Margaret Mallory - The Sinner

They went inside, and Ilysa unloaded the basket of food she’d brought while Alex and Connor sat down with Teàrlag at her tiny table.

“Hush, they’ll be gone soon,” Teàrlag said to her cow, who was mooing in complaint on the other side of the half wall that divided the cottage. “Ilysa, get my whiskey. ’Tis no every day I have a visit from our chieftain.”

“We need your help with a letter,” Connor said after they’d downed their drinks.

Alex unfolded the parchment and held it flat on the table. Of course, the seer couldn’t read, but that wasn’t the point of bringing it.

“It’s from a woman who says she has a special gift for me,” Alex said. “Can ye tell me what it might be?”

Teàrlag cackled. “A special gift? Is that what they call it now?”

Ach, even the old seer had to joke.

Ilysa helped Teàrlag to the hearth, took a small bowl of herbs from the shelf, and tossed a pinch onto the fire. After breathing deeply from the burst of pungent smoke, the old seer shuffled back to her stool and placed her hands on the letter.

“I see three women, Alex Bàn MacDonald,” she said in a far-off voice.

Only three? Alex hardly needed a seer to tell him there were women in his future. In fact, Teàrlag had been seeing women in his future since he was twelve.

“On your journey, three women will call on ye for help, and ye must give it,” she said. “But beware! One brings danger and another deceit.”

Alex rarely refused a woman anything, so this did not concern him. And a little danger and deceit just made things interesting.

“What about the third lass?” he asked.

“Ach.” Tearlag gave him a sour look. “One has the power to fulfill your deepest desires.”

Alex grinned. “Danger, deceit, and deep desires—I’m looking forward to this journey.”

Teàrlag closed her eyes and rocked side to side, making a strange humming sound. Alex often wondered how much of Teàrlag’s performance was for show.

“Ye are a sinner, Alexander Bàn,” she called out. “And the time will come soon when ye will pay for your sins.”

Teàrlag was not the first to make this particular prediction. Alex was almost certain she was merely lecturing him now, as she had since he was a lad.

“What about the gift?” Connor asked.

Teàrlag was silent for so long that Alex thought she might have gone to sleep.

“I see brightness, like a moonbeam,” Teàrlag said, waving her hand in front of her face.

Alex snorted. A moonbeam. Ach, that would be a useful gift. Now, if it was a sword, well, a man could always use another good sword.

“’Tis no a sword,” Teàrlag said, snapping her eyes open. “This is an important gift, and ye must fetch it. Now go!”

They left Ilysa with Teàrlag, who was teaching her the old remedies. Duncan had forbidden his sister from training with the old seer, but Ilysa was one of the few creatures on God’s earth who was not intimidated by him.

“That was even stranger than usual,” Alex said, as soon as they were outside the cottage. “But I hope ye noticed that Teàrlag did not foresee a marriage for me.”

“I want Duncan looking for a wife as well while ye are at the rebel gathering,” Connor said, undeterred.

“He won’t,” Alex said. “Duncan still loves your sister.”

“Moira’s married,” Connor said. “’Tis time Duncan forgot her and found a wife.”

“He won’t.”

“We shall all do what we must to protect the clan,” Connor said.

Connor was sounding more like a chieftain all the time.

“And Alex, ye have a bad habit of attracting women ye shouldn’t,” Connor said. “Try not to make us any new enemies while you’re gone—we have enough to spare already.”

CHAPTER 6

DUART CASTLE, ISLE OF MULL

Glynis pulled the hood of her cloak low over her face as she and her father entered the castle’s courtyard, which was already crowded with guests. The MacNeils of Barra and the Macleans of Duart had a long friendship, and she had been to Duart Castle many times. But this was her first large clan gathering since the end of her marriage.

When the Maclean chieftain saw her father, he broke away from his other guests to greet them. “Chieftain MacNeil, I welcome ye once again to my home.”

Not many people made Glynis uneasy, but Lachlan Cattanach Maclean, otherwise known as Shaggy, was one. She was accustomed to fierce warriors, but Shaggy was unpredictable. In truth, she thought him a little mad.

“I had to leave my wife at home, as she is with child,” Glynis’s father said.

“A wife who does her duty by providing her husband with children,” Shaggy said, “is the only kind of wife worth keeping.”

Glynis wasn’t sure if Shaggy meant to insult her or his current wife, Catherine Campbell.

“As ye can see, I brought Glynis instead,” her father said. “I’m hoping to find her a new husband.”

Glynis ducked her head still lower, though what she wanted to do was kick her father.

“Your daughter has grown shy,” Shaggy said.

Her father coughed.

“Not beating up the lads like ye used to?” Shaggy said to her. “Just stabbing them, aye?”

“Only when provoked,” she murmured while Shaggy laughed, and her father rammed his elbow into her side.

“If my wife, the earl’s daughter ,” Shaggy said with sarcasm so heavy it scraped the floor, “would lower herself to greet my guests, I’m sure she would show ye the chamber set aside for the visiting lasses.”

“Glynis can find it,” her father said. “We’ll visit with the other guests in the hall first.”

Glynis had barely set foot in Duart Castle, and already she was counting the hours until they left. Once inside the keep, they stood at the entrance to the hall surveying the noisy room. Many clans were represented, judging by the number of men dressed in the saffron shirts and fine wool plaids of highborn clansmen.

“The young chieftain of the MacDonalds of Sleat is an elusive man,” her father said, his voice rasping with displeasure. “It doesn’t appear he has come.”

“You shouldn’t have either, da,” Glynis said. “Joining this rebellion was a mistake, and ye should quit it now.”

“Did I ask your advice, daughter? These are no matters for women to decide.”

“Please, da,” Glynis said, and pulled at his arm. “Don’t agree to do anything more.”

Preventing her father from becoming more deeply involved in this rebellion was the sole reason she’d agreed to come to the gathering without being bound and gagged.

“Your chances of catching a chieftain are poor now,” her father said, his eyes traveling the room. “If ye had proven yourself a good breeder, it might be different.”

Glynis told herself that her father didn’t realize how his harping on her failure to conceive was like a blade in her heart. It was the only way she could forgive him for it.

“Remember,” he said, “‘Honey may be sweet, but no one licks it off a briar.’”

Glynis sucked in her breath.

“What is it?” her father asked.

Her hands shook as she smoothed her skirts and tried to gather herself. Her former husband, Magnus Clanranald, the man who had humiliated and shamed her, was in the hall. She hadn’t laid eyes on him since the night she left him. As usual, Magnus was giving his full attention to the breasts of a buxom lass who was on his lap.

“I didn’t know Magnus would be here,” her father said, following her gaze.

Her face burned, and her eyes stung. She should have stuck her blade into Magnus’s black heart when she had the chance.

“I don’t believe ye,” she said. “Ye knew damned well Magnus would be here.”