The hillside was covered with wildflowers, with a few sheep grazing here and there.
“I thought you had tired of me,” Glynis said, in her usual direct way, as she lay in his arms.
After the attack, Alex had brought Glynis straight up to the top of the highest hill where he could see for miles and miles. Once he was certain no one else would surprise them, he’d made love to her first frantically and then quite thoroughly.
“The truth is, I can’t get enough of ye,” Alex said, brushing his thumb across her bottom lip.
There was no point in pretending he could resist her. They would be in Edinburgh in a few days, and it would end. Why deny themselves the pleasure in the meantime?
Alex noted how high the sun was and knew they should be on their way. But the smell of her hair was in his nose and the silk of her skin under his fingertips. So, instead, he watched two hawks soar back and forth against the blue summer sky as he and Glynis talked about the rebellion, the new regent, and whatever else came into their heads.
When Glynis snuggled closer, Alex exhaled a breath and closed his eyes. God help him, he wanted her again. Surely, this could not go on. His desire for her would eventually fade, as it did with every single woman he had ever been with.
In the meantime, he would enjoy the present, as he always did. When he tilted her head up with his finger to kiss her, Glynis’s gray eyes searched his, as if she were trying to see into the heart of a sinner.
But this sinner’s heart was buried far too deep for her to find it.
CHAPTER 17
Edinburgh
Glynis held Alex’s arm tightly as they climbed the cobblestoned High Street through the heart of the city. Bells clanked, and carts rattled by her. Edinburgh was a buzzing hive of activity with people hauling goods up and down the crowded streets.
Unlike the Lowlanders scurrying around her like rabbits, Glynis felt as if she had weights on her feet. As soon as they found her relatives’ house, she and Alex would part. She tried telling herself that she dreaded having him leave her because of the uncertainties ahead—but she was never good at lying.
The High Street followed a ridge through the city like the spine of a sitting dog. Between the buildings, Glynis caught glimpses of an enormous fortress rising from black rock above the city.
“That’s Edinburgh Castle,” Alex said, following her gaze.
“Is that where ye are going to meet the regent and your countess?” she asked.
“She’s no my countess,” Alex said in a clipped tone.
Still, Glynis wondered what it was about the Frenchwoman that could draw Alex all the way to Edinburgh to see her.
“The royals find it is too windy and cold up on the rock,” Alex said, nodding toward the castle. “They prefer the comforts of Holyrood Palace, which is behind us at the other end of the city. That’s where I expect to find the regent—and the countess.”
“Ach, it seems wasteful to have two castles in one city,” she said.
“I fear being sensible is no requirement for being royal,” Alex said, and gave her arm a squeeze. “But if the English attack, the royals will run up the hill to Edinburgh Castle, for it is an impregnable fortress. Ye don’t want to be held prisoner there.”
“Is that where they have Donald Dubh MacDonald?” she asked.
Donald Dubh was the true heir to the Lordship of the Isles. As a child, he was held captive by the Campbells, who were his mother’s family. After he escaped from them, the clans united behind him, and he led a great rebellion.
“Aye, they’ve kept Donald Dubh imprisoned in Edinburgh Castle since they caught him ten years ago,” Alex said. “If it was possible to get him out, whether by force or trickery, the rebels would have done it long ago.”
How she would miss talking with Alex and hearing his stories. At night, after they made love, he would tell her tales as enchanting as any bard’s for as long as she wanted. She would fall asleep to the sound of his voice and wake up in his arms. The memory made her eyes sting.
“What is that horrid smell?” Glynis asked, as she wiped her eye with her sleeve. “It’s so foul it makes my eyes water.”
“Too many people living close together.” Alex pointed to one of the many narrow passages off the High Street. “The buildings are ten and twelve stories high on these passageways that they call closes. Everyone living on the close empties their waste out their doors or windows, and it all flows downhill to the loch below. The loch has no outlet, so the filth of the city stagnates there.”
“That’s disgusting,” she said, wrinkling her nose.
“Not so disgusting for the wealthy who live near the High Street, farthest from the loch.” Alex paused in his explanation as he guided her around a man carrying loaves of steaming bread on his head. “As ye go down the closes, those who are better off live on the upper floors, while the poorer souls live on the lower ones. The poorest of the poor live on the ground floor at the base of the hill next to the loch.”
“How do they survive it?” she asked.
“If they are born here, I suppose they are accustomed to it,” he said, “just as we islanders are accustomed to the sound of the sea and the feel of the wind in our faces.”
“Will ye be in the city long?” she couldn’t help asking.
“A couple of days. Only as long as it takes to get an audience with the regent.”
It was fortunate Alex would not be staying. Otherwise, she feared she would behave like all the other women he left wanting more. She’d be weak enough to keep watch for him, hoping to meet him in the most unlikely places.
