“Who is he?” Alex asked.

“The chieftain of Clanranald,” she said so low he could barely hear her. “Magnus, my former husband.”

“He looks as if he harbors a grudge against ye,” Alex said.

“He would have preferred I left our marriage for the grave.”

“You!” Magnus roared, as he pulled his claymore from his back.

“Take her.” Alex shoved Glynis toward Duncan and positioned himself a few paces in front of them, his stance wide and his sword ready.

“Watch yourself,” Duncan said in a low voice behind him. “This one knows how to fight.”

The Clanranald chieftain raised his claymore over his head and roared again as he ran headlong toward them. The blow was so strong that Alex felt the vibration to his feet.

“Ye forget you’re a guest here,” Alex grunted between their next exchange of blows.

The man’s eyes were wild with rage, and he swung his sword with the force of a boulder crashing down a cliff. For a man so heavy with muscle, he was quick, too. It took all of Alex’s skill and strength to force him toward the middle of the field. When Alex had him well away from the wall, he risked a glance to be sure Duncan had gotten Glynis inside the castle gate.

Diverting his attention for even a moment was a mistake. Alex had to drop to the ground to avoid the Clanranald chieftain’s next swing. He felt the wind of the blade in his hair. Before he could get to his feet, his opponent brought his sword straight down with a loud grunt. Alex rolled out of the way just before the blade thudded to the ground.

This was no practice fight—the Clanranald chieftain was trying to kill him.

The two of them crossed swords up and down the yard. Alex spun around and hit Magnus’s back so hard with the flat of his sword that he nearly knocked the chieftain off his feet. When a cheer went up, Alex became aware that a crowd had gathered to watch them.

But Alex wasn’t putting on a show this time. He was fighting for his life.

Sweat poured down his back as he alternately blocked Magnus’s sword and swung his own. At last, he sensed his opponent tiring. They leaned into each other, swords crossed, and faces inches apart.

“Only a weak man would let a lass upset him so much,” Alex taunted him.

“She doesn’t upset me,” Magnus hissed, his black eyes bulging with fury.

When they broke apart, Magnus came at him hard, but his swings were less controlled. Alex spun and danced around him, swinging again and again, wearing him down.

“I hear she cut your ballocks off,” Alex said just loud enough for Magnus to hear him, “and left ye less than a man.”

This time when Magnus charged him, Alex stepped aside—and stuck his foot out. The Clanranald chieftain crashed to the ground. In an instant, Alex sat astride his opponent’s back and held his head up by his hair. Duncan appeared with a bucket of water and drenched the Clanranald chieftain, who sputtered and coughed.

“Ye can thank me for saving ye from murdering a lass who doesn’t upset ye,” Alex said, still breathing hard. “And by the way, I believe we are cousins of some sort—my mother is a Clanranald.”

“Get off me!”

Alex leaned down to speak in the man’s ear. “Stay away from Glynis MacNeil if ye know what’s good for ye. Next time, I’ll kill ye—and now ye know I can do it.”

Magnus Clanranald was a chieftain and a man of pride. Threatening him was not wise, but it was necessary. Alex left the man with his face in the dirt.

“Let’s go for a swim,” Alex said, as he and Duncan started off the field. “I’d say we’re doing a fine job of following Connor’s orders to make friends among the rebel clans.”

“’Tis good to remind them that we MacDonalds know how to fight,” Duncan said. “Better that they respect us than like us.”

“I did refrain from killing the Clanranald chieftain,” Alex pointed out.

“That was probably a mistake,” Duncan said. “I was watching his clansmen while ye were fighting, and at least half of them were ready to thank ye for doing away with him.”

*  *  *

Glynis ignored Duncan’s order to go inside the keep and stood transfixed watching the fight through the open gate. Apparently, the MacDonald captain of the guard was used to being obeyed, for he left her without a backward glance.

“Ye don’t want to miss this fight!” someone shouted.

People jostled her as they pushed past to go out into the yard. Fortunately, no one seemed to realize the fight had anything to do with her. A large crowd encircled the two men who were clanking swords ferociously up and down the field.

“I don’t blame ye for watching. Alex MacDonald is sinfully handsome.”

Glynis started at the sound of a woman’s deep, rich voice beside her. She turned to find it belonged to the mysterious beauty, Lady Catherine Campbell, who was Shaggy Maclean’s wife. With her wavy dark hair and voluptuous curves, the woman exuded a sensuality that left men gasping. Catherine was every man’s dream—and she knew it.

Next to her, Glynis felt like a doll her father once made for her from sticks and frayed rope.

“Praise God,” Glynis said when Alex and Duncan left Magnus sprawled on the ground.

“I knew Alex would win,” Catherine said. “He has the twin gifts of skill and the devil’s own luck.”

When Magnus started to get up, Glynis picked up her skirts to go inside before he saw her again. But as she turned, the glint of sun hitting metal caught her eye. Magnus was pulling a short blade from his sleeve.

“Alex!” Glynis shouted.

The warning was unnecessary. Alex had read his man well and was already spinning around in a crouch. He moved so fast that it was difficult to tell exactly how he did it, but his boot met Magnus’s hand with such force that the dirk flew into the air.

A moment later, Magnus’s own men caught him under the arms and dragged him away. Attempting to stab another guest in the back was a serious breach of the rules of Highland hospitality.

Alex wiped his brow on his sleeve and headed down toward the water with Duncan. Glynis watched as the two men waded into the sea and dove under. When Alex emerged after his swim with his shirt clinging to his broad chest, and his hair slicked back and hanging to his shoulders, a small moan escaped her.

She had forgotten Catherine was still standing next to her until she spoke again.

“Save yourself some heartache—don’t set your sights on Alex MacDonald,” Catherine said. “You’re not his sort at all.”

“I’ve set my sights on no man,” Glynis said, feeling unreasonably annoyed by the remark. “And what do ye mean, I’m not his sort?”

“Ye may be twenty, but you’re still a girl,” Catherine said with a laugh in her voice. “A man like Alex needs a woman.”

CHAPTER 7

Alex looked for Glynis when he and Duncan entered the castle, thinking he deserved to collect a kiss from her after that fight. He was ready to risk it—though not in front of her father. But Glynis was not among the crowd congratulating him.

“That was some fine bladework,” Shaggy Maclean said, slapping Alex on his back.

Alex refrained from telling Shaggy to keep his goddamned hands off of him. He hadn’t forgotten Shaggy’s attempt to help Hugh take the chieftainship from Connor.

“I hear the men tested your mettle as well,” Shaggy said, and took his life in his hands by squeezing Duncan’s shoulder. “We need warriors like the two of ye fighting for the rebellion.”

“We’ll discuss it with our chieftain,” Duncan said.

He and Duncan excused themselves to rinse off the salt water from their swim at the well in the castle courtyard. Afterward, Alex climbed the stairs of the keep, looking for an empty chamber where he could stretch out away from the noise in the hall. He should ask his hostess, but he intended to avoid Catherine Campbell for as long as he could.

Alex stripped off his wet clothes and put on the dry shirt he had retrieved from their boat. His muscles ached pleasantly from being worked hard. With a sigh, he lay down on top of the bedclothes.

He had no idea how long he’d been sleeping when he awoke to the delicious sensation of a woman’s fingertips caressing his stomach. He smiled to himself and indulged in the completely inappropriate fantasy that it was Glynis MacNeil running her fingers over his skin.

Ah, that feels good, Glynis.

Long hair tickled his chest, and he imagined her thick chestnut-brown hair sliding over him. Aye.

It was bound to be a disappointment, but he supposed it was time to find out who this really was. When he slit open his eyes, Catherine Campbell was leaning over him with her hair spilling over his chest.

“I’d been watching for ye,” she said in her husky voice. “And now I’ve found ye.”

She had found him, indeed. Her hand was wrapped around his cock.

Catherine was a gorgeous woman, and he was tempted. God knew, his body was ready. But contrary to what many thought of him, Alex did abide by certain rules.

“I can’t do this, Catherine,” he said. “Not when I’m a guest in your husband’s home.”

“That didn’t trouble ye last time,” she said.

When she started moving her hand up his shaft, he held her wrist—no small act of will.

“I was a prisoner in Shaggy’s dungeon, not his guest,” he said. “The customary rules of courtesy did not apply.”

Catherine gave a throaty laugh. Alex tried hard not to notice that her skirts were hiked up to reveal lovely thighs—or that every time she leaned over him, her even lovelier breasts pressed against the low-cut bodice, as if begging to be released.

“Ye needn’t be concerned about Shaggy because I’m going to leave him,” Catherine said, and Alex’s throat went dry as she ran her hands from the sides of her breasts down to her hips and then the tops of her bare thighs. “Ye see, I need a man who can please me.”

There was nothing Connor would like better than a close connection to the Campbells. And Catherine was clearly suggesting a close connection of some sort.

“But ye haven’t left Shaggy yet,” he said. “So let me get up.”

When she didn’t budge, Alex decided he would have to move her off him, but there seemed no safe place to put his hands.

“Let’s get naked, Alexander.” She leaned against him, pressing her full breasts against his chest, and wound her arms around his neck.

It was not like him to say nay to a beautiful woman who wanted him naked. He made a practice of following the old saying The oar that is close at hand, row with it.

With her rubbing against him, his body was in favor of giving in. And yet, he didn’t truly want Catherine. It wasn’t just that bedding the wife of his host was against one of his few principles, or that he felt used—though he did. Catherine wanted to punish her husband. And worse, he suspected she wanted to get caught.

She was a beautiful, willing woman. And yet, Alex couldn’t get rid of her fast enough to suit him. As he sat up he took hold of her waist and lifted her to the floor. There.

When he stood, Catherine came behind him and put her arms around his waist. Her hands roamed over his chest and hips, and it took him a moment too long to remember why this was a bad idea. By the time he did, she had tugged his shirt over his head.

“Catherine. I told ye I can’t do this.”

When he turned around and took his shirt from her, she pressed herself against him. Ach, Catherine would try a saint. As soon as he peeled her fingers from around his neck, they ended up on his arse.

She felt very, very good. As she kissed his chest, he closed his eyes and checked his resolve.

“Ye know ye want me,” she said against his skin.

“Not now, Catherine.” Gently, he pushed her away.

Before she could grab him again, Alex gathered the rest of his clothes from the bench. When he turned and started toward the door, it was already open. Oh, God, no.

CHAPTER 8

The clatter and voices from below grew muffled as Glynis climbed the circular stone stairs. She should find Alex in the hall and thank him for what he did, but she didn’t want to risk seeing Magnus again so soon. When she reached the third floor, she paused, trying to remember which bedchamber the Macleans usually set aside for the visiting women of high rank.

Since everyone else was in the hall for the midday meal, she didn’t have to worry about disturbing anyone, so she opened the door to her right. Glynis took one step inside and froze. Somewhere deep in the back of her mind, a voice was telling her to get out. But her feet would not obey.

Alexander Bàn MacDonald stood with his back to the door—and not a stitch on him. How she knew it was him from the back was a question she’d ask herself later. But one look at the blond hair, the broad shoulders, the long, muscular legs, and that perfect, manly arse, and Glynis knew for certain that this naked man was Alex.