After ramming a hole in the boat with the shovel, Alex dove over the side. He was a strong swimmer, so the worst part of the long swim was the cold. Still, it seemed to take forever to reach shore. When he did, he was so cold he was shaking. He was barefoot and soaking wet, but he warmed up as he made the long walk back by starlight.
By the time he reached the cottage, the sky had the gray cast of predawn. Thankfully, the children—though Ùna was seventeen, Alex could not help thinking of her as a child—had a good fire going. Alex stood before it to dry his clothes as long as he dared.
“Ye did a good job cleaning up,” he said, as he put his boots on.
“I burned what I was wearing,” Ùna said.
“Good. Now get some rest.” They were both too pale and had dark circles under their eyes. “I’ll come back to check on ye tomorrow.”
Alex was exhausted when he returned to the castle just as dawn was breaking. The guards at the gate were men who had come with him from Skye. He suspected they might think he had been in some woman’s bed, as in former days, but he could not very well tell them he’d spent the night disposing of a body at sea—and he was too damned tired to think of a better explanation. He would set them straight in the morning.
Praise be to the saints that Glynis was a sound sleeper. All the same, before easing the bedchamber door open Alex took off his boots and then set them down carefully just inside the door. After hanging his damp clothes over a stool, Alex slipped under the bedclothes and wrapped himself around Glynis. After the hellish night, peacefulness settled over him, as it always did when he fell asleep with his wife in his arms.
* * *
Glynis lay on her side watching the pink dawn sky through the narrow window. Her husband’s arm felt heavy slung across her ribs. With every breath she took, the weight seemed to grow heavier and heavier until she felt as if she were wheezing. But she knew it was not his arm, but the weight on her heart that made it so hard to breathe.
She told herself not to rush to judgment. There could be a dozen reasons why Alex crept into bed with the dawn. And yet, she could think of only one. It throbbed in her head. Another woman, another woman.
She squeezed her eyes shut and prayed. Please, God, don’t let it be true.
If Alex had planned to meet a lover, that would explain why he was distracted all through supper last night. And then there was his vague explanation about needing to visit a tenant, something he never did in the evening. And his parting words: Don’t wait up.
Alex was sleeping like the dead—or like a man who had spent the night sating himself.
Glynis could not lie here a moment longer waiting for Alex to wake up and tell her where he’d been all night. When she threw off the bedclothes and sat up, the first thing she saw was his boots. Alex had stood them neatly by the door instead of tossing them on the floor by the bed as he always did.
Her husband had taken pains not to wake her when he came in.
Glynis was so upset that the thought of breakfast made her ill. After grabbing an oatcake for her pocket from the kitchen, she headed out for a walk on the beach. She bid good day to the men on guard as she started through the gate, then she stopped.
“Were ye here when my husband came in early this morning?” she asked one of the men. Her stomach sank as the guard looked away and shifted his weight from side to side.
“Aye,” the man said, then quickly added, “but he didn’t say where he’d been.”
Apparently, Alex did not need to say for the man to guess.
CHAPTER 43
Alex awoke with the sun shining on his face. He blinked to clear the images of the bloody cottage from his vision and looked about the empty bedchamber. Good God, how late had he slept?
He was not used to waking up without Glynis, and he didn’t like it. And where in the hell were his boots? He was on his knees looking under the bed before he remembered leaving them neatly by the door. He smiled thinking how that must have pleased his orderly wife.
His stomach rumbled, and his muscles ached as he drew a clean shirt over his head. It was a long swim last night, and he was starving.
When he went down to the hall, Sorcha ran across the room to him. It must be noon already, for everyone was sitting at the tables, waiting for him to start the midday meal—everyone, that is, except his wife.
He picked Sorcha up and rubbed her head with his knuckles. “Where’s your mother?”
Sorcha pointed in the direction of the beach.
“She must have lost track of time,” Alex said. “She does love her walks.”
The others were waiting to eat, and the men had work to do, so Alex sat down and signaled for the meal to begin. He missed having Glynis beside him at the table, but it was just as well. He was anxious to see how Seamus and Ùna were faring. As soon as he had seen them, he would find Glynis and explain the situation to her.
Poor Ùna. Alex hoped the lass was strong enough to recover from this horror. As he crossed the meadow to their cottage, he picked a few wildflowers for her. Most of the flowers were gone, but there were still some knapweed and devil’s bit blooming. When he reached the cottage and knocked, Ùna opened the door. She looked at the flowers he held out to her as if they were some strange gift from a fairy hill.
“Thank ye,” she finally said in a soft voice and took them.
Tears were streaming down her face. God help him, had the lass seen so little kindness in her young life that a handful of flowers could touch her so? Alex laid a hand on her shoulder and stepped inside.
“The cottage looks good,” he said. “Shame about the table and chairs. I’ll bring tools next time and fix them for ye.”
“’Tis no the first time they’ve been broken,” Seamus said.
“For now, the two of ye must act as if nothing unusual has happened,” he reminded them. “Seamus should come up to the castle as usual. Then, after a few days, ye can ask the other fishermen if they’ve seen your father’s boat. Do ye think ye can do that?”
“I can’t ask anyone about him,” Ùna said, shaking her head violently.
Seamus took his sister’s hand. “I’ll do the asking.”
Alex was starting to worry that the lass would give them away.
“I need to tell my wife the truth about what happened,” he said. “I can’t have secrets between us.”
“Don’t! Please!” Ùna said and backed away from him.
“Hush now, it’s all right,” Alex said, trying to calm her.
“I hate that ye know about it.” Her voice was shaking, and she was wringing her hands. “I can’t bear to have anyone else know. I can’t, I can’t!”
Alex could not risk having the lass fall apart—she might end up telling everyone about murdering her father, and then he’d have an even worse mess to clean up. And Glynis couldn’t lie to save her life. If he told her, the truth would be all over her face every time she looked at Seamus or his sister.
“All right, I won’t tell my wife just yet,” Alex said. “I’ll give ye a day to think on it, and then we’ll talk again.”
* * *
As Glynis paced the beach, she reminded herself that Alex had given her no cause to doubt him until now. His friendly, easy manner had deceived her at first, but beneath the charm and humor was a reliable man who took his responsibilities seriously. That was the reason his chieftain, who knew Alex as well as anyone, entrusted Dunfaileag Castle and the safety of their clansman on this island to him.
Of course, a man could be loyal to his chieftain and not to his wife.
Glynis pushed that thought aside. Alex had shown no signs he was tired of her yet—in bed or out of it. He would have a good explanation for where he was last night, and she’d be annoyed with herself for getting upset over nothing.