“Skye is an island surrounded by sea,” he said, stretching his arms out. “And it’s as beautiful as Heaven.”

She put her thumb in her mouth, but he could tell she was listening hard.

When he picked her up, he was unprepared for the swell of emotion that filled his chest at holding his wee daughter for the first time. Her long hair fell in tangles over his arm as she tilted her head back to examine him.

“If ye are wondering who I am,” he said, touching his finger to her wee nose. “I’m your father, lass.”

CHAPTER 24

A woman could do worse than James,” Glynis’s aunt said over breakfast. “He is a steady man, and you’d never need to fret about other women with him.”

That was for certain. “I couldn’t marry a man who hates the sea,” Glynis said, since they would not hear that she did not wish to marry at all. “We would never get along.”

Henry looked at her as if she were mad. “What has one got to do with the other?”

A vision of Alex jumping over a log brandishing his claymore in one hand and throwing his dirk with the other came to her. Even if she had wanted a husband, how could she let one of these pitiful men touch her after Alex?

“If ye don’t like James, what about Tim the Silversmith?” her aunt asked. “Ye must remember him—his was the third shop we visited yesterday.”

Unfortunately, she remembered the silversmith all too clearly.

“He’s shorter than I am.” It was the least of Glynis’s objections, but the first that burst out of her mouth.

“’Tis a shame ye are so tall,” Henry said, shaking his head as if it were a great misfortune. “But I don’t believe Tim minded.”

“He’s pale as a fish’s belly,” Glynis said. “And he has bad breath.”

“What is important is that he could support ye very well,” her aunt said.

Glynis was a chieftain’s daughter, and her father would provide a significant tochar, or dowry, if she should marry again. But she was becoming suspicious about the state of her Edinburgh relatives’ finances and decided not to enlighten them.

“There are hundreds of merchants in our grand city.” Henry got to his feet and stretched his stubby arms. “We’re bound to find one to your liking.”

“We are delighted to have ye visit us,” her aunt said after Henry left. “But what is your plan, child, if ye don’t intend to marry?”

Glynis had intended to be the spinster relative who grew old in the attic.

“Surely ye didn’t come here expecting to live with us forever?” her aunt asked, pinching her brows together.

Glynis sat up straight. In the Highlands, hospitality was a sacred duty. It was unthinkable to toss out any guest, let alone one who was also a close relation. One suffered with them as long as one had to.

“I apologize,” Glynis said, feeling her face go hot. “I did not realize I would be imposing.”

“All we want is for ye to be happy, but for that, a woman needs a husband,” her aunt said, giving her a sweet smile. “And the wealthier he is, the happier you’ll be.”

“Are ye expecting this wealthy husband to help support Father Thomas’s ambitions?” Glynis asked.

“That would be an added blessing, of course.” Her aunt patted her hand. “We don’t want to go to the moneylenders again.”

*  *  *

The bright sun hurt Claire’s eyes, but it felt good on her face. She could not remember the last time she had been outside. She was high above the people on the street, sitting on the shoulders of the man with the laughing eyes.

S-o-r-ch-a. She practiced the name the man had given her in her head. Grandmère had only called her Claire when she was angry—her real name was ma chère. But perhaps she was wrong. When Grandmère first gave her the doll, she had called Marie by different names until she had found the right one.

The man spoke to her in words that were familiar, and sometimes she tried to understand what he was saying. But she had grown accustomed to listening for other things in voices. She knew from the rise in the old woman’s voice when she was going to slap her.

But the man’s big, deep voice made her happy.

*  *  *

Alex carried the child on his shoulders to keep people from stepping on the wee thing.

“Ye see that water in the distance?” he asked, turning around and pointing. “That’s the Firth, where the boat ye came on sailed into Edinburgh. Did ye like sailing?”

When he looked up her, she nodded. Since the child needed to learn Gaelic, he said everything to her first in French and then in Gaelic.

“We are going to say good-bye to a friend of mine before we leave,” he said, starting up the hill again. “It won’t take long.”

As anxious as he was to leave the city, he needed to see that Glynis was happily settled with her aunt. At least that was what he was telling himself.

When they reached the house, he set Sorcha on her feet. It seemed much longer than a day since he had stood before this red door with Glynis. At his knock, the same maid as yesterday answered it.

“I’ve come to speak to Mistress Glyn—”

He stopped when he saw Glynis descending the stair, looking as fresh as a spring breeze in a pale green gown. The only sign of surprise she showed at seeing him with a wee girl holding his hand was a slight widening of her eyes.

“Glynis, this is my daughter.”

Alex waited for her to call him a philanderer, a sinner, or worse.

“I can see that she is,” Glynis said with a light in her eyes. She leaned down with a warm smile and touched Sorcha’s shoulder. “What’s your name, child?”

“She doesn’t speak,” he said.

“She has no Gaelic?” Glynis asked, looking up at him.

“Her mother was French, so she has no Gaelic,” he said. “But what I meant is that she has not yet said a word of any kind.”

“Where is her mother?” Glynis asked in a soft voice.

“On her way back to France.”

Glynis met his gaze, and he was grateful she asked for no further explanation.

“I thought perhaps your family here might know of a good woman I could hire to look after my daughter on the journey home,” he said. “I haven’t the slightest notion how to take care of a bairn—especially a lass.”

“I could do it,” Glynis said in a rush.

Alex stared at her, wondering if he had heard her correctly.

“I have three younger sisters, so I know how,” she said, her voice unnaturally high. “And ye wouldn’t have to pay me.”

It was one shock too many before breakfast. “What are ye saying? Have pity on a hungry man and speak plainly.”

“I feel foolish after all the trouble I put ye to bringing me all the way here to Edinburgh,” she said.

“I enjoyed it quite thoroughly,” he said, causing her to blush. “But ye just arrived. Why would ye be wanting to go back so soon?”

“I didn’t know what it would be like here, with all the people and the noise and so far from the sea,” she said, worrying the skirt of her gown in her hands. “And my mother’s family is dead set on wedding me to a merchant.”

“To a merchant? Are they mad?”

“Nay, but they are short of money.” Glynis gripped his arm and looked up at him in a most appealing way. “I’d rather be unhappy at home than unhappy here. Please, Alex, don’t leave me in this city.”

“Get your things,” he said.

“Thank ye.” Glynis threw her arms around his neck. Too soon, she released him.

“Best not tell your relatives,” he said, catching her arm before she could fly up the stairs. “We don’t want an argument.”

He and Glynis both turned to look at the maid, who was still standing behind Glynis.

“I’ll tell ye the same as I told your mother,” the woman said. “You’ll find no happiness in this house, so go with your handsome Highlander as quick as ye can.”

“Bless ye, Bessie,” Glynis said, picking up her skirts and heading toward the stairs.

“But take me with ye, mistress,” the maid said.

The two women turned pleading eyes on Alex.

“Can Bessie come? Please?” Glynis asked. “It won’t be proper if I don’t have a maid with me when I arrive home. We can tell my father that she traveled with us both going and coming.”

“Aye.” God help him, he’d be traveling with three females now. He did not point out that a serving woman was what he’d asked for in the first place.

As Alex watched the two women disappear up the stairs, he felt an unfamiliar tug on his hand and looked down. By the saints, he had forgotten his wee daughter already. What kind of a father was he going to make?

Sorcha gave his hand another tug and pointed at the stairs, as if asking for an explanation.

“Mistress Glynis is coming with us,” he said. “She’ll take care of ye.”

His daughter gave him the faintest of smiles—her first—and it made his heart go all soft like butter on a hot day.

“So ye like Mistress Glynis?” he asked her.

Sorcha put her thumb in her mouth and gave him a solemn nod.

Alex sighed. “I do as well.”

CHAPTER 25

Alex was in the stable behind the tavern getting the horses when he heard running footsteps behind him. But it was only the tavern keeper’s daughter, so he put away his dirk. She was a stout lass of seventeen or so, and it took her a moment to get her breath.

“Were ye able to find a clean gown for the wee lass with that coin I gave ye?” he asked.

Alex was relieved that Glynis had insisted on giving the child a bath at the tavern because he never would have attempted it himself. Sorcha was so filthy, however, that he had planned to dunk her in the first loch they came to.

“I found a gown, but that’s not what I’ve come to tell ye,” the young woman said between gasps. “There are royal guards inside asking for ye. I told them we hadn’t seen ye since yesterday, but they won’t leave, and they’re watching the door.”

Damn, they’d come early. The regent was anxious to lock him away again.

“Can ye bring my friends out the back without the guards seeing ye?” he asked. When the young woman gave him an earnest nod, he took her by the shoulders and kissed her cheek. “Thank ye. This is kind of ye.”

The lass blushed almost purple and hurried back inside.

A short time later, Alex and his three female charges rode out the back with the guards none the wiser.

“See how well Sorcha sits on a horse,” Alex said, as he held his daughter in front of him on Rosebud. “She must get that from me—’tis in the blood, ye know.”

Glynis gave him an indulgent smile. She was looking as pretty as could be on Buttercup.

“Relax, Bessie,” Alex told the maid because she was sitting as stiff as poker behind Glynis and holding her in a death grip.

“Ye call this enormous beast with the devil eyes Buttercup?” Bessie asked. “It tried to bite me!”

“Ach, ye are upsetting her.” He reached over and patted Buttercup.

Glynis covered her mouth to stifle a laugh.

“Those are D’Arcy’s men,” Alex said, pointing at the group gathered in front of the palace gate. He wished they were meeting anywhere but here, but he didn’t think the regent’s men would try to take him in front of D’Arcy.

D’Arcy spotted him and rode toward them, his white scarf blowing in the breeze.

“I feared you would not be joining us.” D’Arcy flashed a white-toothed smile at Glynis and Sorcha. “Are these lovely ladies here to see us off?”

“They are traveling with me,” Alex said.

“What a delightful surprise,” D’Arcy said, his gaze lingering on Glynis.

Alex turned to Glynis. “I apologize for speaking in French, but I don’t know if my friend here speaks anything else.”

“Is that Gaelic you are speaking to this lovely lady?” D’Arcy said. “I can’t speak Gaelic, but I know a bit of Scots.”

“She doesn’t,” Alex lied. “Shame, but I fear ye won’t be able to speak to her at all.”

“With women, it is possible to speak with only the eyes,” D’Arcy said, his gaze never leaving her face.

Ach, Frenchmen.

“What did he say?” Glynis asked.

“He wants to know where the privy is,” Alex said. “He needs to take a piss before we leave.”

Glynis’s eyebrows shot up, and she flushed a becoming shade of pink.

“What is the lady’s name?” D’Arcy asked.

“Glynis MacNeil.” Alex begrudged him the information. But since they would be traveling together all the way to the Campbell stronghold of Inveraray, he could not very well keep her name a secret.

“Is she yours?” D’arcy asked.

“Nay, she’s no mine.” Then, for no good reason, he added, “Not precisely.”

Why was he doing this? There could be no better man for Glynis. Lord Antoine d’Arcy was a champion knight who held important titles and lands in France and was closely connected to Scotland’s new regent. In addition, he had the personal virtues of being brave, honest, and conscientious. It was those qualities—rather than that ridiculous white scarf—that had earned D’Arcy the nickname the White Knight.