could reach them.
It looked as if the pirates would succeed. Though her bare feet were cut and bleeding from the barnacles, Glynis ran faster and faster. But the castle guards were too far away—and the pirates too close.
The guards were still a hundred yards away when the pirate’s boat grounded. Glynis jerked to a halt and watched in horror as men dropped over the side of the ship and started splashing toward shore.
Alex lifted her onto a high rock.
“Stay here so I know where ye are,” he ordered. “I won’t let them get to ye.”
As Alex turned from her, he reached behind him for his claymore, and the steel of his blade whistled through the air. His battle cry “
Without breaking his stride, Alex cut down the first two men. As he leaped over the blade of a third, he swung his claymore into the man’s side.
Glynis screamed as another pirate charged Alex before he could recover from his last swing with the big, two- handed sword. With flowing movements, Alex released one hand from his claymore, pulled his dirk from his belt, and plunged it into the man’s chest. His attacker sank to his knees with a cry, and his blood colored the water around him in rusty clouds.
Alex glanced over his shoulder at her as if to be sure none of the pirates had gotten past him. His eyes were murderous, and his every muscle taut and ready.
This was not the laughing man who sat beside Glynis watching seals a short time ago. Nay, this Alexander Ban MacDonald was every inch a fearsome Highland warrior—and he was magnificent to behold.
Her father’s men were running the last few yards to join the fight, with Duncan MacDonald in the lead. The two groups crashed together with shouts and grunts and swords clanging.
Glynis could not take her eyes off the two MacDonald men. Despite the pirates’ greater number, the pair were lethal. They forced the pirates back, and back again, under a unified and ferocious assault. Although her father’s men fought well, they fought individually. The MacDonald warriors fought as a merciless unit.
Their violence had a grace and control that bespoke years of practice. After a time, she could catch some of the silent signals between them.
Something drew her attention from the fierce battle raging on the beach to the pirate ship. A man stood alone in the prow with his arms folded across his broad chest. He was staring at her. As their eyes locked across the distance, a cold shiver went up her spine.
She sensed this man meant her harm—and not just the harm he meant to anyone who crossed his path. She didn’t know why, but she felt as if he was fixing her in his mind, as if he had a particular, evil plan for her.
With his eyes still on her, the man put his fingers to his mouth and made a piercing whistle. The pirates on the beach ran to the boat and scrambled up the sides like rats.
Alex ran after them into the surf until he stood in water to his waist.
“Hugh Dubh MacDonald,” he shouted, waving his claymore in the air. “Come back and fight, ye miserable coward!”
“Tell my nephew I’ll see him dead,” the man in the prow shouted back. He ducked just as Alex’s dirk sailed through the air where his head had been.
While her father’s men congratulated themselves on their success in driving the pirates off and Duncan cleaned his sword, Alex stood in the water raining curses on the departing ship. Finally, Alex turned and strode through the surf toward the beach with the sun glinting on his hair and fire burning in his eyes.
“’Tis safe to go to the castle now, Mistress Glynis,” one of her father’s men said. “Let me help ye down.”
As the man reached up to grasp her about the waist, Alex’s shout stopped him.
“Take your hands off her!”
The guard jumped back and stared at Alex. Glynis’s heart was in her throat as Alex stormed up the beach dripping water and blood, looking like his Viking ancestors who once terrorized these coasts. His eyes bored into her as if no one else existed.
When Alex reached her, he clamped his hands around her waist and lifted her off the rock. His eyes never left her face as he slid her down his body, every inch of her rubbing against the scorching heat of his muscular frame. Glynis’s knees were weak before her feet touched the ground.
Alex’s eyes had a wild fierceness and a hunger that sent her pulse racing.
“Aye,” she whispered and held on as he leaned her backward.
* * *
Battle lust throbbed in Alex’s veins and left him hard. When he turned and saw Glynis on the rock, he would have killed to have her. He had never wanted a woman as much as he wanted Glynis MacNeil right now.
From the moment their bodies touched, he felt as if it had been ordained that they should join. Her body melded to his as if she had been made for him alone. Alex kissed her with all the lust pounding through him, his tongue thrusting, possessing. He had to have her.
He heard Duncan call his name through the haze of lust, but he didn’t give a damn. Nothing mattered but this woman’s sweet mouth on his. She was a wonder under his hands, responding with an awakening passion that had him yearning to lie her down and take her on the sand.
The sharp prick of a steel point in the middle of his back was a bit harder to ignore than Duncan.
“I appreciate ye saving my daughter from your miserable pirate relations,” the MacNeil said close to Alex’s ear. “But unless ye want to leave here with a wife, you’d best release her now.”
