tolerate it! Make no mistake, the clans in the Western Isles will be brought to heel.”
“My clan has no dispute with either the Crown or the MacIains,” Alex said, wishing he had arrived before the news of this latest rebel attack.
“I need proof,” the regent said, his eyes narrow angry slits.
“If my clan were fighting, I would be with them.” Alex spread his arms out. “As ye can see, I’m here.”
“While your chieftain is at Mingary with three hundred warriors, raping and pillaging with the rest of these traitorous heathens,” Albany shouted.
“We don’t hold with rape,” Alex said, offended.
Being called traitorous heathens, however, didn’t bother him overmuch. A Highlander’s only true allegiance was to his clan, and though Highlanders were as good of Christians as anyone, they didn’t let that interfere with the old customs more than they had to.
“If your clan is not in league with the rebels, then I expect your chieftain to send warriors promptly to fight them.”
“He will as soon as he can spare the men,” Alex said. “For now, my chieftain must keep his warriors at home to protect our clan from the MacLeods, who have already stolen some of our lands, and from the pirates, who are raiding all up and down the Western Isles. In fact, Your Grace, we could use some assistance ourselves.”
Judging from the regent’s thunderous expression, he didn’t like Alex’s suggestion.
“Perhaps the MacDonalds of Sleat need a chieftain who is willing to fight for the Crown,” Albany snapped. “I’ve been told that Hugh MacDonald would do so if he were chieftain.”
Alex usually held his temper, but the regent’s veiled threat to support Hugh in a bid to take the chieftainship from Connor had it rising fast.
“We call him Hugh Dubh,
The courtiers observing their exchange gasped as one.
“I will use whoever and whatever I must to put down this rebellion.” Albany’s voice was soft now, but his fists were clenched so tight that his knuckles were white. “Tell me, does your chieftain have a son or a brother?”
“His brother is dead, and he has no son yet.” A prickle of unease began working it’s way up Alex’s spine.
“You are his closest kin?”
“I’m as close as any, after his sister in Ireland,” Alex said.
“Then we’ll have to make do with you for a hostage,” the regent said. “You shall be our guest at Edinburgh Castle until your chieftain commits his warriors to fighting the rebels.”
The urge to escape pulsed through Alex. In a flash, he knew how he would do it. He saw himself pulling his hidden blade and springing on the regent. With his dirk at Albany’s throat, he could use him to get out of the palace. From there, it would be easy to escape the city.
Alex was quick, and he was bold. He knew he could do it.
There was nothing he would hate more than to be locked in a confined space for months or years. He would rather fight a hundred battles, die a dozen ugly deaths.
And yet, a man must make the sacrifice that is needed, not the one he would choose for himself. If serving as the Crown’s hostage would buy Connor time for the clan, Alex must let them take him.
Albany waved his hand at the guards and shouted, “Seize him!”
CHAPTER 19
My, don’t ye look lovely,” Glynis’s aunt Peg said, clasping her hands together in front of her. “The gown fits ye like a glove.”
Glynis ran her hands over the soft wool. It felt strange to be wearing her mother’s clothes. Bessie, the slight, middle-aged maid, had found the trunk with her mother’s things in the attic.
“Ye are just her size,” Bessie said, as she fastened the last button at the back of Glynis’s neck. “And just as pretty.”
“My father always said how much I was like her.” And he never seemed to notice the look of irritation on her stepmother’s face when he said it.
For the first time, Glynis felt guilty, knowing how worried her father must be about her. They had always had a close bond, though their fights since she left Magnus had strained it badly.
“I’ll never understand what possessed my sister to run off and wed that wild Highlander,” Aunt Peg said, touching the back of her pudgy hand to her forehead.
“He was devilishly handsome,” the maid said in a voice too low for her aunt to hear.
Glynis did not believe that was the reason her mother had followed him across Scotland, though her father must have been handsome as a young chieftain.
“It was because he loved her so much,” Glynis said.
She felt a sting in her eye, thinking of her father’s daily visits to her mother’s grave. How many times had she spied on him there as a child and heard him having a discussion with his long-dead wife? If Glynis had grown up expecting to have love in her marriage, it was her father’s doing, however inadvertent.
“Love doesn’t put food on the table,” her aunt said. “Henry’s left his shop to take us on our errand, so we must not keep him waiting.”
Glynis had a hundred questions she wanted to ask about her mother, but her aunt had had little to say on the subject when she inquired earlier.
