The Guardian

MacNeils. At dawn, Alex awoke to the sound of soft footfalls crossing the hall. He rolled to the side and leaped to his feet, leaving his host kicking into air where Alex had been lying.

“You’re quick,” the MacNeil said, with an approving nod. “I only meant to wake ye.”

“That could have gotten ye killed,” Alex said, as he slipped his dirk back into his belt. “And then I’d have no end of trouble leaving your fine home.”

Duncan was feigning sleep, but his hand was on the hilt of his dagger. If Alex gave the signal, Duncan would slit their host’s throat, and the two of them would be halfway to their boat before anyone else in the hall knew what had happened.

“Come for a stroll with me,” the MacNeil said. “I’ve something to show ye.”

“I could use some fresh air after all the whiskey ye gave me last night.”

It was difficult to discover a man’s intentions when he was sober, so Alex had matched the MacNeil drink for drink far into the night. No doubt the MacNeil chieftain had attempted to drink him under the table with the same goal in mind. Neither had succeeded.

“No one forced it down your throat,” the MacNeil said, as they left the hall.

“Ah, but ye knew I am a MacDonald,” Alex said. “We don’t like to lose, whether it be drinking games or battles.”

The MacNeil cocked an eyebrow. “Or women?”

Alex didn’t take the bait. His problem had never been losing women, but finding a graceful way to end it when the time came—which it always did.

Alex followed the MacNeil out the gate and onto the narrow causeway that connected the castle to the main island.

The MacNeil halted and pointed down the beach. “My daughter Glynis is there.”

Alex’s gaze was riveted to the slender figure walking barefoot along the shore with her back to them. Her long hair was blowing in the wind, and every few feet she stopped and leaned over to pick up something from the beach. Ach, she made a lovely sight. Alex had a weakness for a woman who liked to get her feet wet.

“Ye strike me as a curious man,” the MacNeil said. “Don’t ye want to know what she truly looks like?”

Alex did want to know. He narrowed his eyes at the MacNeil. He was more accustomed to having fathers hide their daughters from him. “Are ye not fond of your daughter?”

“Glynis is my only child by my first wife. She’s very much like her mother, as difficult a woman as was ever born.” The MacNeil sighed. “God, how I loved her.

“The other girls are sweet, biddable lasses who will tell their husbands they are wise and clever and always in the right, whether they are or no. But not Glynis.”

The younger sisters sounded too dull by half.

“I didn’t raise Glynis any different, she just is,” the chieftain said. “If we were attacked and I was killed, the other girls would weep and wail, helpless creatures that they are. But Glynis would pick up a sword and fight like a she-wolf to protect the others.”

“So why are ye so anxious to see Glynis wed?” Alex asked. She seemed the only one worth keeping to him.

“She and her stepmother are like dry kindling and a lit torch. Glynis needs her own home. She doesn’t like being under the thumb of another woman.”

“Or a man’s,” Alex said. “Judging from what I heard she did to her former husband.”

“Ach, he was a fool to tell the tale,” the MacNeil said with a wave of his hand. “What man with any pride would admit his wife got her blade into his hip? Ye know what she was aiming for, of course.”

Alex winced. He’d had women weep and occasionally toss things at him, but none had ever tried to cut off his manly parts.

But then, Alex had never married.

THE DISH

Where authors give you the inside scoop!

From the desk of Margaret Mallory

Dear Reader,

I was a late bloomer.

There, I’ve said it. That single fact defined my adolescence.

When I entered high school at thirteen-going-on-fourteen, I looked like a sixth grader. Was it the braces? The glasses? The flat chest? The short stature? Red hair and freckles did not lend sophistication to this deadly combination. I have a vivid memory of one of my mother’s friends looking at me that summer before high school and blurting out, “What a funny-looking kid.”

To my enormous relief, I entered tenth grade with breasts, contact lenses, and no braces. Boys looked at me differently, girls quit ridiculing me, and adults ceased to speak to me as if I were eleven. And older guys—who had utterly failed to notice my “inner beauty” before—appeared out of nowhere

Although it took my self-esteem years to recover, suffering is never wasted on a writer. With THE GUARDIAN, I wanted to write a story with a heroine who goes through this awkward stage—along with several dangerous adventures—and eventually comes out the other side as a confident, mature woman who feels loved and valued for her beauty inside and out.

Of course, I had to give Sileas, my ugly-duckling heroine, a hero to die for. Ian MacDonald is the handsome young Highlander she has adored since she could walk.

Sileas is an awkward, funny-looking thirteen-year-old when Ian rescues her from her latest round of trouble. Ian is not exactly pleased when, as a result of his good deed, he is forced to wed her. Although Sileas lives in the