There was nothing Connor would like better than a close connection to the Campbells. And Catherine was clearly suggesting a close connection of some sort.
“But ye haven’t left Shaggy yet,” he said. “So let me get up.”
When she didn’t budge, Alex decided he would have to move her off him, but there seemed no safe place to put his hands.
“Let’s get naked, Alexander.” She leaned against him, pressing her full breasts against his chest, and wound her arms around his neck.
It was not like him to say nay to a beautiful woman who wanted him naked. He made a practice of following the old saying The oar that is close at hand, row with it.
With her rubbing against him, his body was in favor of giving in. And yet, he didn’t truly want Catherine. It wasn’t just that bedding the wife of his host was against one of his few principles, or that he felt used—though he did. Catherine wanted to punish her husband. And worse, he suspected she wanted to get caught.
She was a beautiful, willing woman. And yet, Alex couldn’t get rid of her fast enough to suit him. As he sat up he took hold of her waist and lifted her to the floor. There.
When he stood, Catherine came behind him and put her arms around his waist. Her hands roamed over his chest and hips, and it took him a moment too long to remember why this was a bad idea. By the time he did, she had tugged his shirt over his head.
“Catherine. I told ye I can’t do this.”
When he turned around and took his shirt from her, she pressed herself against him. Ach, Catherine would try a saint. As soon as he peeled her fingers from around his neck, they ended up on his arse.
She felt very, very good. As she kissed his chest, he closed his eyes and checked his resolve.
“Ye know ye want me,” she said against his skin.
“Not now, Catherine.” Gently, he pushed her away.
Before she could grab him again, Alex gathered the rest of his clothes from the bench. When he turned and started toward the door, it was already open. Oh, God, no.
CHAPTER 8
The clatter and voices from below grew muffled as Glynis climbed the circular stone stairs. She should find Alex in the hall and thank him for what he did, but she didn’t want to risk seeing Magnus again so soon. When she reached the third floor, she paused, trying to remember which bedchamber the Macleans usually set aside for the visiting women of high rank.
Since everyone else was in the hall for the midday meal, she didn’t have to worry about disturbing anyone, so she opened the door to her right. Glynis took one step inside and froze. Somewhere deep in the back of her mind, a voice was telling her to get out. But her feet would not obey.
Alexander Bàn MacDonald stood with his back to the door—and not a stitch on him. How she knew it was him from the back was a question she’d ask herself later. But one look at the blond hair, the broad shoulders, the long, muscular legs, and that perfect, manly arse, and Glynis knew for certain that this naked man was Alex.
A woman’s fingers were laced at the back of his neck. Glynis still could not move—her hand held the door latch as if melded to it. She forced her gaze to the floor, but there was nothing she could do to slow her heartbeat. When the woman gave a throaty laugh, Glynis could not help looking up again.
She could not breathe. The woman had her hands on Alex’s bare backside. Glynis imagined how his muscles would feel beneath her fingers.
“Not now, Catherine.” Alex’s voice penetrated her daze.
Glynis had to leave before Alex saw her. And still, she felt as if her feet were nailed to the floor.
Alex turned.
Ach, it was a sin for a man to be so tall and handsome. It wasn’t fair at all. Her eyes skimmed over him, slowly moving from his damp blond hair and striking face to his broad chest. She longed to feel the rough hair and hard muscles beneath her palms. And then her gaze fell lower still.
Her mouth fell open, and she felt an odd squeeze inside her as she stared at his fully erect shaft. Suddenly, she realized what she was doing, and she jerked her gaze back up to his face.
Alex had halted where he was. A dark smile played over his lips.
“Glynis.” He spoke her name slowly, as if tasting each letter. His voice was thick honey, golden like the rest of him.
Glynis was so bewitched that she had forgotten there was someone else in the room. When the woman came out from behind Alex and slipped her arm around his waist, Alex looked as startled as Glynis was.
The woman was Catherine Campbell, the Maclean chieftain’s wife. With her shining black hair tousled, her gown loosened to reveal the tops of her generous breasts, and her eyes dark with desire, she was breathtaking.
Alex called Glynis’s name as she ran down the stairs. His voice echoed off the stone walls and inside her head, but she did not stop. She ran out of the keep, across the yard, and out the gate. Only after she scrambled down to the shore did she finally stop. She sat on a rock and pressed her palm to her chest, trying to get her breath back. Her hands shook, and her heart pounded as if it would burst.
Why was she so upset? She hardly knew Alex MacDonald. And from what she did know about him, she shouldn’t have been surprised to find him in bed with a woman. Still, it had been a shock to see the pair of them like that. She covered her face, remembering how she had stared at him naked. Ach, she had stared at his manly parts! How could she?
Of course, it would be the most beautiful woman in all the Highlands who was in bed with Alex. But his host’s wife? Foolish, but Glynis had thought better of him than that.
* * *
Alex tried to find Glynis as soon as he had untangled himself from Catherine. Why he felt the need to explain himself to Glynis, he did not know. But for some reason, it was important to him that she not think he was even worse than he actually was.
He still hadn’t seen Glynis when he and Duncan entered the hall for supper. He scanned the room for her. He didn’t have much time left—he was leaving for Edinburgh in the morning.
“Who are ye looking for?” Duncan asked.
“No one,” Alex said.
“Hmmph,” Duncan grunted, but he let it pass. “These rebels are up to something. Donald Gallda and the other chieftains met this afternoon without any of their men present.”
Donald Gallda MacDonald of Lachalsh was the latest MacDonald to take up the leadership of the rebellion. The king had taken him to be raised in the Lowlands after his father’s rebellion, which was the reason Highlanders called him Donald Gallda, the Stranger.
“Let’s split up and see what we can find out,” Alex said.
“I’ll see if that drunken lot knows anything,” Duncan said with a nod toward a table of Maclean warriors. “I assume you’ll talk with the MacNeils.”
Before Alex could ask Duncan what he meant by that remark, Duncan was gone.
Alex found the MacNeil chieftain near the hearth. Judging from his hearty greeting, the man had forgiven Alex for that kiss on the beach.
“I have a warning for ye,” the MacNeil said below the noise of the hall. “No one but the chieftains is to know ahead of time, but we’re attacking Mingary Castle tomorrow.”
“That’s poking a stick in the hornet’s nest.” Mingary was held by the MacIains, who were close allies of the Crown. The Crown would be up in arms over this, which made it all the more important for Alex to get to Edinburgh to reassure the regent.
“If ye don’t want to be part of it, be gone by morning.” The MacNeil glanced about to be sure no one was listening. “They intend to give you and Duncan the choice to fight with us or be the first to die in the battle.”
If Connor’s close cousin and the captain of his guard participated in the attack, the Crown’s allies would hear of it, and their clan would be committed to the rebellion.