“Ouch!” Glynis yelped when a loud banging caused Old Molly to stick her needle in Glynis’s side.
“Get yourself down to the hall, Glynis,” her father shouted from the other side of the door. “Our guests are arriving.”
“I’m almost ready, da,” she called out.
“Don’t think ye can fool me with a sweet voice,” he said. “What are ye doing in there?”
Glynis risked opening the door a crack and stuck her face in it. Her father, a big, barrel-chested man, was looking as foul-tempered as his reputation.
“Ye said I should dress so these damned MacDonalds won’t soon forget me,” she said. “That takes a woman time, da.”
He narrowed his eyes at her, but he let that pass. After all these years of living with a wife and daughters, females were still largely a mystery to him. In this war with her father, Glynis was willing to use whatever small advantage she had.
“Their new chieftain didn’t come himself,” he said in what for him was a low voice. “But it was too much to hope a chieftain would take ye, after the shame ye brought upon yourself. One of these others will have to do.”
Glynis swallowed against the lump in her throat. Having her father blame her for her failed marriage—and believe she had dishonored her family—hurt more than anything her husband had done to her.
“I did nothing shameful,” she said through clenched teeth. “But I will, if ye force me to take another husband.”
“Ye were born obstinate as an ox,” her father shouted through the six-inch crack in the door. “But I am your father and your chieftain, and ye will do as I tell ye.”
“What man will want a woman who’s shamed herself?” she hissed at him.
“Ach, men are fools for beauty,” her father said. “Despite what happened, ye are still that.”
Glynis slammed the door shut in his face and threw the bar across it.
“Ye will do as I say, or I’ll throw ye out to starve!”
That was all she could make out amidst his long string of curses before his footsteps echoed down the spiral stone staircase.
Glynis blinked hard to keep back the tears. She was done with weeping.
“I should have given ye poison as a wedding gift, so ye could come home a widow,” Old Molly said behind her. “I told the chieftain he was wedding ye to a bad man, but he’s no better at listening than his daughter is.”
“Quickly now.” Glynis picked up the small bowl from the side table and held it out to Molly. “It will ruin everything if he loses patience and comes back to drag me downstairs.”
Old Molly heaved a great sigh and dipped her fingers into the red clay paste.
Alex stretched out and closed his eyes to enjoy the sun and sea breeze a little longer. It was a long sail from the Isle of Skye to the MacNeil stronghold on Barra, but they were nearly there.
“Remind me how Connor convinced us to pay a visit on the MacNeils,” Alex said.
“We volunteered,” Duncan said.
“Ach, that was foolish,” Alex said, “when we know the MacNeil chieftain is looking for husbands for his daughters.”
“Aye.”
Alex opened one eye. “Were we that drunk?”
“Aye,” Duncan said with one of his rare smiles.
Duncan was a good man, if a wee bit dour these days—which just went to show that love could bring the strongest of men to their knees. Alex had known the big, red-haired warrior since they were bairns. They and Alex’s cousins, Connor and Ian, had been fast friends all their lives.
“I swear,” Alex said, “since Connor became chieftain, he grows more devious by the day.”
“Drunk or sober, we would have agreed,” Duncan said. “We couldn’t let Connor come himself.”
A chieftain didn’t travel the Western Isles without war galleys full of men—the risk of being taken hostage or murdered by another clan was too great. With Connor’s uncle Hugh Dubh still threatening to take the chieftainship, Connor had to keep most of his warriors at home to defend Dunscaith Castle.
The four of them—Alex, Duncan, Ian, and Connor—had returned from France to find Connor’s father dead, his blackhearted Uncle Hugh living in the chieftain’s castle, and their clan in a dire state. While they had succeeded in driving Hugh Dubh from the castle and making Connor chieftain, Hugh Dubh had escaped. Worse still, Hugh had returned to pirating with his brothers. Now, at a time when their clan was badly in need of allies, Connor’s uncles were harassing clans all over the Western Isles.
Alex and Duncan’s task, as Connor’s emissaries, was to assure the other chieftains that Connor’s uncles weren’t raping and pillaging their shores on their new chieftain’s orders.
“Ye could make this easy by marrying one of the MacNeil’s daughters,” Duncan said, the corner of his mouth quirking up.
“I see ye do remember how to make a joke.” Not many men teased Duncan, so Alex did his best to make up for it.
“Ye know that’s what Connor wants,” Duncan said. “He has no brothers to make marriage alliances for him—so a cousin will have to do. If ye don’t like one of the MacNeil lasses, there are plenty of other chieftains’ daughters.”
