Glynis gasped, and Alex’s eyes twinkled at her as he met her gaze across the fire.

“Muriel’s uncles gave chase, of course. The Campbells were far from home, and it looked as though Muriel’s clansmen would catch them. But the Campbells saw them coming and inverted a large iron kettle on the ground. Then one of the Campbell men ordered all seven of his sons to defend the kettle to the death, pretending wee Muriel was inside it.

“The seven sons fought hard, and every one of them died. When Muriel’s clansmen lifted the kettle to rescue her, they found nothing but the green grass on the ground. While they had been fighting the seven brothers, the rest of the Campbell party had escaped with the lass.”

“’Tis a long journey from Cawdor Castle to the Campbell lands,” one of the men around the campfire said. “Did wee Muriel survive?”

“Ye will have to decide that for yourselves,” Alex said. “When one of the Campbell warriors asked what would happen if the child died before she reached marriageable age, the chieftain said…”

Alex paused until someone called out, “Come, Alex, tell us what he said.”

“The chieftain said that the wee heiress would never die so long as a red-haired lass could be found on either side of Loch Awe—which, as ye know, is in the heart of Campbell territory.”

“Conniving bastard,” one man said amidst the laughter around the campfire.

“It was to prevent just such a scheme,” Alex said, lifting his finger, “that Muriel’s nursemaid had the foresight to bite off the end of the wee lass’s finger when she saw the Campbells burst out of the wood.”

“Ach, the poor child!” Bessie murmured beside Glynis.

“Now do ye suppose, that after the trouble the Campbells went through to get their hands on Muriel, they would let a missing joint on one wee finger come between them and all that land and wealth?”Alex let his gaze move slowly around the circle. “Who’s to say that they didn’t find another red-haired lass and bite off the end of her finger?”

There was a long silence around the campfire.

“But Muriel did live?” Glynis could not help asking.

“Most believe she did,” Alex said. “The red-haired lass was raised in the Campbell chieftain’s household, and on her twelfth birthday she was wed to the chieftain’s son John.”

That was young to wed, though it was legal age of consent.

“Ach, the poor thing must be miserable,” Glynis said.

“’Tis true that the pair was wed for the most practical of reasons,” Alex said, giving her a pointed look across the campfire. “That was five years ago, and by all accounts, they are a remarkably happy couple.”

Glynis did not mistake Alex’s meaning. Holding his gaze, she said, “Devoted to each other, no doubt.”

“Aye, despite the fact that the Campbells killed all of Muriel’s uncles after the marriage,” Alex said, then he shifted his gaze to the men around the fire. “The lesson, lads, is to avoid getting yourself between the Campbells and what they want.”

“I could listen to that man’s stories every night and never tire of them,” Bessie said with a long sigh.

Glynis could, as well—if she did not have to wonder who the storyteller was taking to bed afterward.

CHAPTER 28

Inveraray Castle, Argyll

Glynis forced herself to drag her gaze from the young red-haired woman’s little finger—which was missing the last joint—to her face. From the way Lady Muriel gazed up at her husband, it was obvious that she adored the man. What was a pleasant surprise was the way John Campbell’s hard expression softened when he looked at Muriel. Happiness radiated from them.

Glynis swallowed back the well of emotion choking her at the sight. Long ago, she had believed that she would find love like that when she wed. She had decided never to marry again, rather than accept something less a second time.

Against her will, her gaze traveled down the head table past Muriel and John to Archibald Campbell, who had become earl and chieftain when his father was killed at the Battle of Flodden. The Campbell chieftain was black-haired and broad-chested, and he had the piercing eyes of a hawk. It was not the chieftain, however, who drew her attention, but his sister.

Catherine Campbell sat on the other side of the chieftain sharing a plate of food with Alex. With her lush curves, creamy skin, and dark, luminous eyes, Catherine was the sort of woman every man lusted after. And anyone could see that she wanted Alex. Catherine was not a subtle woman.

Catherine’s deep, sensuous laugh seemed to flow below the noise in the hall straight into Glynis’s ears. Glynis stabbed her knife into a slab of pork and cut it into tiny bites for Sorcha, who sat beside her. She chewed her own food with such resolve that her jaw ached.

Glynis was so intent on keeping her gaze on the food before her that she was unaware of the hush in the hall until Sorcha poked her in the side. When she looked up, the only sound in the room was a furious whispering between the Campbell chieftain and his brother and sister, who sat on either side of him. The seat next to Catherine was empty.

“Glynis.”

Glynis jumped at the sound of Alex’s voice behind her.

He rested his hand on her shoulder and said close to her ear, “We are leaving the hall.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Shaggy MacLean has just come through the gate,” he said. “’Tis best we not get caught in the middle of this play.”

Alex did not wait for her to agree. He picked up Sorcha, pulled Glynis to her feet, and whisked them through a side door near the end of the head table. The door led into a narrow passageway between the castle’s stone wall and the decorative wood paneling of the interior wall of the hall.

“What is Shaggy doing here?” Glynis whispered.

“I believe he’s come to share the infinitely sad news of the accidental death of his beloved wife, Catherine, with her brothers.”

“Nay, he would not!” Glynis said.

“Come,” Alex said with a broad smile. “There’s a peephole behind the head table through which we can watch the fun.”

Peepholes in a castle were family secrets. Either Catherine Campbell had an appalling lack of discretion—or she was anticipating bringing Alex into the family.

“Who was that sitting next to ye?” Alex asked. “Ye seemed friendly.”

Glynis forgot she had even spoken to the man, and it took her a moment to recall his name. “Malcolm Campbell. He seemed a quiet, steady man.”

“Ye mean dull and tedious,” Alex said.

“I’m sure he’s a good man,” she said. “Still waters run deep.”

“Stagnant, more likely.” Alex turned to Sorcha and held his finger to his lips. “I’ll explain to ye later, sweet one.”

Alex came to a halt and pointed out two peepholes, close together. He put his arm around Glynys’s shoulders as they leaned down to look. She closed her eyes for a moment, enjoying his touch, before she remembered what she was supposed to be doing.

“I see him,” she whispered.

Shaggy was walking down the length of the great hall with head down, as if he could hardly bear the weight of his grief. Midway down the room, he staggered. And then he commenced to weeping and wailing, making the most wretched sound Glynis had ever heard.

“Ach, the man is playing the part for all he’s worth,” Alex said beside her.

Lady Catherine had left the table. Glynis remembered how much it had shaken her to see her former husband and couldn’t blame Catherine for wanting to avoid seeing Shaggy after what he’d done to her.

Shaggy’s shoulders shook as he paused to mop his face with a big handkerchief. He continued in this fashion, weeping and wailing, until he was a few feet in front of the chieftain’s high table.

Then, suddenly, he halted midstride. His mouth fell open, and his hand went to his heart. Glynis followed his wide-eyed stare and saw Catherine taking her place next to the Campbell chieftain.

Glynis heard Alex’s deep chuckle as Shaggy looked over his shoulder, evidently expecting the Campbell guards to converge on him.

“Will they kill him?” Glynis asked.

“The Campbells will observe the time-honored tradition of Highland hospitality,” Alex said, “and refrain from murdering Shaggy while he is a guest in their home.”

The Campbell chieftain gave one of the servants a slight nod, and the man guided Shaggy to a seat. While Shaggy looked ill, the Campbell siblings sat at the head table eating and drinking as if nothing was amiss. They were a cold-blooded lot.

“Sorcha is getting restless,” Alex said. “There will be nothing more to see tonight except for watching Shaggy sweat.”

Alex led Glynys out of the narrow corridor and up a back stairway.

“What will the Campbells do about Shaggy?” she asked.

“They’ll bide their time and toy with him,” Alex said. “Shaggy will never know what day they will strike. But one day he’ll be found dead with a dirk in his belly, and everyone will know it was a Campbell who put it there.”

Alex opened a door at the top of the stairs, and Glynis found herself outside the bedchamber she shared with Sorcha and Bessie.

“How is it that ye know about the peepholes and secret passageways in the Campbell stronghold?” she asked.

“People like to tell me secrets,” Alex said.

By people, he meant women. And in this particular instance, Lady Catherine Campbell.

Glynis helped Sorcha get ready for bed, and then Alex sat on the floor beside his daughter’s pallet and told her a long story, easily going back and forth from French to Gaelic. Though Glynis was familiar with the tale, Alex made it more exciting than her father’s seannachie ever had.

“She looks like a wee angel,” Glynis said when Sorcha had fallen asleep.