Page 33 of The Sinner
Why did she want to know about Duncan?
“Duncan is a fierce warrior,” he said, after a moment. “I’ve never seen him beaten. Not once.”
“I liked him,” she said. “He seems… dependable.”
Alex stifled a groan. “Aye, Duncan is exceedingly dependable. He’s steady, never wavers. Decides what he wants and that’s that.”
All the things that Alex was not.
“There is a good deal of mystery about Duncan’s birth,” Alex said. “And some say a bit of magic.”
“Ye must tell me,” Glynis said, turning wide eyes on him.
“When Duncan’s mother was a lass of sixteen, she was stolen from the beach one day,” Alex said, settling into his story. “A year later, she was returned to the same beach with a babe in her arms. That babe was Duncan.”
“Who took her?”
“His mother never breathed a word—not about what happened, or where she’d been, or who the father of her child was.” Alex paused. “Eight years later, it all happened again.”
“And she still hasn’t told?” Glynis was leaning so far out of her saddle that he feared she might fall off her horse.
"She took her secret to the grave.”
As they rode and he told his stories, Alex scanned the green hills sprinkled with summer flowers. The Campbell men should have turned back by now, but there were plenty of other dangerous men who traveled this trail through the mountains.
“Who is it ye must meet in Edinburgh before the end of the month?”
Alex winced. He had hoped she wasn’t listening when he mentioned that to Catherine.
“Ah, I see this is a story ye don’t wish to tell me,” Glynis said, raising her eyebrows. “Of course, now it is the only one I wish to hear.”
Alex rubbed his neck. He did not want to discuss the Countess or her letter with Glynis MacNeil.
“So who would be waiting for Alex Bàn MacDonald in Edinburgh?” She tapped her finger on her chin—it was a very pretty chin. “Definitely a woman.”
This lass, who was usually so serious, was teasing him. Alex might have enjoyed it for the sparkle in her eyes, if she had chosen a different subject.
“This particular woman must have something special ye want,” Glynis said, narrowing her eyes. “Not the same ‘reward’ Lady Catherine was offering, since ye clearly don’t need to travel all the way to Edinburgh for that.”
“All right, I’ll tell ye.” The tale he told about Sabine was short since he left out the bedding parts.
“A countess,” Glynis said, and there was a harder edge to her wit now. “I suppose that is even more impressive than an earl’s daughter.”
Alex never pretended to be other than what he was. Most women liked him, and he never cared much one way or the other whether they approved of him. And yet, it rankled like hell to have Glynis MacNeil think ill of him.
* * *
Glynis’s legs were so stiff when they finally stopped for the night that she could hardly walk. And yet, the hours had flown by. Alex Bàn MacDonald had a magical quality about him that she suspected drew females from age three to threescore. It wasn’t just his looks—though they were very fine indeed. When he was talking with you, he had a way of making you feel as if there was no one else in the world he’d rather be with.
Glynis realized that she was following Alex around the camp like a puppy and stopped herself. While he took care of the horses, she gathered dry moss and twigs for a fire.
“You’re a helpful lass.” Alex handed her the rolled blankets and squatted down to start the fire.
Glynis looked down at the blankets in her arms. Last night, Alex had been exhausted after rowing most of the night before. But now, with Alex wide awake and charm flowing from him like honey, the placement of the blankets seemed to take on more importance. How far apart should she spread them? On opposite sides of the fire, or side by side?
“Ye must be tired.” The glow of the sunset touched Alex’s hair as he smiled up at her. “Sit down, lass.”
She dropped down on a rock. Holding the blankets to her chest, she looked about her to avoid looking at him. Alex had chosen a lovely spot next to a loch surrounded by hills.
