she would not be coming home alone and in shame again.

Alex stood at the front of the hall, flanked by Connor and Duncan on one side and by the MacNeil chieftain and Ian on the other, waiting for his bride to make her appearance. And waiting. When Glynis’s father took a step, looking as if he meant to fetch her and drag her down the stairs by her hair, Alex grabbed his arm in an iron grip.

“Give her time.” Alex locked eyes with her father and did not let go of him until the chieftain nodded and stepped back.

When the voices in the hall hushed, Alex turned and sucked in his breath at the sight of Glynis at the far end of the hall. She wore a soft blue gown that drew attention to her slender, elegant figure and flowed about her as she walked. With her rich brown hair pulled up in a crown of flowers and ribbons, and then cascading down her back, she looked like a wood nymph come from the forest to enchant him.

But beneath her crown of flowers, Glynis’s face was strained. Her wide gray eyes had the same look of panic Alex had seen in a wounded doe’s as it lay on the ground with an arrow in its side. Glynis hesitated at every step, looking as if she might bolt if someone made a loud noise. It seemed to take her forever to cross the length of the hall. Finally, she stood before him.

Glynis had not changed her mind. But it had been close.

Alex was breathtakingly handsome, tall and striking in his saffron shirt and plaid with greens that matched his eyes. Most of the people gathered in the hall—particularly her own clansmen—must be wondering how such a skinny, difficult lass had come to be the one that Alex chose to wed.

Glynis darted glances left and right as she traversed the endless hall, a different question dragging her steps. How many women in the room had Alex slept with? Two? Three? A dozen?

“Ye look beautiful,” Alex said, playing the part of bridegroom, when she finally reached the end of the gauntlet. “I believe we sign the contract first.”

By
we
, he meant her father, of course. All the same, Alex took her with him to the small table where the contract had been laid out. She had learned to read, but she was too overwrought to make sense of any of the words.

“Is it acceptable to ye?” Alex asked, which was kind, but pointless, since her father had already signed it.

She could not get a word through her throat, so she nodded. When Alex signed, his signature was big and bold with a flare, just like he was. She felt like a skinny, brown mouse next to him.

After she and Alex returned to their places, the two chieftains made speeches about a glorious union, fertility, and such. She saw no priest, so it appeared Alex had not succeeded in finding one on short notice. Glynis ignored the speeches and closed her eyes to say her own prayer.

Please, God, give me a few months with him before he breaks my heart.

“Glynis!” When she heard her father say her name, she opened her eyes to find both chieftains staring at her. “Say your pledge,” her father hissed.

Her heart hammered so loudly she thought they must hear it.

“I…” Her throat was too dry, and she had to stop to swallow. It took her three tries, but she got the words out. She fixed her gaze on the floor as she waited for Alex to say his vows.

He was silent. The longer Alex did not speak, the more his silence seemed to expand and fill the hall. When Glynis risked a sideways glance at him, he was staring at her with a fiercely grim expression on his face.

Alex grabbed her by the wrist. She had to struggle to keep her feet under her as he proceeded to haul her out of the hall with his long-legged strides.

“
O shluagh!
” she whispered. What had she done to deserve this?