Page 77 of The Sinner
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.
