Alex left her standing alone in the dark and stomped up the steps of the house. God in Heaven, what had he seen in such a woman?

*  *  *

Glynis was certain everyone in the hall was laughing at her behind their hands. All evening, that woman named Mary had been glancing and winking at Alex. Mary’s husband must be half blind, but there was nothing wrong with Glynis’s eyesight. When Alex and Mary both disappeared, Glynis should have had too much pride to follow them—but she simply could not stay in her seat. She had to know for certain that Alex had truly gone to meet a lover on the second night of their marriage.

When she stepped out into the vestibule and saw neither of them, her chest felt too tight. Though Glynis had feared Alex had left with the woman, she had wanted to be proven wrong. Still, she told herself she must not judge him without actually seeing him with the wretched woman. There were only two places one could go from the vestibule—outside or up the stairs to the bedchambers.

Glynis could not face finding them in a bedchamber, so she slipped out the front door, taking care to not make a sound. As she eased the door closed behind her, she heard a murmur of voices. She followed the sound down the steps to the corner of the house.

Her heart sank as she recognized the low rumble of Alex’s voice. Though he was speaking too low for her to make out his words, Glynis had no trouble hearing the woman.

“Where do ye want to meet, then?” Mary asked.

Nay, this could not be happening. Glynis squeezed her eyes shut and took openmouthed breaths, trying to gain control. Somehow, she had to go back inside without looking as if she’d had her guts sliced open and ripped from her body like a caught fish.

“I was made for trouble” was the last thing Glynis heard. The words rang in her ears as she stumbled blindly to the door.

Now she knew what Alex’s “usual sort” of woman was like—she was the kind who was soft and easy and incited a man’s lust.

A woman made for trouble.

CHAPTER 39

Alex returned to the hall to find his wife’s seat empty.

“Where is Glynis?” he asked his mother.

“She said Sorcha looked tired and took her upstairs,” his mother said. “I told her I’d be happy to take Sorcha home with me, but Glynis wouldn’t hear of it.”

Damn. Damn. Damn.

“Ye can’t leave as well when we have all these guests,” his mother whispered.

“Ye invited them, Mother, so ye can entertain them.”

Alex left without a backward glance and took the stairs two at a time. He expected to find Glynis tucking Sorcha into bed or telling her a story, but the room was black.

“Glynis, I know ye can’t be sleeping yet,” Alex said.

Glynis’s voice came out of the darkness. “Shhh. You’ll wake Sorcha.”

“Then come out and talk to me.”

“I have nothing to say to ye,” Glynis said. “Sorcha is in the bed with me, so ye can make yourself comfortable on the floor.”

“I apologize for last night,” he said in a low voice. “I wanted to make it up to ye tonight.”

“To me and who else?”

“I don’t deserve that,” he said. “I haven’t even had time to do anything I shouldn’t, even if I were inclined—which I’m not.”

“I don’t believe ye,” Glynis said. “And I don’t want to talk about it tonight.”

He tried to make Glynis see sense, but it was like bailing the sea with a creel. Eventually, he tired of talking to himself in the darkness, so he lay down on the cold floor and wrapped his plaid around himself. He was tempted to tell her there were other beds in this house that he wouldn’t be turned out of. But he thought of his parents’ vicious fights and bit his tongue.

Clearly, he wouldn’t be getting his deepest desires fulfilled tonight.

After tossing and turning on the hard floor all night, he awoke abruptly to a room filled with sunlight and sat up. The bed beside him was empty.

So, for the second morning of his marriage, Alex went looking for his wife. As he was crossing the hall, his mother poked her head out from behind the screen.

“Get your father,” she said. “I must speak with the two of ye alone.”

Being trapped alone with his mother and father was the last thing he needed right now. “Later, Mother. Have ye seen Glynis?”

“It’s about her that we need to speak,” she said. “This is important, Alex, so get your father. Now.”

His father was in his bedchamber—alone, for once. A short time later, the three of them were sitting at the small table that was behind the screen in the hall. Alex would rather be boiled in oil than sit with the two of them in a small space, but here he was.

His father leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms on his chest. In the surly tone he reserved for Alex’s mother, he said, “What is it, Mòrag?”

His mother opened her mouth to shout at him, but with an effort she stopped herself.

“Fergus, ye must remove every woman from this house who our son has bedded at one time or another.” His mother made this astonishing statement in a calm and reasonable voice, as if she were saying they were out of salt or needed another barrel of wine.

Alex and his father exchanged glances, but they were both too startled to say a word.

“Are ye men such fools that ye can’t see what is happening?” she asked.

“I’ve no idea what ye are talking about, Mother.”

“It comes as no surprise that your father is wholly lacking in consideration for a new bride,” his mother said. “But, Alex, can ye no see how it hurts Glynis to have these women about?”

“What is it ye think I’ve done?” Alex felt self-righteous, which was a rather new sensation for him. “I’ve not touched a woman since I was wed.” Hell, he had not even touched his wife.

“I am relieved to hear that,” his mother said, pressing her hand to her chest. “Then it isn’t too late to mend things with Glynis and convince her to stay with ye.”

Alex felt as if the ground were shifting under him. He knew Glynis was upset, but was she planning to leave him already?

“What are ye saying, Mòrag?” his father asked.

“That the two of ye are mistaken if ye don’t think these women have found ways to let Glynis know they’ve been in Alex’s bed before—and expect to be again,” she said, and Alex had the impression she was talking about herself as a young wife as much as she was about Glynis. “Ye don’t help matters, Alex, by being an even worse flirt than your father.”

“I joke with them,” he said, lifting his hands. “It means nothing.”

“And just how is Glynis supposed to know that?” his mother asked.

“I gave her my promise.”

“Just as every philandering husband in the Highlands has done before ye,” she said, “including her first husband and your father.”

“I will no change my household to suit ye, M—”

“Ye will do it, da,” Alex said, cutting his father off. Then he left them to find his wife.

*  *  *

Alex found Glynis walking alone on the beach. She was barefoot, his island lass. Seeing her like this, he felt a deep longing for her that had nothing to do with salvaging his pride or needing a mother for his daughter. Alex wanted this woman at his side, and to have her look up at him with a smile in her eyes.

When Glynis saw him, she stood still and waited for him, with the wind blowing her hair and skirts. She looked so pretty, but her eyes were sad.

“Sit with me?” he asked.

She gave him a tight nod and let him take her hand. He led her up the beach to sit in the tall grass where it was dry. Still holding her hand, he told her about his conversation with his mother and father.

“I’m going to try to explain this to ye and be truthful,” he said, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand, “though ye won’t like part of what I have to tell ye.”

“I want the truth,” she said.

“All right,” he said. “From the time I was a young lad, my father told me that men like us needed women like we need the sea—and that one woman would never do for us. So there were always women about my father’s house. Willing women, if ye catch my meaning.”

He glanced at Glynis. She was staring out to sea, but she was listening.

“That was just how it was,” he said. “I thought nothing I did before we wed should matter. But I didn’t realize how it might seem to ye, being here.”

Glynis was thoughtful for a long moment. Finally, she turned to him and said, “Would ye want to share a house with men I had bedded?”

“I had the impression there was only one man before me.” And if Alex had his way, that man would be weighed down with chains at the bottom of the sea. Speaking very carefully, he asked, “Have there been many?”

This, of all things, brought a smile to her face. She touched his arm, and it amazed him how the slight gesture could soften him. She had him in the palm of her hand. God help him if she ever knew it.

“There was only the one,” she said. “And he was worthless.”

Alex had the sense not to tell Glynis how much this pleased him, but he lifted her hand and pressed it to his lips. “We’ll leave for North Uist tomorrow, and we’ll make ourselves a different kind of home there.”

“For certain,” Glynis said, and gave a short laugh.

“I told my father he must change his household if he wants us to ever come here again.”

“He’ll do that?” she asked.

“I suspect my mother will do it for him.” Alex could almost hear her: I’ll stay just until Fergus’s whores can be replaced with decent clanswomen—preferably toothless, elderly ones. “She’s been wanting to do it for years.”

“I don’t want the women to be turned out with nowhere to go,” Glynis said.

Alex cupped her cheek with his hand. She was such a good woman—as Ilysa said, better than he deserved.