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Synopsis
Alex MacDonald is known for his skill as a warrior, his prowess with women, and his vow to never take a wife. But now his chieftain has asked him to make the ultimate sacrifice: wed Glynis MacNeil, a lass famed throughout the Highlands for her exquisite beauty-and defiant ways.
Familiar with heartbreak, Glynis refuses to fall for another handsome scoundrel. Yet when Alex's past sins force an unlikely union, Glynis gives in to temptation and becomes his wife. Will their newfound passion be strong enough to fight the enemy that threatens their home, their clan, and their very lives?
Release date: November 1, 2011
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Print pages: 416
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The Sinner
Margaret Mallory
“4 ½ stars! Top Pick! Mallory imbues history with a life of its own, creating a deeply moving story. Her characters are vibrantly alive and full of emotional depth, each with their own realistic flaws. Her sensuous and highly passionate tale grabs the reader and doesn’t let go.”
—RT Book Reviews
“Masterfully written…Mallory has created a series that every romance reader must read. The Guardian is truly a sizzling romance with high-impact adventure that captures the Scotland readers long for. The characters created by Mallory have found places in my heart and I am impatiently awaiting the next of this spectacular series!”
—FreshFiction.com
“What is more tantalizing than a quartet of sexy men in plaids? The Guardian is very much a romance with plenty of adventure wrapped around it. Don’t miss this terrific opening shot in a promising new series.”
—RomRevToday.com
“A must-read for all historical and highlander fans…Ms. Mallory weaves a gripping story of heartbreak, intrigue, and trust…This one is a keeper.”
—TheRomanceReadersConnection.com
“10 Stars! Top 20 Reviewed! Exquisite…An extraordinary medieval romance…Mallory has brilliantly set the stage for the next of three books…passionate characters and the women who love them [leap] off the pages…a true keeper to devour happily, knowing it remains on your shelf or in your e-reader to be re-read and savored over and over again!”
—TheSeasonforRomance.com
“A joyfully recommended read!…Vividly fierce, phenomenal…Breathtaking is not a good enough description…I’ve read a couple of Highlander books but none of them ever spoke to me the way The Guardian does!”
—JoyfullyReviewed.com
“I have always enjoyed [Mallory’s] rich, lush historicals… The romance community now has a new star in Scottish tales…Characters that tug at the deepest corners of your heart, a love story that seeps into the very depth of your core, and a multiple sigh-worthy ending that sings to your spirit are all combined in the magic of this wonderful book. Bravo, Margaret Mallory!”
—TheRomanceDish.com
“An amazing introduction to what is fated to become a dangerously addictive series. With characters capable of breaching the most impenetrable of readers’ defenses, riveting story lines (and even more intriguing subplots), quick, witty dialogue, as well as wild sexual tension—the only thing readers will crave, is more.”
—RomanceJunkiesReviews.com
“Top Pick! As in the previous book in her All the King’s Men series, Mallory brings history to life, creating dramatic and gut-wrenching stories. Her characters are incredibly alive and readers will feel and believe their sensual and passionate adventures. Mallory raises the genre to new levels.”
—RT Book Reviews
“An amazing story…a series that readers won’t want to miss…Filled with hot romance as well as adventure with a fascinating historical background.”
—RomRevToday.com
“4 Stars! A riveting story…Such depth and sensuality are a rare treat.”
—RT Book Reviews
“Fascinating…An excellent historical romance. Ms. Mallory gives us amazingly vivid details of the characters, romance, and intrigue of England. You’re not just reading a novel, you are stepping into the story and feeling all the emotions of each character…Knight of Pleasure is amazing and I highly recommend it.”
—TheRomanceReadersConnection.com
“An absolute delight…captivating.”
—FreshFiction.com
“Spellbinding! Few writers share Margaret Mallory’s talent for bringing history to vivid, pulsing life.”
—Virginia Henley, New York Times bestsellingauthor of The Decadent Duke
“An impressive debut…Margaret Mallory is a star in the making.”
—Mary Balogh, New York Times bestsellingauthor of At Last Comes Love
“5 Stars! Amazing…The fifteenth century came alive…Knight of Desire is the first in the All the King’s Men series and what a way to start it off.”
—CoffeeTimeRomance.com
“A fast-paced tale of romance and intrigue that will sweep you along and have you rooting for William and his fair Catherine to fight their way to love at last.”
—Candace Camp, New York Times bestsellingauthor of The Courtship Dance
“4 Stars! Mallory’s debut is impressive. She breathes life into major historical characters…in a dramatic romance.”
—RT Book Reviews
CHAPTER 1
ON THE OPPOSITE COAST OF SCOTLANDTHE NEXT DAY
Ye are a devil, Alex Bàn MacDonald!”
Alex caught the boot the woman threw at his head. As he paused on the stairs to put it on, his other boot hit the stone wall behind him and bounced down the staircase.
“Janet, can I have my shirt and plaid as well, please?” he called up.
Her dark hair spilled over her shoulder as she leaned over the stairs to glare at him. “My name is not Janet!”
Damn, Janet was the last one.
“Sorry, Mary,” he said. “I’m sure ye don’t want anyone seeing me leave your house bare-arsed, so be a sweet lass and toss my clothes down.”
“Ye don’t even know why I’m angry, do ye?”
The woman’s voice had a catch in it now that made him nervous. God, he hated it when they cried. Alex considered leaving without his clothes.
“I must go,” he said. “My friend is here with the boat, waiting.”
“Ye aren’t coming back, are ye?” Mary said.
He shouldn’t have come in the first place. He’d avoided Mary for weeks, but she’d found him at his father’s house last night, drunk and desperate. After a week with his parents, he would have followed a demon to hell to escape.
“I was going to leave my husband for ye,” Mary called down.
“For God’s sake, lass, ye don’t want to do that!” Alex bit his tongue to keep from reminding her that she was the one who had started the affair—and she’d made it very clear at the time that all she wanted from him was between his legs. “I’m sure your husband is a fine man.”
“He’s an idiot!”
“Idiot or no, he won’t like finding another man’s clothes in your bedchamber,” Alex said, talking to her in the even tones he used to calm horses. “So please, Mary, let me have them so I can go.”
“Ye will regret this, Alexander Bàn MacDonald!”
He already did.
His shirt and plaid floated down to him as the door slammed upstairs. As he dressed, Alex had a sour feeling in his belly. Most of the time, he managed to part on good terms with the women he bedded. He liked them, they liked him, and they understood it was only meant to be a bit of fun. But he had misjudged this one.
“Alex!” Through the open window, he heard Duncan calling from the shore. “There’s a man walking up the path. Get your arse in the boat!”
Alex climbed out the window and ran for the boat. Not his finest moment. He took the rudder while Duncan raised the sail, and they headed for open water.
Duncan was in a foul mood—but then he often was. He stomped around the boat, making sure everything was tied down, which it already was.
“Are ye no tired of these antics with women?” Duncan finally said. “God knows I am.”
Alex was weary to death of it, but he wasn’t about to admit that. Instead, he said, “This was easier in France.”
Alex and Duncan—along with Alex’s cousins, Connor and Ian—had spent five years in France, fighting and swiving. It had been grand. Once a French noblewoman gave her husband an heir, no one got too excited if she discreetly took a lover. Ach, it was almost expected. In truth, Highlanders were no more likely to keep their vows, but bloodshed and clan wars were a too-frequent consequence.
“How did ye know where to find me?” Alex asked when his curiosity got the better of him.
“I saw Mary drag your drunken arse off last night just as I arrived,” Duncan said. “Ye didn’t look worth the trouble, but then, she doesn’t strike me as particular.”
Alex fixed his gaze on the horizon as they sailed past his parents’ houses. When his mother left his father, she had only gone across the inlet, where she could watch him. His father was no better—both paid servants in each other’s houses to spy for them.
“Why does my mother insist on returning to my father’s house when I visit?” Alex asked, though he didn’t expect an answer. “My ears are still ringing from the shouting.”
When they reached open water, Alex stretched out to enjoy the sun and sea breeze. They had a long sail ahead of them, from their home island of Skye to the outer isles.
“Remind me how Connor convinced us to pay a visit on the MacNeils,” Alex said.
“We volunteered,” Duncan said.
“Ach, that was foolish,” Alex said, “when we know the MacNeil chieftain is looking for husbands for his daughters.”
“Aye.”
Alex opened one eye to look at his big, red-haired friend. “Were we that drunk?”
“Aye,” Duncan said with one of his rare smiles.
Duncan was a good man, if a wee bit dour these days—which just went to show that love could bring the strongest of men to their knees.
“And he didn’t tell us that he wanted us to visit the MacNeils while we’re in the outer isles,” Duncan said, “until after he’d lured us in with the prospect of chasing pirates.”
“Since Connor became chieftain,” Alex said, “I swear he grows more devious by the day.”
“Ye could make this easy by marrying one of the MacNeils’ daughters,” Duncan said, the corner of his mouth quirking up.
“I see ye do remember how to make a joke.” Not many men teased Duncan, so Alex did his best to make up for it.
“Ye know that’s what Connor wants,” Duncan said. “He has no brothers to make marriage alliances with other clans—so a cousin will have to do. If ye don’t like one of the MacNeil lasses, there are plenty of other chieftains’ daughters.”
“I’d take a blade for Connor,” Alex said, losing his humor, “but I’ll no take a wife for him.”
“Connor has a way of getting what he wants,” Duncan said. “I wager you’ll be wed within half a year.”
Alex sat up and grinned at his friend. “What shall we wager?”
“This boat,” Duncan said.
“Perfect.” Alex loved this sleek little galley that sliced through the water like a fish. They had been arguing over who had the better right to it ever since they had stolen it from Shaggy Maclean. “You’re going to miss this sweet boat.”
* * *
“Can ye hurry with your stitching?” Glynis asked, as she peered out her window. “Their boat is nearly at the sea gate.”
“Your father is going to murder ye for this.” Old Molly’s face was grim, but her needle flew along the seam at Glynis’s waist.
“Better dead than wed again,” Glynis said under her breath.
“This trick will work but once, if it works at all.” Old Molly paused to tie a knot and rethread the needle. “’Tis a losing game you’re playing, lass.”
Glynis crossed her arms. “I won’t let him marry me off again.”
“Your da is just as stubborn as you, and he’s the chieftain.” Old Molly looked up from her sewing to fix her filmy eyes on Glynis. “Not all men are as blackhearted as your first husband.”
“Perhaps not,” Glynis said, though she was far from convinced. “But the MacDonalds of Sleat are known philanderers. I swear on my grandmother’s grave, I’ll no take one of them.”
“Beware of what ye swear, lass,” Old Molly said. “I knew your grandmother well, and I’d hate for ye to cause that good woman to turn in her grave.”
“Ouch!” Glynis yelped when a loud banging caused Old Molly to stick the needle into her side.
“Get yourself down to the hall, Glynis!” her father shouted from the other side of the door. “Our guests are arriving.”
“I’m almost ready, da,” Glynis called out, and sidled over to the door.
“Don’t think ye can fool me with a sweet voice,” he said. “What are ye doing in there?”
Glynis risked opening the door a crack and stuck her face in it. Her father, a big, barrel-chested man, was looking as foul-tempered as his reputation.
“Ye said I should dress so these damned MacDonalds won’t soon forget me,” she said. “That takes a woman time, da.”
He narrowed his eyes at her, but he let it pass. After all these years of living with a wife and daughters, females were still largely a mystery to her father. In this war with him, Glynis was willing to use whatever small advantage she had.
“Their new chieftain didn’t come himself,” he said, in what for him was a low voice. “But it was too much to hope a chieftain would take ye, after the shame ye brought upon yourself. One of these others will have to do.”
Glynis swallowed against the lump in her throat. Having her father blame her for her failed marriage—and believe that she had dishonored her family—hurt more than anything her husband had done to her.
“I did nothing shameful,” she said through clenched teeth. “But I will, if ye force me to take another husband.”
Glynis had a clear right to quit her marriage under the time-honored Highland tradition of trial marriage. Unfortunately, neither her father nor her former husband had taken her decision well.
“Ye were born obstinate as an ox,” her father shouted through the six-inch crack in the door. “But I am your father and your chieftain, and ye will do as I tell ye.”
“What man will want a woman who’s shamed herself?” she hissed at him.
“Ach, men are fools for beauty,” her father said. “Despite what happened, ye are still that.”
Glynis slammed the door shut in his face and threw the bar across it.
“Ye will do as I say, or I’ll throw ye out to starve!” That was all she could make out amidst his long string of curses before his footsteps echoed down the spiral stone staircase.
Glynis blinked hard to keep back the tears. She was done with weeping.
“I should have given ye poison as a wedding gift so ye could come home a widow,” Old Molly said behind her. “I told the chieftain he was wedding ye to a bad man, but he’s no better at listening than his daughter is.”
“Quickly now.” Glynis picked up the small bowl from the side table and held it out to Molly. “It will ruin everything if he loses patience and comes back to drag me downstairs.”
Old Molly heaved a great sigh and dipped her fingers into the red clay paste.
CHAPTER 2
The MacNeil Stronghold, Barra Island
Alex guided the boat to the sea gate of the MacNeil castle, which was built on a rock island a few yards offshore. A short time later, he and Duncan were surrounded by a large group of armed MacNeil warriors who escorted them into the castle’s keep.
“I see we’ve got them scared,” Alex said in a low voice to Duncan.
“We could take them,” Duncan grunted.
“Did ye notice that there are twelve of them?” Alex asked.
“I’m no saying it would be easy.”
Alex laughed, which had the MacNeils all reaching for their swords. He was enjoying himself. Still, he hoped that he and Duncan wouldn’t have to fight their way out. These were Highland warriors, not Englishmen or Lowlanders, and everyone knew MacNeils were mean and devious fighters.
Almost as mean and devious as MacDonalds.
But the MacNeils had more dangerous weapons in their arsenal. Alex heard Duncan groan beside him as they entered the hall and saw what was waiting for them.
“God save us” escaped Alex’s lips. There were three twittering lasses sitting at the head table. The girls were pretty, but young and innocent enough to give Alex hives.
One of them wiggled her fingers at him, then her sister elbowed her in the ribs, and all three went into a fit of giggles behind their hands.
It was going to be a long evening.
“Quiet!” the chieftain thundered, and the color drained from the girls’ faces.
After exchanging greetings with Alex and Duncan, the MacNeil introduced his wife, an attractive, plump woman half his age, and his young son, who sat on her lap.
“These are my three youngest daughters,” the chieftain said, waving his arm toward the girls. “My eldest will join us soon.”
The missing daughter would be the one they’d heard about. She was rumored to be a rare beauty who had been turned out by her husband in disgrace.
She sounded like Alex’s kind of woman.
Before the chieftain could direct them where to sit, Alex and Duncan took seats at the far end from the three lasses. After a cursory prayer, wine and ale was poured, and the first courses were brought out.
Alex wanted to get their business done and leave. “Our chieftain hopes to strengthen the friendship between our two clans and has sent us here on a mission of goodwill.”
The MacNeil kept glancing at the doorway, his face darker each time. Though their host didn’t appear to be listening to a word, Alex forged ahead.
“Our chieftain pledges to join ye in fighting the pirates who are harassing your shores,” Alex said.
That caught the MacNeil’s attention. “The worst of them is his own uncle, Hugh Dubh,” he said, using the nickname Black Hugh, given him for his black heart.
“Hugh is his half uncle,” Duncan put in, as if that explained it all. “Two of his other half uncles have joined the pirates as well.”
“How do I know these MacDonald pirates aren’t raping and pillaging the outer isles on your chieftain’s orders?” the MacNeil demanded.
This was precisely what Connor feared the other chieftains would believe.
“Because they’ve raided our own clansmen up on North Uist,” Alex said. “Since we can’t know when or where Hugh will attack, the best way to catch him is to find his camp. Have ye heard any rumors of where it might be?”
“They say Hugh Dubh has piles of gold hidden away in his camp,” one of the MacNeil’s look-alike daughters piped up, “and he has a sea monster that protects it.”
“But no one can find Hugh,” another girl added, fixing wide blue eyes on Alex, “because he can call up a sea mist by magic and disappear.”
“Then I’ll just look for a sea monster in the mist,” Alex said to the girls, and Duncan glared at him for causing another round of giggles.
“Enough of these foolish tales,” their father shouted at the girls, then turned back to Alex and Duncan. “’Tis true that Hugh’s ship does have a way of disappearing into the mists, and no one knows where his camp is.”
The MacNeil chief tilted his head back to take a long drink from his cup, then slammed it on the table, sputtering and choking.
Alex followed the direction of his gaze—and almost choked on his own ale when he saw the woman. Ach, the poor lass had suffered the worst case of pox Alex had ever seen. The afflicted woman crossed the room at a brisk pace, her gaze fixed on the floor. When she took the place at the end of the table next to Alex, he had to move over to make room for her. She was quite stout, though not in a pleasing sort of way.
Alex tried not to stare at the pockmarks when he turned to greet her. But he couldn’t help it. God’s bones, these weren’t old scars—the pox were still oozing! Blood never troubled him at all, of course, but he was a wee bit squeamish about seeping sores.
“They call me Alexander Bàn.” Alexander the Fair-Haired. He put on a bright smile and waited. When she kept her gaze on the table and didn’t respond, he asked, “And you are?”
“Glynis.”
Since she refused to look at him, Alex could stare freely. The longer he looked, the more certain he was that the pockmarks weren’t oozing—they were melting. Amusement tugged at the corners of his mouth.
“I confess, ye have me curious,” he said, leaning close to her ear. “What would cause a lass to give herself pockmarks?”
Glynis jerked her head up and stared at him. Despite the distracting red boils that were easing their way down her face, Alex couldn’t help noticing that she had beautiful gray eyes.
“’Tis unkind to poke fun at a lady’s unfortunate looks,” she said.
It was disconcerting to hear such a lovely voice come out of that alarming face. Alex let his gaze drift over her, taking in the graceful swan neck and the long, slender fingers clenching her wine cup.
“Your secret is safe with me, lass,” Alex said in a low voice. “But I suspect your family already knows it’s a disguise.”
He was hoping for a laugh, but he got none.
“Come,” he said, waggling his eyebrows at her. “Tell me why ye did it.”
She took a deep drink from her wine, then said, “So ye wouldn’t want to marry me, of course.”
Alex laughed. “I fear ye went to a good deal of trouble for no purpose, for I have no intention of leaving here with a wife. But does it happen to ye often that men see ye once and want to marry ye?”
“My father says men are fools for beauty, so I couldn’t take the risk.”
The woman said this with utter seriousness. Alex hadn’t been this amused in some time—and he was a man easily amused.
“No matter how lovely ye are beneath the padding and paste,” Alex said, “ye are quite safe from finding wedded bliss with me.”
She searched his face, as if trying to decide if she could believe him. The combination of her sober expression and the globs sliding down her face made it hard not to laugh, but he managed.
“My father was certain your new chieftain would want a marriage between our clans,” she said at last, “to show his goodwill after the trouble caused by the MacDonald pirates.”
“Your father isn’t far wrong,” Alex said. “But my chieftain, who is also my cousin and good friend, knows my feelings about matrimony.”
Alex realized he’d been so caught up in his conversation with this unusual lass that he’d been ignoring her father and the rest of the table. When he turned to join their conversation, however, he found that no one else was speaking. Every member of Glynis’s family was staring at them.
Alex guessed this was the first time Glynis had tried this particular method of thwarting a potential suitor.
Glynis nudged him. When he turned back to her, she nodded toward Duncan, who, as usual, was putting away astonishing quantities of food.
“What about your friend?” she asked in a low voice. “Is he in want of a wife?”
Duncan only wanted one woman. Unfortunately, that particular woman was living in Ireland with her husband.
“No, you’re safe from Duncan as well.”
Glynis dropped her shoulders and closed her eyes, as if he’d just told her that a loved one she’d feared dead had been found alive.
“’Tis a pleasure to talk with a woman who is almost as set against marriage as I am.” Alex lifted his cup to her. “To our escape from that blessèd union.”
Apparently Glynis couldn’t spare him a smile, but she did raise her cup to his.
“How could ye tell my gown was padded?” she asked.
“I pinched your behind.”
Her jaw dropped. “Ye wouldn’t dare.”
“Ach, of course I would,” he said, though he hadn’t. “And ye didn’t feel a thing.”
“How did ye know I didn’t feel it?” she asked.
“Well, it’s like this,” he said, leaning forward on his elbows. “A pinch earns a man either a slap or a wink, and ye gave me neither.”
Her laugh was all the more lovely for being unexpected.
“Ye are a devil,” she said and poked his arm with her finger.
That long, slender finger made him wonder what the rest of her looked like without the padding. He was a man of considerable imagination.
“Which do ye get more often, a wink or a slap?” she asked.
“’Tis always a wink, lass.”
Glynis laughed again and missed the startled looks her father and sisters gave her.
“Ye are a vain man, to be sure.” She took a drumstick from the platter as she spoke, and Alex realized he hadn’t taken a bite since she sat down.
“It’s just that I know women,” Alex explained, as he took a slab of roasted mutton with his knife. “So I can tell the ones who would welcome a pinch.”
Glynis pointed her drumstick at him. “Ye pinched me, and I didn’t want ye to.”
“Pinching your padding doesn’t count,” Alex said. “You’d wink if I pinched ye, Mistress Glynis. Ye may not know it yet, but I can tell.”
Instead of laughing and calling him vain again, as he’d hoped, her expression turned tense. “I don’t like the way my father looks.”
“How does he look to ye?” Alex asked.
“Hopeful.”
* * *
Alex and Duncan slept on the floor of the hall with a score of snoring MacNeils. At dawn, Alex awoke to the sound of soft footfalls crossing the floor. He rolled to the side and leaped to his feet, leaving his host kicking the empty space where Alex had been lying.
“You’re quick,” the MacNeil said, with an approving nod. “I only meant to wake ye.”
“That could have gotten ye killed,” Alex said, as he slipped his dirk back into his belt. “And then I’d have no end of trouble leaving your fine home.”
Duncan was feigning sleep, but his hand was on the hilt of his dagger. If Alex gave the signal, Duncan would slit their host’s throat, and the two of them would be halfway to their boat before anyone else in the hall knew what had happened.
“Come for a stroll with me,” the MacNeil said. “I’ve something to show ye.”
“I could use some fresh air after all the whiskey ye gave me last night.”
Because it was difficult to discover a man’s true intentions when he was sober, Alex had matched the MacNeil drink for drink far into the night. No doubt his host had the same goal in mind.
“No one forced it down your throat,” the MacNeil said, as they left the hall.
“Ah, but ye knew I am a MacDonald,” Alex said. “We don’t like to lose, whether it be drinking games or battles.”
The MacNeil cocked an eyebrow. “Or women?”
Alex didn’t take the bait. His problem had never been losing women, but finding a graceful way to end it when the time came—which it always did.
Alex followed the MacNeil out the gate and onto the narrow causeway that connected the castle to the main island.
The MacNeil halted and pointed down the beach. “My daughter Glynis is there.”
Alex’s gaze was riveted to the slender figure walking barefoot along the shore with her back to them. Her long hair was blowing in the wind, and every few feet she stopped and leaned over to pick up something from the beach. Ach, she made a lovely sight. Alex had a weakness for a woman who liked to get her feet wet.
“Ye strike me as a curious man,” the MacNeil said. “Don’t ye want to know what she truly looks like?”
Alex did want to know. He narrowed his eyes at the MacNeil. He was more accustomed to having fathers hide their daughters from him. “Are ye not fond of your daughter?”
“Glynis is my only child by my first wife. She’s verra much like her mother, who was as difficult a woman as was ever born.” The MacNeil sighed. “God, how I loved her.”
More proof if Alex needed it—which he didn’t—that love led to misery.
“The other girls are sweet, biddable lasses who will tell their husbands they are wise and clever and always . . .
—RT Book Reviews
“Masterfully written…Mallory has created a series that every romance reader must read. The Guardian is truly a sizzling romance with high-impact adventure that captures the Scotland readers long for. The characters created by Mallory have found places in my heart and I am impatiently awaiting the next of this spectacular series!”
—FreshFiction.com
“What is more tantalizing than a quartet of sexy men in plaids? The Guardian is very much a romance with plenty of adventure wrapped around it. Don’t miss this terrific opening shot in a promising new series.”
—RomRevToday.com
“A must-read for all historical and highlander fans…Ms. Mallory weaves a gripping story of heartbreak, intrigue, and trust…This one is a keeper.”
—TheRomanceReadersConnection.com
“10 Stars! Top 20 Reviewed! Exquisite…An extraordinary medieval romance…Mallory has brilliantly set the stage for the next of three books…passionate characters and the women who love them [leap] off the pages…a true keeper to devour happily, knowing it remains on your shelf or in your e-reader to be re-read and savored over and over again!”
—TheSeasonforRomance.com
“A joyfully recommended read!…Vividly fierce, phenomenal…Breathtaking is not a good enough description…I’ve read a couple of Highlander books but none of them ever spoke to me the way The Guardian does!”
—JoyfullyReviewed.com
“I have always enjoyed [Mallory’s] rich, lush historicals… The romance community now has a new star in Scottish tales…Characters that tug at the deepest corners of your heart, a love story that seeps into the very depth of your core, and a multiple sigh-worthy ending that sings to your spirit are all combined in the magic of this wonderful book. Bravo, Margaret Mallory!”
—TheRomanceDish.com
“An amazing introduction to what is fated to become a dangerously addictive series. With characters capable of breaching the most impenetrable of readers’ defenses, riveting story lines (and even more intriguing subplots), quick, witty dialogue, as well as wild sexual tension—the only thing readers will crave, is more.”
—RomanceJunkiesReviews.com
“Top Pick! As in the previous book in her All the King’s Men series, Mallory brings history to life, creating dramatic and gut-wrenching stories. Her characters are incredibly alive and readers will feel and believe their sensual and passionate adventures. Mallory raises the genre to new levels.”
—RT Book Reviews
“An amazing story…a series that readers won’t want to miss…Filled with hot romance as well as adventure with a fascinating historical background.”
—RomRevToday.com
“4 Stars! A riveting story…Such depth and sensuality are a rare treat.”
—RT Book Reviews
“Fascinating…An excellent historical romance. Ms. Mallory gives us amazingly vivid details of the characters, romance, and intrigue of England. You’re not just reading a novel, you are stepping into the story and feeling all the emotions of each character…Knight of Pleasure is amazing and I highly recommend it.”
—TheRomanceReadersConnection.com
“An absolute delight…captivating.”
—FreshFiction.com
“Spellbinding! Few writers share Margaret Mallory’s talent for bringing history to vivid, pulsing life.”
—Virginia Henley, New York Times bestsellingauthor of The Decadent Duke
“An impressive debut…Margaret Mallory is a star in the making.”
—Mary Balogh, New York Times bestsellingauthor of At Last Comes Love
“5 Stars! Amazing…The fifteenth century came alive…Knight of Desire is the first in the All the King’s Men series and what a way to start it off.”
—CoffeeTimeRomance.com
“A fast-paced tale of romance and intrigue that will sweep you along and have you rooting for William and his fair Catherine to fight their way to love at last.”
—Candace Camp, New York Times bestsellingauthor of The Courtship Dance
“4 Stars! Mallory’s debut is impressive. She breathes life into major historical characters…in a dramatic romance.”
—RT Book Reviews
CHAPTER 1
ON THE OPPOSITE COAST OF SCOTLANDTHE NEXT DAY
Ye are a devil, Alex Bàn MacDonald!”
Alex caught the boot the woman threw at his head. As he paused on the stairs to put it on, his other boot hit the stone wall behind him and bounced down the staircase.
“Janet, can I have my shirt and plaid as well, please?” he called up.
Her dark hair spilled over her shoulder as she leaned over the stairs to glare at him. “My name is not Janet!”
Damn, Janet was the last one.
“Sorry, Mary,” he said. “I’m sure ye don’t want anyone seeing me leave your house bare-arsed, so be a sweet lass and toss my clothes down.”
“Ye don’t even know why I’m angry, do ye?”
The woman’s voice had a catch in it now that made him nervous. God, he hated it when they cried. Alex considered leaving without his clothes.
“I must go,” he said. “My friend is here with the boat, waiting.”
“Ye aren’t coming back, are ye?” Mary said.
He shouldn’t have come in the first place. He’d avoided Mary for weeks, but she’d found him at his father’s house last night, drunk and desperate. After a week with his parents, he would have followed a demon to hell to escape.
“I was going to leave my husband for ye,” Mary called down.
“For God’s sake, lass, ye don’t want to do that!” Alex bit his tongue to keep from reminding her that she was the one who had started the affair—and she’d made it very clear at the time that all she wanted from him was between his legs. “I’m sure your husband is a fine man.”
“He’s an idiot!”
“Idiot or no, he won’t like finding another man’s clothes in your bedchamber,” Alex said, talking to her in the even tones he used to calm horses. “So please, Mary, let me have them so I can go.”
“Ye will regret this, Alexander Bàn MacDonald!”
He already did.
His shirt and plaid floated down to him as the door slammed upstairs. As he dressed, Alex had a sour feeling in his belly. Most of the time, he managed to part on good terms with the women he bedded. He liked them, they liked him, and they understood it was only meant to be a bit of fun. But he had misjudged this one.
“Alex!” Through the open window, he heard Duncan calling from the shore. “There’s a man walking up the path. Get your arse in the boat!”
Alex climbed out the window and ran for the boat. Not his finest moment. He took the rudder while Duncan raised the sail, and they headed for open water.
Duncan was in a foul mood—but then he often was. He stomped around the boat, making sure everything was tied down, which it already was.
“Are ye no tired of these antics with women?” Duncan finally said. “God knows I am.”
Alex was weary to death of it, but he wasn’t about to admit that. Instead, he said, “This was easier in France.”
Alex and Duncan—along with Alex’s cousins, Connor and Ian—had spent five years in France, fighting and swiving. It had been grand. Once a French noblewoman gave her husband an heir, no one got too excited if she discreetly took a lover. Ach, it was almost expected. In truth, Highlanders were no more likely to keep their vows, but bloodshed and clan wars were a too-frequent consequence.
“How did ye know where to find me?” Alex asked when his curiosity got the better of him.
“I saw Mary drag your drunken arse off last night just as I arrived,” Duncan said. “Ye didn’t look worth the trouble, but then, she doesn’t strike me as particular.”
Alex fixed his gaze on the horizon as they sailed past his parents’ houses. When his mother left his father, she had only gone across the inlet, where she could watch him. His father was no better—both paid servants in each other’s houses to spy for them.
“Why does my mother insist on returning to my father’s house when I visit?” Alex asked, though he didn’t expect an answer. “My ears are still ringing from the shouting.”
When they reached open water, Alex stretched out to enjoy the sun and sea breeze. They had a long sail ahead of them, from their home island of Skye to the outer isles.
“Remind me how Connor convinced us to pay a visit on the MacNeils,” Alex said.
“We volunteered,” Duncan said.
“Ach, that was foolish,” Alex said, “when we know the MacNeil chieftain is looking for husbands for his daughters.”
“Aye.”
Alex opened one eye to look at his big, red-haired friend. “Were we that drunk?”
“Aye,” Duncan said with one of his rare smiles.
Duncan was a good man, if a wee bit dour these days—which just went to show that love could bring the strongest of men to their knees.
“And he didn’t tell us that he wanted us to visit the MacNeils while we’re in the outer isles,” Duncan said, “until after he’d lured us in with the prospect of chasing pirates.”
“Since Connor became chieftain,” Alex said, “I swear he grows more devious by the day.”
“Ye could make this easy by marrying one of the MacNeils’ daughters,” Duncan said, the corner of his mouth quirking up.
“I see ye do remember how to make a joke.” Not many men teased Duncan, so Alex did his best to make up for it.
“Ye know that’s what Connor wants,” Duncan said. “He has no brothers to make marriage alliances with other clans—so a cousin will have to do. If ye don’t like one of the MacNeil lasses, there are plenty of other chieftains’ daughters.”
“I’d take a blade for Connor,” Alex said, losing his humor, “but I’ll no take a wife for him.”
“Connor has a way of getting what he wants,” Duncan said. “I wager you’ll be wed within half a year.”
Alex sat up and grinned at his friend. “What shall we wager?”
“This boat,” Duncan said.
“Perfect.” Alex loved this sleek little galley that sliced through the water like a fish. They had been arguing over who had the better right to it ever since they had stolen it from Shaggy Maclean. “You’re going to miss this sweet boat.”
* * *
“Can ye hurry with your stitching?” Glynis asked, as she peered out her window. “Their boat is nearly at the sea gate.”
“Your father is going to murder ye for this.” Old Molly’s face was grim, but her needle flew along the seam at Glynis’s waist.
“Better dead than wed again,” Glynis said under her breath.
“This trick will work but once, if it works at all.” Old Molly paused to tie a knot and rethread the needle. “’Tis a losing game you’re playing, lass.”
Glynis crossed her arms. “I won’t let him marry me off again.”
“Your da is just as stubborn as you, and he’s the chieftain.” Old Molly looked up from her sewing to fix her filmy eyes on Glynis. “Not all men are as blackhearted as your first husband.”
“Perhaps not,” Glynis said, though she was far from convinced. “But the MacDonalds of Sleat are known philanderers. I swear on my grandmother’s grave, I’ll no take one of them.”
“Beware of what ye swear, lass,” Old Molly said. “I knew your grandmother well, and I’d hate for ye to cause that good woman to turn in her grave.”
“Ouch!” Glynis yelped when a loud banging caused Old Molly to stick the needle into her side.
“Get yourself down to the hall, Glynis!” her father shouted from the other side of the door. “Our guests are arriving.”
“I’m almost ready, da,” Glynis called out, and sidled over to the door.
“Don’t think ye can fool me with a sweet voice,” he said. “What are ye doing in there?”
Glynis risked opening the door a crack and stuck her face in it. Her father, a big, barrel-chested man, was looking as foul-tempered as his reputation.
“Ye said I should dress so these damned MacDonalds won’t soon forget me,” she said. “That takes a woman time, da.”
He narrowed his eyes at her, but he let it pass. After all these years of living with a wife and daughters, females were still largely a mystery to her father. In this war with him, Glynis was willing to use whatever small advantage she had.
“Their new chieftain didn’t come himself,” he said, in what for him was a low voice. “But it was too much to hope a chieftain would take ye, after the shame ye brought upon yourself. One of these others will have to do.”
Glynis swallowed against the lump in her throat. Having her father blame her for her failed marriage—and believe that she had dishonored her family—hurt more than anything her husband had done to her.
“I did nothing shameful,” she said through clenched teeth. “But I will, if ye force me to take another husband.”
Glynis had a clear right to quit her marriage under the time-honored Highland tradition of trial marriage. Unfortunately, neither her father nor her former husband had taken her decision well.
“Ye were born obstinate as an ox,” her father shouted through the six-inch crack in the door. “But I am your father and your chieftain, and ye will do as I tell ye.”
“What man will want a woman who’s shamed herself?” she hissed at him.
“Ach, men are fools for beauty,” her father said. “Despite what happened, ye are still that.”
Glynis slammed the door shut in his face and threw the bar across it.
“Ye will do as I say, or I’ll throw ye out to starve!” That was all she could make out amidst his long string of curses before his footsteps echoed down the spiral stone staircase.
Glynis blinked hard to keep back the tears. She was done with weeping.
“I should have given ye poison as a wedding gift so ye could come home a widow,” Old Molly said behind her. “I told the chieftain he was wedding ye to a bad man, but he’s no better at listening than his daughter is.”
“Quickly now.” Glynis picked up the small bowl from the side table and held it out to Molly. “It will ruin everything if he loses patience and comes back to drag me downstairs.”
Old Molly heaved a great sigh and dipped her fingers into the red clay paste.
CHAPTER 2
The MacNeil Stronghold, Barra Island
Alex guided the boat to the sea gate of the MacNeil castle, which was built on a rock island a few yards offshore. A short time later, he and Duncan were surrounded by a large group of armed MacNeil warriors who escorted them into the castle’s keep.
“I see we’ve got them scared,” Alex said in a low voice to Duncan.
“We could take them,” Duncan grunted.
“Did ye notice that there are twelve of them?” Alex asked.
“I’m no saying it would be easy.”
Alex laughed, which had the MacNeils all reaching for their swords. He was enjoying himself. Still, he hoped that he and Duncan wouldn’t have to fight their way out. These were Highland warriors, not Englishmen or Lowlanders, and everyone knew MacNeils were mean and devious fighters.
Almost as mean and devious as MacDonalds.
But the MacNeils had more dangerous weapons in their arsenal. Alex heard Duncan groan beside him as they entered the hall and saw what was waiting for them.
“God save us” escaped Alex’s lips. There were three twittering lasses sitting at the head table. The girls were pretty, but young and innocent enough to give Alex hives.
One of them wiggled her fingers at him, then her sister elbowed her in the ribs, and all three went into a fit of giggles behind their hands.
It was going to be a long evening.
“Quiet!” the chieftain thundered, and the color drained from the girls’ faces.
After exchanging greetings with Alex and Duncan, the MacNeil introduced his wife, an attractive, plump woman half his age, and his young son, who sat on her lap.
“These are my three youngest daughters,” the chieftain said, waving his arm toward the girls. “My eldest will join us soon.”
The missing daughter would be the one they’d heard about. She was rumored to be a rare beauty who had been turned out by her husband in disgrace.
She sounded like Alex’s kind of woman.
Before the chieftain could direct them where to sit, Alex and Duncan took seats at the far end from the three lasses. After a cursory prayer, wine and ale was poured, and the first courses were brought out.
Alex wanted to get their business done and leave. “Our chieftain hopes to strengthen the friendship between our two clans and has sent us here on a mission of goodwill.”
The MacNeil kept glancing at the doorway, his face darker each time. Though their host didn’t appear to be listening to a word, Alex forged ahead.
“Our chieftain pledges to join ye in fighting the pirates who are harassing your shores,” Alex said.
That caught the MacNeil’s attention. “The worst of them is his own uncle, Hugh Dubh,” he said, using the nickname Black Hugh, given him for his black heart.
“Hugh is his half uncle,” Duncan put in, as if that explained it all. “Two of his other half uncles have joined the pirates as well.”
“How do I know these MacDonald pirates aren’t raping and pillaging the outer isles on your chieftain’s orders?” the MacNeil demanded.
This was precisely what Connor feared the other chieftains would believe.
“Because they’ve raided our own clansmen up on North Uist,” Alex said. “Since we can’t know when or where Hugh will attack, the best way to catch him is to find his camp. Have ye heard any rumors of where it might be?”
“They say Hugh Dubh has piles of gold hidden away in his camp,” one of the MacNeil’s look-alike daughters piped up, “and he has a sea monster that protects it.”
“But no one can find Hugh,” another girl added, fixing wide blue eyes on Alex, “because he can call up a sea mist by magic and disappear.”
“Then I’ll just look for a sea monster in the mist,” Alex said to the girls, and Duncan glared at him for causing another round of giggles.
“Enough of these foolish tales,” their father shouted at the girls, then turned back to Alex and Duncan. “’Tis true that Hugh’s ship does have a way of disappearing into the mists, and no one knows where his camp is.”
The MacNeil chief tilted his head back to take a long drink from his cup, then slammed it on the table, sputtering and choking.
Alex followed the direction of his gaze—and almost choked on his own ale when he saw the woman. Ach, the poor lass had suffered the worst case of pox Alex had ever seen. The afflicted woman crossed the room at a brisk pace, her gaze fixed on the floor. When she took the place at the end of the table next to Alex, he had to move over to make room for her. She was quite stout, though not in a pleasing sort of way.
Alex tried not to stare at the pockmarks when he turned to greet her. But he couldn’t help it. God’s bones, these weren’t old scars—the pox were still oozing! Blood never troubled him at all, of course, but he was a wee bit squeamish about seeping sores.
“They call me Alexander Bàn.” Alexander the Fair-Haired. He put on a bright smile and waited. When she kept her gaze on the table and didn’t respond, he asked, “And you are?”
“Glynis.”
Since she refused to look at him, Alex could stare freely. The longer he looked, the more certain he was that the pockmarks weren’t oozing—they were melting. Amusement tugged at the corners of his mouth.
“I confess, ye have me curious,” he said, leaning close to her ear. “What would cause a lass to give herself pockmarks?”
Glynis jerked her head up and stared at him. Despite the distracting red boils that were easing their way down her face, Alex couldn’t help noticing that she had beautiful gray eyes.
“’Tis unkind to poke fun at a lady’s unfortunate looks,” she said.
It was disconcerting to hear such a lovely voice come out of that alarming face. Alex let his gaze drift over her, taking in the graceful swan neck and the long, slender fingers clenching her wine cup.
“Your secret is safe with me, lass,” Alex said in a low voice. “But I suspect your family already knows it’s a disguise.”
He was hoping for a laugh, but he got none.
“Come,” he said, waggling his eyebrows at her. “Tell me why ye did it.”
She took a deep drink from her wine, then said, “So ye wouldn’t want to marry me, of course.”
Alex laughed. “I fear ye went to a good deal of trouble for no purpose, for I have no intention of leaving here with a wife. But does it happen to ye often that men see ye once and want to marry ye?”
“My father says men are fools for beauty, so I couldn’t take the risk.”
The woman said this with utter seriousness. Alex hadn’t been this amused in some time—and he was a man easily amused.
“No matter how lovely ye are beneath the padding and paste,” Alex said, “ye are quite safe from finding wedded bliss with me.”
She searched his face, as if trying to decide if she could believe him. The combination of her sober expression and the globs sliding down her face made it hard not to laugh, but he managed.
“My father was certain your new chieftain would want a marriage between our clans,” she said at last, “to show his goodwill after the trouble caused by the MacDonald pirates.”
“Your father isn’t far wrong,” Alex said. “But my chieftain, who is also my cousin and good friend, knows my feelings about matrimony.”
Alex realized he’d been so caught up in his conversation with this unusual lass that he’d been ignoring her father and the rest of the table. When he turned to join their conversation, however, he found that no one else was speaking. Every member of Glynis’s family was staring at them.
Alex guessed this was the first time Glynis had tried this particular method of thwarting a potential suitor.
Glynis nudged him. When he turned back to her, she nodded toward Duncan, who, as usual, was putting away astonishing quantities of food.
“What about your friend?” she asked in a low voice. “Is he in want of a wife?”
Duncan only wanted one woman. Unfortunately, that particular woman was living in Ireland with her husband.
“No, you’re safe from Duncan as well.”
Glynis dropped her shoulders and closed her eyes, as if he’d just told her that a loved one she’d feared dead had been found alive.
“’Tis a pleasure to talk with a woman who is almost as set against marriage as I am.” Alex lifted his cup to her. “To our escape from that blessèd union.”
Apparently Glynis couldn’t spare him a smile, but she did raise her cup to his.
“How could ye tell my gown was padded?” she asked.
“I pinched your behind.”
Her jaw dropped. “Ye wouldn’t dare.”
“Ach, of course I would,” he said, though he hadn’t. “And ye didn’t feel a thing.”
“How did ye know I didn’t feel it?” she asked.
“Well, it’s like this,” he said, leaning forward on his elbows. “A pinch earns a man either a slap or a wink, and ye gave me neither.”
Her laugh was all the more lovely for being unexpected.
“Ye are a devil,” she said and poked his arm with her finger.
That long, slender finger made him wonder what the rest of her looked like without the padding. He was a man of considerable imagination.
“Which do ye get more often, a wink or a slap?” she asked.
“’Tis always a wink, lass.”
Glynis laughed again and missed the startled looks her father and sisters gave her.
“Ye are a vain man, to be sure.” She took a drumstick from the platter as she spoke, and Alex realized he hadn’t taken a bite since she sat down.
“It’s just that I know women,” Alex explained, as he took a slab of roasted mutton with his knife. “So I can tell the ones who would welcome a pinch.”
Glynis pointed her drumstick at him. “Ye pinched me, and I didn’t want ye to.”
“Pinching your padding doesn’t count,” Alex said. “You’d wink if I pinched ye, Mistress Glynis. Ye may not know it yet, but I can tell.”
Instead of laughing and calling him vain again, as he’d hoped, her expression turned tense. “I don’t like the way my father looks.”
“How does he look to ye?” Alex asked.
“Hopeful.”
* * *
Alex and Duncan slept on the floor of the hall with a score of snoring MacNeils. At dawn, Alex awoke to the sound of soft footfalls crossing the floor. He rolled to the side and leaped to his feet, leaving his host kicking the empty space where Alex had been lying.
“You’re quick,” the MacNeil said, with an approving nod. “I only meant to wake ye.”
“That could have gotten ye killed,” Alex said, as he slipped his dirk back into his belt. “And then I’d have no end of trouble leaving your fine home.”
Duncan was feigning sleep, but his hand was on the hilt of his dagger. If Alex gave the signal, Duncan would slit their host’s throat, and the two of them would be halfway to their boat before anyone else in the hall knew what had happened.
“Come for a stroll with me,” the MacNeil said. “I’ve something to show ye.”
“I could use some fresh air after all the whiskey ye gave me last night.”
Because it was difficult to discover a man’s true intentions when he was sober, Alex had matched the MacNeil drink for drink far into the night. No doubt his host had the same goal in mind.
“No one forced it down your throat,” the MacNeil said, as they left the hall.
“Ah, but ye knew I am a MacDonald,” Alex said. “We don’t like to lose, whether it be drinking games or battles.”
The MacNeil cocked an eyebrow. “Or women?”
Alex didn’t take the bait. His problem had never been losing women, but finding a graceful way to end it when the time came—which it always did.
Alex followed the MacNeil out the gate and onto the narrow causeway that connected the castle to the main island.
The MacNeil halted and pointed down the beach. “My daughter Glynis is there.”
Alex’s gaze was riveted to the slender figure walking barefoot along the shore with her back to them. Her long hair was blowing in the wind, and every few feet she stopped and leaned over to pick up something from the beach. Ach, she made a lovely sight. Alex had a weakness for a woman who liked to get her feet wet.
“Ye strike me as a curious man,” the MacNeil said. “Don’t ye want to know what she truly looks like?”
Alex did want to know. He narrowed his eyes at the MacNeil. He was more accustomed to having fathers hide their daughters from him. “Are ye not fond of your daughter?”
“Glynis is my only child by my first wife. She’s verra much like her mother, who was as difficult a woman as was ever born.” The MacNeil sighed. “God, how I loved her.”
More proof if Alex needed it—which he didn’t—that love led to misery.
“The other girls are sweet, biddable lasses who will tell their husbands they are wise and clever and always . . .
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