But the MacNeils had more dangerous weapons in their arsenal. Alex heard Duncan groan beside him as they entered the hall and saw what was waiting for them.
“God save us” escaped Alex’s lips. There were three twittering lasses sitting at the head table. The girls were pretty, but young and innocent enough to give Alex hives.
One of them wiggled her fingers at him, then her sister elbowed her in the ribs, and all three went into a fit of giggles behind their hands.
It was going to be a long evening.
“Quiet!” the chieftain thundered, and the color drained from the girls’ faces.
After exchanging greetings with Alex and Duncan, the MacNeil introduced his wife, an attractive, plump woman half his age, and his young son, who sat on her lap.
“These are my three youngest daughters,” the chieftain said, waving his arm toward the girls. “My eldest will join us soon.”
The missing daughter would be the one they’d heard about. She was rumored to be a rare beauty who had been turned out by her husband in disgrace.
She sounded like Alex’s kind of woman.
Before the chieftain could direct them where to sit, Alex and Duncan took seats at the far end from the three lasses. After a cursory prayer, wine and ale was poured, and the first courses were brought out.
Alex wanted to get their business done and leave. “Our chieftain hopes to strengthen the friendship between our two clans and has sent us here on a mission of goodwill.”
The MacNeil kept glancing at the doorway, his face darker each time. Though their host didn’t appear to be listening to a word, Alex forged ahead.
“Our chieftain pledges to join ye in fighting the pirates who are harassing your shores,” Alex said.
That caught the MacNeil’s attention. “The worst of them is his own uncle, Hugh Dubh,” he said, using the nickname Black Hugh, given him for his black heart.
“Hugh is his half uncle,” Duncan put in, as if that explained it all. “Two of his other half uncles have joined the pirates as well.”
“How do I know these MacDonald pirates aren’t raping and pillaging the outer isles on your chieftain’s orders?” the MacNeil demanded.
This was precisely what Connor feared the other chieftains would believe.
“Because they’ve raided our own clansmen up on North Uist,” Alex said. “Since we can’t know when or where Hugh will attack, the best way to catch him is to find his camp. Have ye heard any rumors of where it might be?”
“They say Hugh Dubh has piles of gold hidden away in his camp,” one of the MacNeil’s look-alike daughters piped up, “and he has a sea monster that protects it.”
“But no one can find Hugh,” another girl added, fixing wide blue eyes on Alex, “because he can call up a sea mist by magic and disappear.”
“Then I’ll just look for a sea monster in the mist,” Alex said to the girls, and Duncan glared at him for causing another round of giggles.
“Enough of these foolish tales,” their father shouted at the girls, then turned back to Alex and Duncan. “’Tis true that Hugh’s ship does have a way of disappearing into the mists, and no one knows where his camp is.”
The MacNeil chief tilted his head back to take a long drink from his cup, then slammed it on the table, sputtering and choking.
Alex followed the direction of his gaze—and almost choked on his own ale when he saw the woman. Ach, the poor lass had suffered the worst case of pox Alex had ever seen. The afflicted woman crossed the room at a brisk pace, her gaze fixed on the floor. When she took the place at the end of the table next to Alex, he had to move over to make room for her. She was quite stout, though not in a pleasing sort of way.
Alex tried not to stare at the pockmarks when he turned to greet her. But he couldn’t help it. God’s bones, these weren’t old scars—the pox were still oozing! Blood never troubled him at all, of course, but he was a wee bit squeamish about seeping sores.
“They call me Alexander Ban.”
“Glynis.”
Since she refused to look at him, Alex could stare freely. The longer he looked, the more certain he was that the pockmarks weren’t oozing—they were melting. Amusement tugged at the corners of his mouth.
“I confess, ye have me curious,” he said, leaning close to her ear. “What would cause a lass to give herself pockmarks?”
Glynis jerked her head up and stared at him. Despite the distracting red boils that were easing their way down her face, Alex couldn’t help noticing that she had beautiful gray eyes.
“’Tis unkind to poke fun at a lady’s unfortunate looks,” she said.
It was disconcerting to hear such a lovely voice come out of that alarming face. Alex let his gaze drift over her, taking in the graceful swan neck and the long, slender fingers clenching her wine cup.
“Your secret is safe with me, lass,” Alex said in a low voice. “But I suspect your family already knows it’s a disguise.”
He was hoping for a laugh, but he got none.
“Come,” he said, waggling his eyebrows at her. “Tell me why ye did it.”
