“Dunscaith got its name from Scáthach, the warrior queen who had her legendary school of heroes on the verra spot where our chieftain’s castle now stands,” Alex said, speaking first in French for Sorcha and then in Gaelic. “Those mountains ye see beyond the castle are the Cuillins, which are named for Cúchulainn, the most famous of the heroes Scáthach trained.”
Glynis could not help smiling, for she recognized the start of one of his stories. She added Alex’s storytelling to her list of good things that the marriage brought her.
“Now, Scáthach would only train the bravest and most skilled young warriors. To prove himself worthy, a man first had to penetrate her fortress, which had many defenses, including magical ones. Cúchulainn traveled here from Ireland as a young man, after the father of the lass he loved said he would only agree to their marriage if Cúchulainn was trained as a warrior by Scáthach.
“Young Cúchulainn succeeded in getting inside the castle and was accepted by the warrior queen. Later, as part of his training, he helped Scáthach subdue a neighboring female chieftain who was causing Scáthach trouble. In the process of fulfilling this task, Cúchulainn had a child with the woman. And though his heart was always with the young lass he loved back in Ireland, he also became friendly with Scáthach’s daughter. Unfortunately, he had to kill the daughter’s husband in a duel, which I’m sure he regretted. I believe it was after the daughter that Cúchulainn became friendly with Scáthach herself.”
“What kind of story is this to tell to a wee girl?” Glynis interrupted.
“I can’t change the story,” Alex said, lifting his shoulders. “’Tis the legend of our castle.”
“The MacDonalds would have legends of philanderers and call them heroes,” Glynis said, folding her arms.
“Cúchulainn was no a married man at the time.” Alex cleared his throat and began again. “When Cúchulainn returned to Ireland, the lass’s father refused to let them marry, although Cúchulainn had fulfilled the condition. Ye see, the father never intended to allow the marriage and believed he had set an impossible condition. Well, that was a mistake for certain. Cúchulainn captured the father’s fortress, took the man’s treasure—and his life—and then he married his love.”
Glynis had been lost in the story and was startled when Alex stopped speaking. They were close enough to Dunscaith now that she could see the guards on the walls.
“I’ll tell ye more stories about Scáthach and Cúchulainn later,” Alex said to Sorcha. “But now, it’s time for ye to meet the Clan MacDonald.”
As the boat pulled beside the sea gate, Glynis stood to thank the Campbell men. They were anxious to return to their homes and had refused Alex’s offer of hospitality. One of them, however, insisted on carrying Bessie into the castle, as she was still quite ill from the journey.
Alex picked Sorcha up in one arm and held his other hand out to Glynis. When she looked into his grim face, her heart sank lower still.
“Don’t fret. They never thought I’d find a woman willing to put up with me,” Alex said, but his humor seemed forced. “They will all be verra pleased to see ye.”
If only Alex were pleased himself, she wouldn’t care about the rest of the MacDonalds. She felt as if she were a weight tied around his neck.
No sooner had they climbed up the steep stairs into the castle courtyard than Glynis was surrounded by MacDonalds. It seemed to her that all the MacDonald men were extraordinarily tall. She had to tilt her head back to breathe.
In the midst of this sea of strangers, she saw Duncan walking toward them. He nodded at her, and the corners of his mouth went up a fraction in what she took for a smile. On either side of Duncan were two dark-haired, handsome warriors who looked to be brothers.
“Come meet my cousins,” Alex said, pushing her forward with his hand at her back.
Before Alex could introduce her and Sorcha, Glynis heard a familiar bellow come from behind the gathered men. “Alexander Bàn MacDonald!”
Glynis put her hand to her forehead. Nay. That could not be her father.
“Alexander Bàn MacDonald!” This time, the roar cleared a path through the MacDonald warriors like Moses parting the Red Sea—and at the other end of it stood her father. As he strode toward them, Alex set Sorcha down behind him and took Glynis’s hand.
“After stealing my daughter from under my nose and dragging her to God knows where for weeks,” her father shouted, all red in the face, “ye will either be my son-in-law before the day is out, or you’ll be a dead man!”
Glynis flushed to her roots. Why was her father doing this?
“Da, Alex did no—,” she started to explain, but Alex cut her off.
“I beg your forgiveness for stealing your daughter from ye,” Alex said, putting his hand over his heart. “But sometimes a man must act boldly to get the woman he wants.”
Alex was taking the blame for all of this. She might have appreciated the gesture if he’d done it out of affection for her, rather than manly pride.
“I believe ye are aware that your daughter was… disinclined toward marriage,” Alex continued. “So I had no choice but to force her hand by kidnapping her.”
Ach, her father could not have looked more pleased. She felt like a hog caught between two cooks.
“I succeeded in persuading her to take me as her husband,” Alex said, “and we have made a marriage pledge to each other.”
“An alleged hand-fasting with just the two of ye under the stars will not do,” her father said, planting his hands on his hips. “Glynis is a chieftain’s daughter, no a penniless lass. Ye will do this proper, Alexander MacDonald, with a contract, a tochar, and pledges made before both clan chieftains.”
“That is precisely my desire as well, sir,” Alex said.
The two of them were having a fine time trying to outdo the other in their resolve to have her good and properly bound in marriage. Each had his reasons, which had nothing to do with her feelings on the matter.
“The MacDonald chieftain and I have already worked out the agreement,” her father said.
How did her father know she would be returning with Alex, when she herself had no idea? And, by the saints, how long had her father been waiting here? He should have gone home and pretended nothing was amiss. Ach, it was humiliating.
“I’ve been waiting here for weeks,” her father said, confirming her worst fear. “Let’s get this wedding under way!”
One of the two handsome, dark-haired warriors with Duncan stepped forward. “A thousand welcomes to you, Glynis, daughter of Gilleonan MacNeil of Barra,” he said. “I am Connor, chieftain of the MacDonalds of Sleat, and I am most happy to have ye here at Dunscaith Castle.”
After her father’s shouting, she appreciated the chieftain’s formal greeting and replied in kind. “A blessing on the house of the grandson of Hugh MacDonald and great-grandson of the Lord of the Isles.”
The chieftain gestured toward the other dark-haired warrior, who had the bluest eyes Glynis had ever seen. “This is Ian, who is my cousin as well as Alex’s.”
She was introduced in quick succession to a few dozen MacDonalds and then greeted by the few MacNeil men who were here with her father. Her head was spinning when two women had mercy on her and interrupted the greetings. One was small and brisk and dressed in a gown too large for her slender figure, and the other was a lovely redhead who carried two look-alike babes in her arms.
“Come with us.” The small woman smiled as she put her hand at Glynis’s back and took Sorcha’s hand. “I have a chamber ready for ye upstairs. I’ve already seen to your maid, the poor dear.”
Glynis let the two women lead her and Sorcha inside the keep and up the stairs to a tidy bedchamber that smelled of heather.
“We thought ye needed rescuing,” the redhead said, giving Glynis a wide smile. “I’m Sìleas, Ian’s wife.”