The Sinner

Alex stripped off his wet clothes and put on the dry shirt he had retrieved from their boat. His muscles ached pleasantly from being worked hard. With a sigh, he lay down on top of the bedclothes.

He had no idea how long he’d been sleeping when he awoke to the delicious sensation of a woman’s fingertips caressing his stomach. He smiled to himself and indulged in the completely inappropriate fantasy that it was Glynis MacNeil running her fingers over his skin.

Ah, that feels good, Glynis.

Long hair tickled his chest, and he imagined her thick chestnut-brown hair sliding over him. Aye.

It was bound to be a disappointment, but he supposed it was time to find out who this really was. When he slit open his eyes, Catherine Campbell was leaning over him with her hair spilling over his chest.

“I’d been watching for ye,” she said in her husky voice. “And now I’ve found ye.”

She had found him, indeed. Her hand was wrapped around his cock.

Catherine was a gorgeous woman, and he was tempted. God knew, his body was ready. But contrary to what many thought of him, Alex did abide by certain rules.

“I can’t do this, Catherine,” he said. “Not when I’m a guest in your husband’s home.”

“That didn’t trouble ye last time,” she said.

When she started moving her hand up his shaft, he held her wrist—no small act of will.

“I was a prisoner in Shaggy’s dungeon, not his guest,” he said. “The customary rules of courtesy did not apply.”

Catherine gave a throaty laugh. Alex tried hard not to notice that her skirts were hiked up to reveal lovely thighs—or that every time she leaned over him, her even lovelier breasts pressed against the low-cut bodice, as if begging to be released.

“Ye needn’t be concerned about Shaggy because I’m going to leave him,” Catherine said, and Alex’s throat went dry as she ran her hands from the sides of her breasts down to her hips and then the tops of her bare thighs. “Ye see, I need a man who can please me.”

There was nothing Connor would like better than a close connection to the Campbells. And Catherine was clearly suggesting a close connection of some sort.

“But ye haven’t left Shaggy yet,” he said. “So let me get up.”

When she didn’t budge, Alex decided he would have to move her off him, but there seemed no safe place to put his hands.

“Let’s get naked, Alexander.” She leaned against him, pressing her full breasts against his chest, and wound her arms around his neck.

It was not like him to say nay to a beautiful woman who wanted him naked. He made a practice of following the old saying The oar that is close at hand, row with it.

With her rubbing against him, his body was in favor of giving in. And yet, he didn’t truly want Catherine. It wasn’t just that bedding the wife of his host was against one of his few principles, or that he felt used—though he did. Catherine wanted to punish her husband. And worse, he suspected she wanted to get caught.

She was a beautiful, willing woman. And yet, Alex couldn’t get rid of her fast enough to suit him. As he sat up he took hold of her waist and lifted her to the floor. There.

When he stood, Catherine came behind him and put her arms around his waist. Her hands roamed over his chest and hips, and it took him a moment too long to remember why this was a bad idea. By the time he did, she had tugged his shirt over his head.

“Catherine. I told ye I can’t do this.”

When he turned around and took his shirt from her, she pressed herself against him. Ach, Catherine would try a saint. As soon as he peeled her fingers from around his neck, they ended up on his arse.

She felt very, very good. As she kissed his chest, he closed his eyes and checked his resolve.

“Ye know ye want me,” she said against his skin.

“Not now, Catherine.” Gently, he pushed her away.

Before she could grab him again, Alex gathered the rest of his clothes from the bench. When he turned and started toward the door, it was already open. Oh, God, no.

CHAPTER 8

The clatter and voices from below grew muffled as Glynis climbed the circular stone stairs. She should find Alex in the hall and thank him for what he did, but she didn’t want to risk seeing Magnus again so soon. When she reached the third floor, she paused, trying to remember which bedchamber the Macleans usually set aside for the visiting women of high rank.

Since everyone else was in the hall for the midday meal, she didn’t have to worry about disturbing anyone, so she opened the door to her right. Glynis took one step inside and froze. Somewhere deep in the back of her mind, a voice was telling her to get out. But her feet would not obey.

Alexander Ban MacDonald stood with his back to the door—and not a stitch on him. How she knew it was him from the back was a question she’d ask herself later. But one look at the blond hair, the broad shoulders, the long, muscular legs, and that perfect, manly arse, and Glynis knew for certain that this naked man was Alex.

A woman’s fingers were laced at the back of his neck. Glynis still could not move—her hand held the door latch as if melded to it. She forced her gaze to the floor, but there was nothing she could do to slow her heartbeat. When the woman gave a throaty laugh, Glynis could not help looking up again.

She could not breathe. The woman had her hands on Alex’s bare backside. Glynis imagined how his muscles would feel beneath her fingers.