“It’s your wedding night,” Sileas said with a soft smile. “Sorcha will enjoy being with the twins.”
Glynis felt bereft without her. Alex’s mother came to sit beside her, which was unlikely to cheer her up. His mother must have been beautiful before lines of disappointment etched the skin around her eyes and mouth.
“Alex has a good heart,” his mother said, patting Glynis’s hand. “Unfortunately, he has bad blood from his father.”
His mother was slurring her words. Were all the MacDonalds drunkards?
“To the one man who could tame my wild daughter!” her father shouted across the room, as he lifted his cup high—proving that the MacDonalds had nothing on the MacNeils when it came to drink.
Glynis closed her eyes and wished she were anywhere but at her wedding.
Glynis could tell that the drunker the men became, the more colorful were their stories. Memories of her first wedding swirled through her head and weighed down on her chest. Magnus was not the sort of man to be sensitive about a lass’s first time, and drunk he was worse.
Glynis stood, intent on slipping out of the hall and up the stairs to the bedchamber Ilysa had prepared for them—and barring the door when she got there.
But before she took two steps, one of the men shouted, “Alex, your bride is tired of waiting for ye. Time for the bedding!”
CHAPTER 37
Alex did not remember his wedding night.
God help him, he was a bastard. A useless man. A poor excuse for a husband. And his head hurt like the devil. Oh, Jesus, take me now. What had he been thinking?
His mouth was dry, he had sand in his eyes, and he was still drunk, but he had this blinding headache. And worst of all was the sinking feeling in his stomach that came from knowing he had fooked up badly. As awful as he felt, he rolled over toward his bride, intending to make up for his lack of attention with a bout of morning lovemaking.
He stretched his arm out and felt around. But his bride was not in the bed.
Alex crawled out of bed and poured the pitcher of water into the basin. He splashed water on his face, and when that did not do the job, he stuck his head in the basin and closed his eyes. God’s bones, he felt ill. And it was going to get worse.
Alex spent the next hour searching the castle high and low for Glynis—while trying to avoid telling anyone that he had already lost his wife. He finally found her in one of the boats pulled up on the shore. She was sitting as straight as an arrow with her arms crossed over her chest, a grim look on her face, and her eyes fixed on the sea.
Glynis did not turn to look at him as he climbed into the boat.
“What are ye doing here?” he asked after a while.
“I’m waiting to leave,” she said. “I want to put our wedding night behind me as soon as possible.”
He had slept through his wedding night. God help him, because the bedding was the only part about being a husband that Alex had been certain he could do well.
Glynis just sat there with her arms folded and her mouth clamped shut again. At least she didn’t shout and throw things like his mother. He considered pointing out to her that their true wedding night had been after they had made their vows alone to each other—and he’d acquitted himself quite well. But he thought better of it.
Just when he thought she might never speak again, Glynis said, “Ye never told me where we will live.”
“Well, that is something I wanted to discuss with ye.”
“Don’t pretend I have a choice, and ye haven’t already decided,” she said with her gaze still fixed on the horizon.
He drew in a deep breath and reminded himself that she was used to having her opinions ignored. Perhaps this gave him an opportunity to make up lost ground.
“My father’s lands will be mine one day, so there is good reason for us to live there.” Alex thought her back went stiffer, though he didn’t see how that was possible. “But Connor needs a man to go to North Uist, where our clansmen have been living at the mercy of his pirating uncles.”
Alex wanted to go there. Fighting the pirates appealed to him, of course, and living with either of his parents was his own vision of hell. But even more than that, he wanted to take on the responsibility of securing North Uist for his clan.
“Before I left, I told Connor that when I returned I would go live on North Uist and bring order to the island,” he said. “But that was before I had a wife and daughter to consider. ’Tis far more dangerous there than on my father’s lands, so I’m inclined to ask Connor to send Duncan instead.”
Glynis slanted her eyes at him. “I’m no frail lass, like the sort ye knew at court or in France.”
“I didn’t say ye were, but ye are my responsibility now.”
“North Uist is a short sail from Barra, so I doubt it’s any more dangerous,” she said. “And if ye needed help fighting, my father would send men.”
If he had to have a wife, praise God she was a fearless lass. Still, he wanted to be honest with her about what awaited them there.
“Our clan has an old castle there, Dunfaileag, that should provide sufficient protection once it is repaired,” he said. “But it will take a good deal of work before it is either comfortable or secure.”
“I like to be busy,” she said. “And have ye forgotten I traveled to Edinburgh and back sleeping outdoors on the hard ground?”
“Nay, I haven’t forgotten a single night.” He met her eyes and gave her a smile that made her blush. He was glad for the opportunity to remind her that he knew how to please her under the blankets when he wasn’t dead drunk.
“I could see my family more often,” she said. “Please, Alex, I want to go.”
Praise God.
“My parents are expecting us, so we’ll have to pay them a visit on the way,” he said. “But then we’ll sail for North Uist.”
Glynis finally gave him a smile. They’d had a civil conversation and come to an agreement on an important matter without a fuss or fight. It bode well for the future.
Alex didn’t want to mention her former husband, but North Uist had one other advantage over Skye—it was further away from the Clanranald chieftain’s base at Castle Tioram.
“We took this boat from Hugh Dubh when we removed him from Dunscaith Castle,” Alex said, patting the rail. “How did ye know this was the one Connor wanted me to take?”
“Ilysa told me.”
Of course. Alex looked down the length of the boat. It was a full-size war galley, so Connor also had to give up the eighteen men it took to row it.
“I’ll need a war galley on North Uist,” Alex said, reconciling himself to it. He leaned his elbows on the rail to admire Shaggy’s boat, which was looking so pretty sitting out on the water. “Shame about losing that sweet little galley.”
“If I hear another word about that galley, which didn’t belong to ye in the first place,” Glynis said, “I swear I’ll set fire to it.”
And Alex had prided himself that he understood women. He had no idea why mention of Shaggy’s boat should upset her. Fortunately, he saw Ilysa making her way down to the shore with Sorcha and Bessie. Deciding it was best to let Glynis calm down, Alex went to meet them.
“I didn’t have a chance to tell ye before,” Ilysa said, when he reached them. “Teàrlag gave me a message for ye.”
“Wait in the boat for me, Sorcha.” Judging from past experience, Teàrlag’s message would not be something he wanted his daughter to hear. After Sorcha skipped off with Bessie, he said, “Teàrlag couldn’t wait to admonish me in person?”
“No admonishments this time,” Ilysa said, smiling. “She sends blessings on your marriage.”
“So that’s how ye knew to have enough food and drink on hand for a feast,” Alex said. “Thank ye for that.”
Connor had no notion of all that Ilysa did. Though she was young, Connor would never find a wife who could keep the castle half so well. Cha bhi fios aire math an tobair gus an tràigh e. The value of the well is not known until it goes dry.