“And he succeeded,” Connor said with his gaze fixed on the horizon. Someone who did not know him well would not guess from his calm exterior that the chieftain was as angry as Duncan. “We have little chance of finding Hugh until he strikes again. He and his men could be hiding in any of a thousand inlets in the Western Isles.”
“They could have gone to North Uist.” Alex’s heart started pounding as the thought struck him. “While we sailed south, along the west side of the islands, Hugh and his men could have sailed north on the east side.”
“Alex, they could be anywhere,” Connor said.
“Hugh has gone to attack my home.” The certainty of it settled over Alex like a cold, heavy fog. “We must go back at once.”
Connor did not look convinced, but he signaled to the men to turn the ships north.
“It does make sense that Hugh would attack Dunfaileag Castle,” Ian said. “It would be his way of thumbing his nose at ye, Connor. Your uncle knows ye have too many loyal men at Dunscaith now for him to take it, so instead he lures ye to the outer isles. And then, while he has us looking the other way, he takes the one castle we hold here.”
Hugh would enjoy making Connor look the fool by raiding Dunfaileag Castle while Connor—and his castle keeper—were close by with two war galleys full of men.
“I left my wife and daughter unprotected,” Alex said as he stared north at the endless sea.
He had feared all the wrong things: that he would not know how to keep Glynis happy, that he would hurt her, that she would steal his heart. All those things had come to pass, but they were nothing to this. In his vanity, it had never occurred to him that he would fail to protect his wife and daughter. That was the one duty a man had above all others.
Duncan came to stand beside him at the rail and rested a hand on Alex’s shoulder. “Even if Hugh has gone to Dunfaileag, he doesn’t have enough men to take the castle.”
* * *
From the corner of her eye, Glynis saw her dirk on the bed, where she must have set it when she went to open the chest. When Magnus took a step toward her, she lunged and grabbed it. Then she jumped back, holding it in front of her with both hands.
“Stay away from me, Magnus,” Glynis said. “I’ve knifed ye once, so ye know I have the nerve to do it.”
“I was dead drunk at the time—and fool enough not to expect my own wife to take a blade to me,” Magnus said. “I’m neither now. Put the blade down before ye get hurt.”
If it were not for Sorcha, she would have fought him anyway, as hopeless as that would be. But Glynis did not want her daughter to hear her being hurt.
“I’ll put it down,” she said, “as soon as ye tell me why ye are here and what ye plan to do with me.”
“Ye belong to me,” he said. “I’m taking ye away from your false husband.”
“But why? Ye never liked me.”
“What has that to do with it?” Magnus said, his face turning an ugly red. “Ye are my wife, and ye don’t leave unless I say so.”
She had been desperate at the time, but Glynis could see now that she should have found a quieter way to leave him. Cutting Magnus with a blade and stealing a boat was as foolish as poking a mad bull with a stick.
“Alex will find me and bring me back,” she said, trying to keep up her courage.
“No one has found us yet,” Magnus said with a sneer. “Our camp is hidden away behind an island on Loch Eyenort on South Uist.”
“Leave me here.” Though she knew pleading never worked with Magnus, she could not help herself. “Ye don’t want me for your wife. Ye never did.”
“Aye, I don’t want ye—you’re too dirty for me now,” he said. “But I will enjoy watching the other men share ye.”
Magnus would do it, too. He hated her that much.
“Put down the dirk, or you’ll die in this room,” Magnus said. “Make your choice quickly, for I’m sorely tempted by the notion of Alex MacDonald finding ye dead in a pool of blood on his bedchamber floor.”
Alex finding her would be bad enough, but it would be Sorcha who saw her body first. Glynis let her dagger clatter to the floor.
“Ye weren’t quick enough.” Magnus took two long strides toward her and put his boot on her dropped blade. “I saw how Alex MacDonald looked at ye—at
The venom in Magnus’s black eyes made Glynis’s heart freeze in her chest.
“He might not recognize ye at first,” Magnus said, fingering the blade in his hand. “But eventually, he’ll know ye by the ring on your finger or a lock of your hair. And then he’ll spend the rest of his nights imagining how your screams filled his bedchamber.”
CHAPTER 51
Alex stared at the outline of Dunfaileag Castle in the distance. A thin reed of smoke rose from behind its walls. He tried to tell himself that there could be a dozen causes of fire in a castle—a turned lamp in the stable, a grease fire in the kitchen—all of them easily controlled and put out. And there were no ships in sight. Surely that was a good sign.
But as they sailed closer, he saw the broken boards of the gate. The pirates had been here and gone.
Duncan pushed the man at the rudder aside and guided their galley in with his sure hand, while Ian and Connor stood on either side of Alex without saying a word. And still, it seemed to take half his lifetime to sail the remaining distance to shore.
“Look,” Ian said, pointing. “There are women on the beach.”
