The Sinner Page 20

  “I hoped ye would come to see me as a man ye could be content with and reconcile yourself to the marriage,” he said. “But it appears ye cannot, and I will no raise my daughter in a house filled with anger and unhappiness.”

  Glynis’s heart was pounding so hard that her chest hurt.

  “It won’t be easy convincing your father that I haven’t taken ye to bed and given him cause to force the marriage,” he said with a resigned sigh, “but I will.”

  She did not want to return to her father’s house to be put on display for an endless stream of unsavory suitors again. “What about all those people waiting out there for us?”

  Alex dismissed them all with a wave of his hand. “I know I pressed ye hard to do this, but you’re a stubborn lass who knows her own mind. So tell me, why did ye agree to wed me?”

  Glynis paused to lick her lips. She was unsure whether to tell him the truth, but she had nothing else to say. “Because I feared ye would wed Catherine, and I believed she would harm Sorcha.”

  Instead of dismissing her accusation as foolishness or demanding proof, Alex simply looked at her steadily and waited for her to explain herself.

  “Because Sorcha is silent, she senses things that others miss.”

  “Aye, I’ve noticed that,” Alex said.

  “I found Catherine taking Sorcha out in the loch where no one could see,” Glynis said. “I could tell that Sorcha was frightened to death of her.” She told him the rest of what happened, though there was not much more to tell.

  “One brings danger,” he muttered as he ran his hands through his hair. “I had no notion Catherine would want to harm Sorcha.”

  Glynis was used to her father—and everyone else—dismissing her judgment. It touched her that Alex did not question her perception of what had happened at the loch that day.

  “Well, I was right about one thing,” Alex said with a sad smile. “Ye would be a good mother to Sorcha.”

  “A child alone cannot bind us,” Glynis said, blinking hard to keep back tears. “As ye said, being a wife is more than being a nursemaid.”

  “I wanted ye for myself as well,” he said, and touched the back of his fingers to her cheek. “I know it is important to ye that your husband is faithful. Is that part of what is making ye so miserable about the prospect of being married to me?”

  Glynis dropped her gaze to her hands folded in her lap and nodded.

  “Then I would give ye my promise that so long as we share a bed as man and wife, I’ll take no other.”

  When he first spoke of marriage, he had only promised to be discreet in his affairs. He was willing to give her the promise she wanted now, but could she trust him? Even if Alex meant it now, would he still mean it in a month?

  “I can’t do more than give ye my word on it.” He got to his feet and looked down at her. “I wish that were enough.”

  If Alex had shouted at her and stormed off, Glynis might not have stopped him. But instead, he leaned down and kissed her cheek, a tender gesture that left her blinking back tears again. Then he turned and walked quietly toward the door.

  As Alex said, he was the best of her choices, by far. But more than that, he was the only man she wanted. Was she brave enough to take the risk that he would hurt her? Was she strong enough to survive if he disappointed her? All Glynis knew for certain was that she could not bear the thought of him wedding another.

  “Alex!”

  When he turned around, his face, which was normally so full of humor, looked ragged.

  “Ye were right. I did not fulfill my side of the bargain,” she said. “Since I said I would wed ye, I should not have done it begrudgingly. That was wrong of me, and I’m sorry.”

  “Ye needn’t apologize,” Alex said, sounding tired. “I’ll go tell the others now, and I’ll have someone bring ye supper so ye don’t have to face them.”

  When he started to leave again, she sprang to her feet. “Wait. Ye don’t understand me.”

  “That’s true enough,” he said, giving her a bittersweet smile.

  “What I mean is, I think we should marry,” she said in a rush. “I’ll make the best of it.”

  He gave a dry laugh. “Make the best of something ye hate? Nay, that’s no good enough.”

  “I want to marry ye, Alex,” she said, and it was the truth. With all her heart, she wanted him. “And I will try to trust ye.”

  “Are ye certain ye want to go ahead with this?” His expression was solemn. “I told ye, I don’t want a trial marriage. My daughter already lost whoever raised her until now.”

  Alex had told her that he wanted her for himself as well, and she would hang on to that. Though he would not be marrying at all if not for Sorcha, he must care for her a little.

  Glynis quelled her doubts and nodded.

  “All I ask is that ye make a peaceful home for me and my daughter.” Alex held out his hand, and when she took it he gave her a genuine smile. “Duncan has been entertaining everyone with his pipes, but let’s no keep them waiting any longer.”

  * * *

  “Ready?” Alex asked, as they stood together just outside the hall. He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, then flung the door open.

  The buzz of voices died, and every head turned toward them. In another moment, Duncan abandoned the mournful strain he had been playing and began a lively tune that sounded like pure happiness. When the MacDonalds broke into wild cheers, signaling their approval of the marriage, Glynis felt herself blush with pleasure.

  Hope flooded her heart.

  She smiled up at Alex as they walked hand in hand to the front of the hall. This time, they said their vows in strong voices and without hesitation. Then Alex gave her a kiss that caused the crowd to hoot and shout again. As soon as he released her, Sorcha, who had been standing with Sìleas and Ilysa, threw her arms around Glynis’s waist.

  And suddenly, Glynis had both a husband and a daughter. With Alex’s arm about her shoulders, her new daughter at her side, and all the MacDonalds giving her such a warm welcome, Glynis set her doubts aside and decided to enjoy her day of happiness.

  Alex’s clansmen came up one after another to wish them well, giving them the traditional greetings. Saoghal fada dhuibh. Long life to you. A h-uile là sona dhuibh gun là idir dona dhuibh. May every day be happy for you without a single bad day.

  Alex was laughing at something his cousin Ian had said when Glynis felt him go rigid beside her.

  “So, ’tis true that ye let a lass catch ye,” a deep voice called out.

  When Glynis turned to see who had spoken, she felt as if she were looking into the future and seeing Alex thirty years hence. The tall, fair-haired warrior could be none other than Alex’s father. Ach, it was a sin for a man to still be so handsome at his age.

  “I caught her, Father,” Alex said, his voice as stiff as his back. “I am a lucky man.”

  Alex said it with a fierceness that made it sound more like a challenge than an expression of good fortune.

  “Ah, ye are a pretty lass,” his father said, giving Glynis a wink and taking her hands.

  It was easy to see where Alex got his charm, but the older man had a hardness in his eyes that Glynis had only seen in Alex when he fought—and right now.

  When his father leaned down to kiss her, Alex put his arm out to stop him.

  “’Tis past time ye did your duty and wed,” his father said, meeting Alex’s glare. “A man needs an heir.”

  A dark-haired woman broke through the group surrounding them and threw her arms around Alex. “Is it true? Ye are taking a wife at long last?”

  “Aye, Mother,” Alex said in a strained voice, as he gently pushed her away. “What are the two of ye doing here?”

  “We heard that the MacNeil claimed ye had run off with his daughter and was waiting for ye here,” his father said. “And then our chieftain sent word today that ye were here with the lass.”

  Alex shot a glare at Connor.

  “We couldn’t miss our only son’s
wedding,” his mother said, “so we came at once.”

  “Ye came together?” Alex asked. “On the same ship?”

  “There wasn’t much time,” his mother said.

  “I’m pleased ye can join us for the wedding feast,” Alex said, though he did not sound pleased at all. “Mother, Father, this is my bride, Glynis, daughter of Gilleonan of Barra, chieftain of the MacNeils.”

  “I didn’t think there was a lass in all the Highlands who could capture my son,” his father said with another broad wink. “But ye proved me wrong.”

  “What a horrid thing to say to a new bride,” his mother snapped. “I can only hope our son is a better husband than ye were.”

  Glynis was beginning to understand where Alex’s aversion to marriage came from—and why he was so set on having a peaceful home.

  “However ye did it, dear,” his mother said, patting Glynis’s arm, “I praise God, for I feared I would never see a grandchild of mine.”

  “Then ye will be glad to hear my other news.” Alex drew Sorcha out from where she had been hiding behind him and rested his hands on her shoulders. “This is my daughter, Sorcha.”

  His mother shrieked and threw her hands up in the air. Before his father and mother could close in on the poor child, Alex lifted Sorcha in his arms. He spoke in French to her—without translating into Gaelic for once—then turned his attention back to his parents.

  “Sorcha hasn’t chosen to speak yet,” he said in a firm tone. “She will in her own good time, so don’t press her.”

  What a family. Glynis suddenly realized that she had never asked Alex where they would be living. By the saints, she hoped it was not with his parents.

  * * *

  Alex felt as if he were suffocating. His mother and father were in the same room, his bride was looking as if she’d rather be at the bottom of the sea, and his daughter was cowering against his chest with her hands covering her face.

  His parents’ arrival made him remember every reason he had never wanted to marry.

  CHAPTER 36

  After the food had been taken away and the old and young began leaving for their beds, Alex’s friends gathered around to tell Glynis tales and jokes about the groom. They were all drinking and enjoying themselves considerably, as men did on such occasions. Her new husband, however, appeared to be enjoying his drink a good deal more than the jokes.

  “’Tis a special day for me as well,” Duncan said. “’Tis not often a man gets a present on his friend’s wedding day.”

  “What present is that?” Alex asked.

  “Why, that sweet galley we stole from Shaggy belongs to me now,” Duncan said. “Don’t ye recall our wager?”

  “What wager?” Alex asked.

  “I bet ye would have a wife within half a year,” Duncan said. “And here ye are wed, when it’s only been three months.”

  “Ach, no!” Alex said. “Ye wouldn’t take her from me.”

  “I would,” Duncan said with a slow smile.

  “By the saints, I hate to lose that boat,” Alex said. “Ye know how much I love her.”

  Glynis pressed her lips together. Must Alex announce to his entire clan that he favored a stolen boat over his new wife?

  “I’d say ye got the better end of the wager,” Duncan said, and turned to her. “Alex is a lucky man. I wish ye every happiness with the damned scoundrel.”

  Glynis pasted a smile on her face as the men laughed.

  Then Duncan turned and collected coins from all the other men. It appeared that every one of them had wagered against Alex marrying.

  “Ye look good for a dead man,” a small, wiry man said, as he slapped Alex on the back.

  “What are ye saying, Tait?” Alex asked.

  “Didn’t Alex tell us all he’d be dead before he’d be wed?” Tait shouted to the others.

  Connor grabbed Tait by the back of his shirt as if he were a cat. “Ye know what a joker Alex is.”

  But Tait was undaunted. “If Alex said it once, he said it a hundred times: ‘Better to tie an anchor to my leg and toss me into the sea than to tie me to a wife. Better to beat me with a…’”

  The sound of Tait’s voice faded as Connor marched him off.

  Ian gave Glynis a smile that she was certain had stopped a few lasses’ hearts. “We didn’t have an opportunity to go off with the groom the night before the wedding, as is customary. Do ye mind if we take your husband for a wee bit before we give him to ye for good?”

  “Or for bad!” one of the other men called out to another round of laughter.

  * * *

  Married. How had it happened?

  Alex took another long pull from the jug of whiskey. From the time he was a wee lad, he’d vowed he’d never do it.

  He had a wife. Despite the fact that he’d spent the last fortnight cajoling, charming, seducing, and almost begging Glynis to agree to marry him, it was hard to fathom.

  “Be brave,” Ian said, squeezing his shoulder.

  “What if I can’t do this?” Alex said, desperation rising in his throat.

  “Is it the basic instruction ye need?” Duncan asked with a straight face. “What goes where and such?”

  “I don’t mean in bed—I know how to please a woman.” Alex punched Duncan’s arm, then turned to Ian. “It’s all the rest of the time. What do I do with her?”

  “Ye do the same as ye always do—the difference is that ye have someone to talk to about it.” Ian grinned. “Whether ye want to talk about it or no.”

  Alex took another long drink while the others laughed.

  “Glynis seems a good sort,” Connor said. “I’m sure ye have nothing to worry about.”

  Worried? He glanced over at Glynis, with Sorcha asleep against her shoulder. He was petrified that he would fail them.

  Oh, God, no. Alex closed his eyes as his father pushed Ian aside to sit next to him and put his arm around him. Ge b’e thig gun chuireadh, suidhidh e gun iarraidh. Who comes uninvited will sit down unbidden.

  Ian, Connor, and Duncan had sensed he was sinking below the waves and had dragged him to a corner of the hall for a private talk. Alex did not want to speak with anyone else—particularly his father.

  “Don’t ever love a woman,” his father said, staring at Alex’s mother across the hall, “or she’ll tear your heart out and feed it to the fish.”

  * * *

  Sorcha yawned and leaned against Glynis’s shoulder. Glynis kissed the top of her head, pleased to have the comfort of the child’s presence. Across the hall, she saw Sìleas enter on light feet and come straight toward them.

  “Sorcha can sleep with us and our two babes,” Sìleas said, holding her hand out to Sorcha. “The twins are already upstairs with their nursemaid.”

  “Sorcha isn’t used to strangers—,” Glynis started to say before Sorcha bounded to her feet and took Sìleas’s hand.

  “It’s your wedding night,” Sileas said with a soft smile. “Sorcha will enjoy being with the twins.”

  Glynis felt bereft without her. Alex’s mother came to sit beside her, which was unlikely to cheer her up. His mother must have been beautiful before lines of disappointment etched the skin around her eyes and mouth.

  “Alex has a good heart,” his mother said, patting Glynis’s hand. “Unfortunately, he has bad blood from his father.”

  His mother was slurring her words. Were all the MacDonalds drunkards?

  “To the one man who could tame my wild daughter!” her father shouted across the room, as he lifted his cup high—proving that the MacDonalds had nothing on the MacNeils when it came to drink.

  Glynis closed her eyes and wished she were anywhere but at her wedding.

  Glynis could tell that the drunker the men became, the more colorful were their stories. Memories of her first wedding swirled through her head and weighed down on her chest. Magnus was not the sort of man to be sensitive about a lass’s first time, and drunk he was worse.

  Glynis stood, intent on slipping out of the hall an
d up the stairs to the bedchamber Ilysa had prepared for them—and barring the door when she got there.

  But before she took two steps, one of the men shouted, “Alex, your bride is tired of waiting for ye. Time for the bedding!”

  CHAPTER 37

  Alex did not remember his wedding night.

  God help him, he was a bastard. A useless man. A poor excuse for a husband. And his head hurt like the devil. Oh, Jesus, take me now. What had he been thinking?

  His mouth was dry, he had sand in his eyes, and he was still drunk, but he had this blinding headache. And worst of all was the sinking feeling in his stomach that came from knowing he had fooked up badly. As awful as he felt, he rolled over toward his bride, intending to make up for his lack of attention with a bout of morning lovemaking.

  He stretched his arm out and felt around. But his bride was not in the bed.

  Alex crawled out of bed and poured the pitcher of water into the basin. He splashed water on his face, and when that did not do the job, he stuck his head in the basin and closed his eyes. God’s bones, he felt ill. And it was going to get worse.

  Alex spent the next hour searching the castle high and low for Glynis—while trying to avoid telling anyone that he had already lost his wife. He finally found her in one of the boats pulled up on the shore. She was sitting as straight as an arrow with her arms crossed over her chest, a grim look on her face, and her eyes fixed on the sea.

  Glynis did not turn to look at him as he climbed into the boat.

  “What are ye doing here?” he asked after a while.

  “I’m waiting to leave,” she said. “I want to put our wedding night behind me as soon as possible.”

  He had slept through his wedding night. God help him, because the bedding was the only part about being a husband that Alex had been certain he could do well.

  Glynis just sat there with her arms folded and her mouth clamped shut again. At least she didn’t shout and throw things like his mother. He considered pointing out to her that their true wedding night had been after they had made their vows alone to each other—and he’d acquitted himself quite well. But he thought better of it.