The Sinner Read online

  Sorcha hid behind Bessie’s skirts when she saw the black-eyed woman coming toward them. Sometimes the woman looked at Sorcha like a mean dog that bites.

  “You can go,” the woman said to Bessie. “I’ll take her to her father.”

  “The mistress told me… ,” Bessie started to say, but her voice faded.

  Sorcha understood how words could get stuck inside you.

  Bessie left them with a long look over her shoulder. When the woman took Sorcha’s wrist, Sorcha tried to pull away, but the woman gave her that mean-dog look.

  “Don’t fuss,” the woman snapped, and started dragging her down the path.

  Sorcha wanted to call out for her father or Glynis, but her throat was closed tight.

  “Do ye understand a word I say? Ach, how did a clever man like Alex sire an idiot?”

  The woman’s voice was like her eyes, full of jagged teeth.

  “The man dotes on ye like a pet,” she said. “I can’t have my husband putting his idiot child before me and the children of Campbell blood that I intend to give him.”

  CHAPTER 30

  Glynis stared out the bedchamber window at the distant hills as she brushed her hair. Like a child, she had spent the entire afternoon in here to avoid seeing either Alex or D’Arcy before she made up her mind. Although she knew it would be the sensible thing to do, she could not quite convince herself to give D’Arcy permission to approach her father to negotiate a marriage contract.

  From the corner of her eye, Glynis caught a flash of hair the color of moonbeams. She stepped closer to the narrow window for a better look.

  What was Catherine Campbell doing leading Sorcha down the path that ran along the loch? The child missed Rosebud and Buttercup, as they all did, so Glynis had sent her with Bessie to see if Alex could take her for one last ride before the horses’ owners came to claim them. Alex must have let Catherine take Sorcha for a walk instead.

  This was a ploy of Catherine’s to win Alex, for the woman did not like the child. Glynis had seen how Catherine looked at Sorcha when Alex was not watching. To be charitable, perhaps Catherine was attempting to forge a bond with the child.

  But there was something about the determined way Catherine was walking that made the hairs on the back of Glynis’s neck stand up. And the child was dragging her feet. When Glynis saw how Sorcha kept glancing over her shoulder, she dropped her brush and flew out the door.

  She was probably being foolish, but fear pulsed through her veins, urging her feet faster. When she reached the hall, she forced herself to slow to a fast walk and took care not to meet anyone’s eyes, lest they try to speak with her. She could not see Sorcha and Catherine when she stepped out of the doors of the keep. Sweat broke out on her palms.

  As soon as she reached the bottom of the keep steps, Glynis picked up her skirts and ran across the castle yard, through the gate, and down to the loch. She continued running along the path that disappeared into the tall brush by the loch. Though she had no reason to suspect Catherine would harm the child, Glynis could not talk herself out of her fear. She ran faster, heedless of the briars that tugged at her gown. Branches slashed at her arms and face.

  When she reached a split in the path, she paused, heart racing. One fork went up the hill, while the other continued through the thicker vegetation along the shoreline. She took the shoreline path, instinct telling her the greater danger lay in that direction.

  When she still did not see them, panic pounded through her veins. Had she taken the wrong fork? She started to turn around when she thought she heard something.

  Glynis paused to listen. At first she could hear nothing over the thundering of her heart. But then, she heard it again. A child’s whimper.

  “Your father will be disappointed,” she heard a woman’s voice, cajoling, “when I tell him ye are afraid of the water.”

  Sorcha did not fear the water—Glynis had never seen a child less afraid of it.

  Glynis left the path and pushed her way through the brush to the edge of the loch. The sight that met her should have been a peaceful image: a beautiful dark-haired woman leading a fair-haired child out for a swim in a quiet loch on a golden afternoon.

  The water was up to Sorcha’s chest. Instead of splashing and playing in the water as she did when Alex took her swimming, her slight body was stiff. Catherine was pulling on her arm.

  “Can I join ye?” Glynis called out, as she pushed her way through the last of the bushes. “There’s nothing I like better than a swim in the late afternoon.”

  When Catherine looked up, Glynis pretended not to notice her furious expression and gave her a bright smile. But her heart turned in her chest when she saw that Sorcha’s eyes were brimming with unshed tears.

  “Oh dear,” Glynis said, looking about her as if she were dimwitted, “it looks as if ye forgot to bring dry clothes.”

  “A maid is following with them,” Catherine said. “I don’t know what’s keeping her.”

  “Ach, maids,” Glynis said, shaking her head. “It appears she has forgotten, so you’d best come in. Alex MacDonald is verra protective of his wee daughter, and he won’t be pleased if she catches cold.”

  Catherine looked down at Sorcha. “I’ll bring ye back another day, I promise.”

  As soon as Catherine released Sorcha’s wrist, the child ran out of the water and straight into Glynis’s arms.

  “Such a fearful child,” Catherine said. “Ye can tell she was not born a Highlander.”

  A murderous rage pounded through Glynis. But while in the heart of the Campbell stronghold, it would not pay to call the chieftain’s sister the liar that she was.

  Pretending nothing had happened while she walked beside Catherine and held the shaking child in her arms was one of the hardest things Glynis had ever done. If she had not left her dirk in the bedchamber, Catherine’s dead body might well have been found on the path later that day.

  Clearly, Catherine had decided she wanted Alex—and not his child.

  “As ye say, Sorcha was not born a Highlander,” Glynis said. “I fear she will have a difficult time adjusting to Alexander MacDonald’s home. ’Tis a lonely, desolate place.”

  Of course, Glynis had never been there. If she could dissuade Catherine from pursuing Alex, however, Sorcha would be safe from her.

  “What is Alex’s home like?” Catherine asked.

  “It sits on a high cliff facing north over the sea, where the wind is always blowing.” Glynis shuddered. “They don’t get many visitors there. Ye could go weeks without seeing a soul outside the household.”

  Catherine frowned. “How many are in the household?”

  “I fear the family has hit on hard times,” Glynis said, and shook her head.

  “But Alexander’s cousin is chieftain, and he holds Alex in high esteem.”

  “That is true enough, but the chieftain must keep all his warriors at his own castle, Dunscaith,” Glynis said. “Unfortunately, he can offer little help when pirates attack, as they frequently do. And then, of course, there are the MacLeods.”

  “Ach, you’re just jealous,” Catherine said, a smile curving her lips. “I’ve seen how ye look at Alexander.”

  Damn, Glynis was never good at lying. What else could she do to protect the child? If she told Alex what she’d seen, he would not believe Catherine intended to murder the child. And she could not blame him, for no one would. And yet, Glynis had never been more certain of anything in her life.

  Glynis kept her gaze fixed ahead as she marched along the path. Her skin itched from the child’s damp heat soaking through the front of her gown. Though her arms grew weary, she held Sorcha tight against her. When they reached the fork in the path, Catherine stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

  “Let go of me,” Glynis said, her façade breaking.

  “I’m doing ye a favor, Glynis, for we both know ye couldn’t keep a man like Alex satisfied,” Catherine said with her cat’s smile. “He’ll be in my bed tonight—and he won’t want
to leave it.”

  With that, Catherine turned and started up the fork that climbed the hill, her wet gown clinging to every curve.

  Glynis understood why Shaggy had left the woman on a tidal rock.

  * * *

  Alex was in a foul mood as he waited for the guards to admit him into the Campbell chieftain’s private chamber. By now, D’Arcy would have told Glynis of his true intentions. Alex had put off visiting his daughter because he didn’t want to find Glynis weeping her eyes out over the Frenchman.

  “The chieftain is ready for ye,” one of the guards said. “I’ll take your weapons.”

  The Campbell chieftain had hundreds of warriors at his command and far more guards protecting his person than the regent had. Parting with his claymore and dirks worsened Alex’s mood. He never felt right without his weapons close to hand.

  Inside the chamber, the Campbell chieftain and his brother John, the Thane of Cawdor, sat on ornately carved chairs with rich tapestries hanging on the wall behind them. Alex needed to keep his wits about him. This pair had proven they were crafty enough to hold on to power in the ever-changing currents of royal and clan politics.

  The Campbell chieftain waved for his guards to leave the room, a symbolic gesture of trust. Unlike Alex, the two Campbells wore their weapons.

  “My sister Catherine tells me you are the one who saved her from drowning,” the chieftain said when Alex had sat down in the single chair opposite them.

  “’Twas fortunate I was there to offer assistance,” Alex said.

  “We’re no pleased that ye stole horses from our men,” John, the Thane of Cawdor, said. “But we are impressed.”

  “I only borrowed them,” Alex said.

  “Someone murdered the Campbell fishermen ye met.” The chieftain’s black eyes burned bright with anger. “One of them lived long enough to tell us it wasn’t you.”

  That was lucky.

  “D’Arcy tells me ye had some difficulty with our new regent,” the chieftain said.

  “Difficulty? Ach, the regent liked me so well he wanted to keep me as a permanent guest,” Alex said, and the two Campbells laughed.

  “I like to discharge my debts,” the chieftain said. “I’ll make certain the MacDonalds of Sleat are not falsely accused of being traitorous rebels.”

  “I appreciate that,” Alex said, and the chieftain nodded, accepting his due. Now for the difficult part. “As ye know, the Western Isles are swarming with rebels. By not joining them, my clan risks being attacked. For us to take the Crown’s side in this fight, we need a strong ally.”

  The Campbell chieftain nodded and folded his hands. “That would be wise.”

  “A marriage alliance is one means of binding our clans in friendship,” John said. “Once this matter with Shaggy Maclean is settled, our sister will be free to remarry.”

  Sweat rolled down Alex’s back. He hoped they were not suggesting what he thought they were.

  “I don’t have the authority to agree to a marriage on my chieftain’s behalf,” Alex said and hardly felt guilty for throwing Connor to the wolves.

  “Catherine seems to favor you,” John said.

  “Ach, I’m no more than a chieftain’s cousin.” Alex’s head was pounding. Now that the offer was being made, he was suddenly very certain he did not want to marry Catherine. “I’m sure ye will want someone more important.”

  “After the marriage I arranged for her nearly ended in her death,” the chieftain said, “I’m inclined to let Catherine have her way this time.”

  O shluagh! Alex silently pleaded for help from the fairies.

  “Your sister is as fair a lass as ever graced the Highlands,” Alex said, “but I’ve already asked another to be my wife.” Though Glynis had refused him, he did ask.

  “That pretty MacNeil lass?” John asked.

  “Aye, and I’ve already bedded her,” Alex said. Under Highland custom, a promise to marry followed by a bedding made you as good as wed. Alex wasn’t telling them that the bedding had come before, and not after the promise. “I intend to negotiate the marriage contract with her father when we return.”

  “I wish ye well,” John said, “but I suggest ye hide your wife’s dirk.”

  Alex forced a laugh, though he did not find the remark amusing.

  “I believe my chieftain would be honored to enter into an agreement of manrent, instead.” Alex was suggesting an agreement under which his clan would have the protection of the powerful Campbells in exchange for sending warriors when the Campbells called on them.

  “Tell your chieftain I’m agreeable to it,” the Campbell said. “I understand he has his own troubles to deal with now, but I’ll expect him to come with his warriors when I need them.”

  Alex could go home now, knowing he had accomplished the best he could for his clan. Of course, they could count on the Campbells only so long as their interests coincided. The Campbells looked out for the Campbells, first, last, and always. But for the time being, the Campbells would mind their backs vis-à-vis both the Crown and the other clans. That would free them to turn their attention to subduing the pirates on North Uist.

  Glynis could ruin it all. If she did not become Alex’s wife in the very near future, the Campbell chieftain would take offense over Alex’s refusal of his sister. And the only way to fix that would be to marry Catherine.

  Alex was in a grim mood when he knocked on Glynis’s bedchamber door.

  “Where are they?” he demanded when he found only Bessie there.

  “I don’t know where Mistress Glynis is, but I thought Sorcha was with you.”

  “With me?”

  “Aye, Lady Catherine said she would take Sorcha to ye,” Bessie said. “As the two of ye seemed uncommonly friendly, I didn’t think ye would want me to tell her nay…”

  “If your mistress had agreed to marry me, then I wouldn’t need to be uncommonly friendly in pursuit of another wife!”

  Alex turned on his heel and stormed off, though it was not like him to be so irritable. After searching all the common areas of the castle without finding Glynis, Sorcha, or Catherine, he went up to the walkway that ran along the top of on the castle’s wall to see if he could spot them from there.

  He was pacing back and forth, annoying the guards, when he saw Glynis emerge from the path that skirted the loch. He saw at once that something was amiss. Her hair was loose, and she was swaying with the weight of something she was clutching against her chest. An instant later, he realized that the burden she carried was Sorcha.

  Alex ran down the wall steps two at a time. He was across the yard and through the gate before Glynis reached the castle. When he saw that his daughter’s clothes were wet and her hair hung in wet clumps down her back, his stomach dropped to his feet.

  “What happened?” He tried to lift her from Glynis’s arms, but Sorcha clung to her like a monkey.

  “Sorcha had a bad fright in the water,” Glynis said, “but she is unharmed.”

  He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. How did Ian survive with two daughters? Alex supposed that with practice not every spill his daughter took would take a year off his life.

  “I’ve changed my mind,” Glynis said, and she had the fiercest look in her eyes.

  “Changed your mind about what?” he asked.

  “If ye still want me, I’m ready to wed ye.”

  CHAPTER 31

  Truly, Glynis was the most surprising woman. Just when Alex thought she would never agree to wed him, she decided she would, with no persuasion. This was what he wanted. And yet, he did not feel much relieved.

  Why would she change her mind so suddenly? Alex considered the question as he waited outside the bedchamber while Sorcha and Glynis changed out of their wet clothes. Perhaps Sorcha’s little mishap, whatever it was, made Glynis realize how attached she was to the child.

  More likely, it was because D’Arcy had told her that his offer was to be his mistress. It grated on Alex to know that Glynis had finally agreed to wed
him in the wake of her disappointment over D’Arcy.

  Glynis came out of the bedchamber and closed the door softly behind her. “Sorcha needs a rest. Bessie will stay with her.”

  “Good,” he said, grabbing her wrist. “We need to talk.”

  He pulled her up the stairs to the chamber above, which was unoccupied. After sliding the bar across the door, he turned to face her.

  “What do ye want, Glynis?”

  “I want to marry ye,” Glynis said. “Do ye still want me?”

  “I do,” Alex said, though he would be considerably happier about it if he thought her reasons for changing her mind had anything to do with him.

  “I do have conditions,” Glynis said.

  “Why does this no surprise me?” He folded his arms and narrowed his eyes at her. “And what might these conditions be?”

  “The first is that we leave Inveraray Castle at once.”

  “I must bid farewell to the chieftain and his family,” Alex said. “But we can be gone in an hour’s time.”

  Her shoulders relaxed a bit. Evidently, she was desperate to get away from D’Arcy and put that disappointment behind her.

  “What else?” he asked, keeping his voice even.

  Her face was strained, and she could not look him in the eye. Whatever this second condition was, it was difficult for her to say it.

  And he was certain he would not like it.

  “I will no share your bed.”

  What? If there was one thing he had been confident of, it was that he pleased her under the blankets. Did she dislike him so much that she would give up the pleasure they shared in bed?

  “If all I wanted was a nursemaid, I would hire one. And I believe the chances are good that I could find a pretty one and bed her as well.” He added the last part because he was angry. “I want a wife. In every sense.”

  Glynis flushed and bit her lip. She could not truly have expected him to agree to this. He waited to hear what she really wanted.

  “I’ll share your bed—but only so long as ye are faithful.” She lifted her serious gray eyes to meet his. “If ye take another woman, I shall never willingly share your bed again.”