Alex lifted her onto a high rock.
“Stay here so I know where ye are,” he ordered. “I won’t let them get to ye.”
As Alex turned from her, he reached behind him for his claymore, and the steel of his blade whistled through the air. His battle cry “Fraoch!” thundered in her ears as he ran straight at the pirates coming toward them through the surf.
Without breaking his stride, Alex cut down the first two men. As he leaped over the blade of a third, he swung his claymore into the man’s side.
Glynis screamed as another pirate charged Alex before he could recover from his last swing with the big, two-handed sword. With flowing movements, Alex released one hand from his claymore, pulled his dirk from his belt, and plunged it into the man’s chest. His attacker sank to his knees with a cry, and his blood colored the water around him in rusty clouds.
Alex glanced over his shoulder at her as if to be sure none of the pirates had gotten past him. His eyes were murderous, and his every muscle taut and ready.
This was not the laughing man who sat beside Glynis watching seals a short time ago. Nay, this Alexander Bàn MacDonald was every inch a fearsome Highland warrior—and he was magnificent to behold.
Her father’s men were running the last few yards to join the fight, with Duncan MacDonald in the lead. The two groups crashed together with shouts and grunts and swords clanging.
Glynis could not take her eyes off the two MacDonald men. Despite the pirates’ greater number, the pair were lethal. They forced the pirates back, and back again, under a unified and ferocious assault. Although her father’s men fought well, they fought individually. The MacDonald warriors fought as a merciless unit.
Their violence had a grace and control that bespoke years of practice. After a time, she could catch some of the silent signals between them. You take this one, I’ll take that one. The pirates fell before them, one after another.
Something drew her attention from the fierce battle raging on the beach to the pirate ship. A man stood alone in the prow with his arms folded across his broad chest. He was staring at her. As their eyes locked across the distance, a cold shiver went up her spine.
She sensed this man meant her harm—and not just the harm he meant to anyone who crossed his path. She didn’t know why, but she felt as if he was fixing her in his mind, as if he had a particular, evil plan for her.
With his eyes still on her, the man put his fingers to his mouth and made a piercing whistle. The pirates on the beach ran to the boat and scrambled up the sides like rats.
Alex ran after them into the surf until he stood in water to his waist.
“Hugh Dubh MacDonald,” he shouted, waving his claymore in the air. “Come back and fight, ye miserable coward!”
“Tell my nephew I’ll see him dead,” the man in the prow shouted back. He ducked just as Alex’s dirk sailed through the air where his head had been.
While her father’s men congratulated themselves on their success in driving the pirates off and Duncan cleaned his sword, Alex stood in the water raining curses on the departing ship. Finally, Alex turned and strode through the surf toward the beach with the sun glinting on his hair and fire burning in his eyes.
“’Tis safe to go to the castle now, Mistress Glynis,” one of her father’s men said. “Let me help ye down.”
As the man reached up to grasp her about the waist, Alex’s shout stopped him.
“Take your hands off her!”
The guard jumped back and stared at Alex. Glynis’s heart was in her throat as Alex stormed up the beach dripping water and blood, looking like his Viking ancestors who once terrorized these coasts. His eyes bored into her as if no one else existed.
When Alex reached her, he clamped his hands around her waist and lifted her off the rock. His eyes never left her face as he slid her down his body, every inch of her rubbing against the scorching heat of his muscular frame. Glynis’s knees were weak before her feet touched the ground.
Alex’s eyes had a wild fierceness and a hunger that sent her pulse racing.
“Aye,” she whispered and held on as he leaned her backward.
* * *
Battle lust throbbed in Alex’s veins and left him hard. When he turned and saw Glynis on the rock, he would have killed to have her. He had never wanted a woman as much as he wanted Glynis MacNeil right now.
From the moment their bodies touched, he felt as if it had been ordained that they should join. Her body melded to his as if she had been made for him alone. Alex kissed her with all the lust pounding through him, his tongue thrusting, possessing. He had to have her.
He heard Duncan call his name through the haze of lust, but he didn’t give a damn. Nothing mattered but this woman’s sweet mouth on his. She was a wonder under his hands, responding with an awakening passion that had him yearning to lie her down and take her on the sand.
The sharp prick of a steel point in the middle of his back was a bit harder to ignore than Duncan.
“I appreciate ye saving my daughter from your miserable pirate relations,” the MacNeil said close to Alex’s ear. “But unless ye want to leave here with a wife, you’d best release her now.”
Alex wanted her so much that he could almost have agreed to a life in chains just to have her this once. But when Glynis’s eyes went wide with panic, he came to his senses. Slowly, he straightened and forced himself to release her.
Glynis swayed on her feet, as if her legs might not hold her. When Alex started to reach for her, her father gave him a quelling look and put a firm arm around her shoulders.
Alex glanced left and right, taking in the circle of men around them. What madness had taken hold of him to kiss the chieftain’s daughter—and to kiss her like that—in front of all of her father’s warriors? Alex hadn’t given a thought to the other men on the beach. Nay, he hadn’t even seen them.
Stealing a kiss from a willing lass was no grave offense, so the MacNeil probably wouldn’t kill him. On the other hand, his timing was verra poor, and any fool could see that he hadn’t meant to stop with the kiss.
“What do ye have to say for yourself, Alex Bàn MacDonald?” the MacNeil chieftain demanded.
“If I said I was sorry for kissing your daughter, we’d both know I was lying,” Alex said. Then he turned to Glynis, who looked as dazed as he felt. “I am sorry, lass, if I embarrassed ye.”
Alex wished he could speak with her without all the others watching, so he could ask her if she was all right. But if he did have Glynis MacNeil alone now, he knew damned well they wouldn’t waste the opportunity talking.
CHAPTER 4
DUNSCAITH CASTLE, ISLE OF SKYE
TWO MONTHS LATER
Alex waved to his cousin, the chieftain of the MacDonalds of Sleat, who was making his way down to the shore from Dunscaith Castle to meet him. Connor’s shoulder-length black hair blew behind him as he jumped from rock to rock.
“Have ye started to regret taking the chieftainship yet?” Alex asked, as Connor helped haul the boat up onto the beach.
“Every day,” Connor said with a dry laugh. “How do our clansmen on North Uist fare?”
“They’ve lost a good deal to the raiders, but they won’t starve,” Alex said. “The fishing is good, and the other supplies I delivered should see them through until the next harvest.”
After climbing up the hill, he and Connor crossed the narrow bridge to the castle, which was built on a rock off the headland.
“Ian and Duncan are here as well,” Connor said. “We have clan business to discuss.”
Inside, the hall had clean rushes, and the servants were sober. This was a far cry from the condition the castle had been in when they took it from Connor’s uncle Hugh. The cleanliness and order were the work of Duncan’s sister, Ilysa. Though they weren’t actually related, Ilysa was the closest thing Connor had to a female relative to perform the castle duties in place of a wife.