Alex wanted to get their business done and leave. “Our chieftain hopes to strengthen the friendship between our two clans and has sent us here on a mission of goodwill.”
The MacNeil kept glancing at the doorway, his face darker each time. Though their host didn’t appear to be listening to a word, Alex forged ahead.
“Our chieftain pledges to join ye in fighting the pirates who are harassing your shores,” Alex said.
That caught the MacNeil’s attention. “The worst of them is his own uncle, Hugh Dubh,” he said, using the nickname Black Hugh, given him for his black heart.
“Hugh is his half uncle,” Duncan put in, as if that explained it all. “Two of his other half uncles have joined the pirates as well.”
“How do I know these MacDonald pirates aren’t raping and pillaging the outer isles on your chieftain’s orders?” the MacNeil demanded.
This was precisely what Connor feared the other chieftains would believe.
“Because they’ve raided our own clansmen up on North Uist,” Alex said. “Since we can’t know when or where Hugh will attack, the best way to catch him is to find his camp. Have ye heard any rumors of where it might be?”
“They say Hugh Dubh has piles of gold hidden away in his camp,” one of the MacNeil’s look-alike daughters piped up, “and he has a sea monster that protects it.”
“But no one can find Hugh,” another girl added, fixing wide blue eyes on Alex, “because he can call up a sea mist by magic and disappear.”
“Then I’ll just look for a sea monster in the mist,” Alex said to the girls, and Duncan glared at him for causing another round of giggles.
“Enough of these foolish tales,” their father shouted at the girls, then turned back to Alex and Duncan. “’Tis true that Hugh’s ship does have a way of disappearing into the mists, and no one knows where his camp is.”
The MacNeil chief tilted his head back to take a long drink from his cup, then slammed it on the table, sputtering and choking.
Alex followed the direction of his gaze—and almost choked on his own ale when he saw the woman. Ach, the poor lass had suffered the worst case of pox Alex had ever seen. The afflicted woman crossed the room at a brisk pace, her gaze fixed on the floor. When she took the place at the end of the table next to Alex, he had to move over to make room for her. She was quite stout, though not in a pleasing sort of way.
Alex tried not to stare at the pockmarks when he turned to greet her. But he couldn’t help it. God’s bones, these weren’t old scars—the pox were still oozing! Blood never troubled him at all, of course, but he was a wee bit squeamish about seeping sores.
“They call me Alexander Bàn.” Alexander the Fair-Haired. He put on a bright smile and waited. When she kept her gaze on the table and didn’t respond, he asked, “And you are?”
“Glynis.”
Since she refused to look at him, Alex could stare freely. The longer he looked, the more certain he was that the pockmarks weren’t oozing—they were melting. Amusement tugged at the corners of his mouth.
“I confess, ye have me curious,” he said, leaning close to her ear. “What would cause a lass to give herself pockmarks?”
Glynis jerked her head up and stared at him. Despite the distracting red boils that were easing their way down her face, Alex couldn’t help noticing that she had beautiful gray eyes.
“’Tis unkind to poke fun at a lady’s unfortunate looks,” she said.
It was disconcerting to hear such a lovely voice come out of that alarming face. Alex let his gaze drift over her, taking in the graceful swan neck and the long, slender fingers clenching her wine cup.
“Your secret is safe with me, lass,” Alex said in a low voice. “But I suspect your family already knows it’s a disguise.”
He was hoping for a laugh, but he got none.
“Come,” he said, waggling his eyebrows at her. “Tell me why ye did it.”
She took a deep drink from her wine, then said, “So ye wouldn’t want to marry me, of course.”
Alex laughed. “I fear ye went to a good deal of trouble for no purpose, for I have no intention of leaving here with a wife. But does it happen to ye often that men see ye once and want to marry ye?”
“My father says men are fools for beauty, so I couldn’t take the risk.”
The woman said this with utter seriousness. Alex hadn’t been this amused in some time—and he was a man easily amused.
“No matter how lovely ye are beneath the padding and paste,” Alex said, “ye are quite safe from finding wedded bliss with me.”
She searched his face, as if trying to decide if she could believe him. The combination of her sober expression and the globs sliding down her face made it hard not to laugh, but he managed.
“My father was certain your new chieftain would want a marriage between our clans,” she said at last, “to show his goodwill after the trouble caused by the MacDonald pirates.”
“Your father isn’t far wrong,” Alex said. “But my chieftain, who is also my cousin and good friend, knows my feelings about matrimony.”
Alex realized he’d been so caught up in his conversation with this unusual lass that he’d been ignoring her father and the rest of the table. When he turned to join their conversation, however, he found that no one else was speaking. Every member of Glynis’s family was staring at them.
Alex guessed this was the first time Glynis had tried this particular method of thwarting a potential suitor.
Glynis nudged him. When he turned back to her, she nodded toward Duncan, who, as usual, was putting away astonishing quantities of food.
“What about your friend?” she asked in a low voice. “Is he in want of a wife?”
Duncan only wanted one woman. Unfortunately, that particular woman was living in Ireland with her husband.
“No, you’re safe from Duncan as well.”
Glynis dropped her shoulders and closed her eyes, as if he’d just told her that a loved one she’d feared dead had been found alive.
“’Tis a pleasure to talk with a woman who is almost as set against marriage as I am.” Alex lifted his cup to her. “To our escape from that blessèd union.”
Apparently Glynis couldn’t spare him a smile, but she did raise her cup to his.
“How could ye tell my gown was padded?” she asked.
“I pinched your behind.”
Her jaw dropped. “Ye wouldn’t dare.”
“Ach, of course I would,” he said, though he hadn’t. “And ye didn’t feel a thing.”
“How did ye know I didn’t feel it?” she asked.
“Well, it’s like this,” he said, leaning forward on his elbows. “A pinch earns a man either a slap or a wink, and ye gave me neither.”
Her laugh was all the more lovely for being unexpected.
“Ye are a devil,” she said and poked his arm with her finger.
That long, slender finger made him wonder what the rest of her looked like without the padding. He was a man of considerable imagination.
“Which do ye get more often, a wink or a slap?” she asked.
“’Tis always a wink, lass.”
Glynis laughed again and missed the startled looks her father and sisters gave her.
“Ye are a vain man, to be sure.” She took a drumstick from the platter as she spoke, and Alex realized he hadn’t taken a bite since she sat down.
“It’s just that I know women,” Alex explained, as he took a slab of roasted mutton with his knife. “So I can tell the ones who would welcome a pinch.”
Glynis pointed her drumstick at him. “Ye pinched me, and I didn’t want ye to.”
“Pinching your padding doesn’t count,” Alex said. “You’d wink if I pinched ye, Mistress Glynis. Ye may not know it yet, but I can tell.”
Instead of laughing and calling him vain again, as he’d hoped, her expression turned tense. “I don’t like the way my father looks.”
“How does he look to ye?” Alex asked.
“Hopeful.”
* * *
Alex and Duncan slept on the floor of the hall with a score of snoring MacNeils. At dawn, Alex awoke to the sound of soft footfalls crossing the floor. He rolled to the side and leaped to his feet, leaving his host kicking the empty space where Alex had been lying.