The Sinner

“Connor is a good man,” Glynis said. “I don’t see how the two of ye can share the same blood.”

“I confess I find it surprising myself,” Hugh said, scratching his beard. “Loyalty is a flaw in a Highland chief— and it will cost Connor his life.”

Glynis turned to face Hugh. “His life?”

“Aye.” Hugh had the golden eyes of a wolf. “And you, lass, are the bait in my trap. The four of them will come together for ye, and I’ll be waiting.”

Hugh had planned it all along. He had lured Connor and the others to the outer isles for the very purpose of trapping them.

“This is the perfect place.” Hugh pointed to a small island in the loch as they sailed into the narrow channel between it and the shore. “I’ll have half my men hidden on the island, there, across from my camp. We’ll have two chains below the water between the island and the shore that we’ll pull up to trap their boat in the middle so they can’t escape.”

“They’re keen warriors—they’ll sense trouble,” she said, hoping it was true.

“They’ll sail right into the trap when they see ye tied to a log on the beach, half naked,” Hugh said, smiling to himself. “Ach, that’s sure to drive Alex blind with rage.”

“You’ve wasted your time. Alex won’t come for me,” she said, trying her best to keep her voice steady. “Ye know his reputation. He’s tired of me already.”

“If that’s the case, I’ll be so disappointed that I’ll give ye to Magnus—after my brothers have a turn.” Hugh laughed. “But then, I’d planned to do that in the end anyway.”

*  *  *

The words were important. In the blackness, Sorcha practiced them over and over in her head so she would not forget them. Then she whispered them, testing the sounds with her mouth.

She had almost forgotten the dark, dirty room with the big mice where her father found her. But the memory came back to her in this small, dark place and threatened to push the words out of her head again. She breathed in the smell of her mother in the clothes that surrounded her.

She heard voices, but they were not her father’s, so she covered her ears and mouthed the words until the voices went away. Still, the pounding of her heart made it hard to hear the words.

But she would be strong like the warrior queen, Scathach.

She would be strong like her mother.

CHAPTER 52

Your wife was taking the women out the back gate,” Tormond said. “I thought she was safe with the others.”

“Glynis is probably still hiding in the fields,” Ian said.

Tormond shook his head. “The woman Bessie said that Sorcha disappeared, and the mistress went back into the castle to find her.”

Nay. It can’t be that I’ve lost them both. As Alex’s gaze traveled over the bailey yard, he saw dead and injured men—but no women or children. He tried to think. Where could they be?

“We searched everywhere,” Tormond said.

“Then look again!” Alex ran to open storeroom doors along the wall. He found sacks of grain torn open, and the wine and ale barrels were all gone.

“Glynis! Sorcha!” he called again and again as he searched. He could not let himself consider that he might be looking for their bodies.

Mary, Mother of God, protect them. He made promises to God as he searched for them. Take me—just keep them safe.

Alex’s hands shook as he entered the keep. The weapons on the walls were gone. Tables were overturned. The hall was eerily quiet, except for the crockery crunching under his feet.

“Glynis! Sorcha!” The answering silence closed in on him.

His boots echoed on the stone steps as he climbed the stairs to the bedchambers above. Would he find them dead? His wife’s body, broken and used by the foul men who had destroyed their home? Alex did not think he was strong enough for that, but he kept walking.

When he pushed their bedchamber door, it creaked open slowly, revealing the room inch by inch. In contrast to the rest of the keep, the bedchamber was neat and tidy. It looked as if Glynis had just stepped out.

Except for her dirk lying in the middle of the floor.

Alex sank to his knees and picked it up. There was no blood on it, praise God. But if Glynis and Sorcha were not here, that meant the pirates and Magnus had taken them—and their purpose could only be evil. Alex had to find his wife and daughter before they were harmed, but he did not know where to look.

Alex pounded the floor with his fists. “Where did they take ye?” he shouted. “Where? Where?”

A creak right next to him brought him upright. When he saw his wee daughter standing in the chest holding the top up, Alex swept her up into his arms. He ran his hands over her to assure himself the fairies were not playing tricks on his eyes, and then he held her tightly against him. Sweet Jesus and all the angels, thank ye.

Alex thought he heard a small voice in his ear, saying, “Aye.”

He leaned back. “Was that you, Sorcha?”

She looked at him with her clear eyes and nodded. In the midst of a day of dread and despair, the miracle of hearing his daughter’s sweet voice for the first time overwhelmed him.