“Aye,” the girl said.
“Seamus, I’ll need a rope and a shovel,” Alex said, as he took off his boots. “Bring them down to the boat.”
Alex hefted the body over his shoulder and carried it down to the boat, which he found on the beach just below the cottage. Their father had kept the boat in such poor repair that none of the fishermen would be surprised when it washed up on shore with a hole in it. A body with a knife wound, however, could be a problem. Alex grunted as he lifted a heavy rock onto the boat.
Seamus came out of the darkness and put the shovel and rope in the boat.
“I’ll be back in a few hours.” Alex squeezed the lad’s shoulders. They felt frail and bony beneath his hands. “It will be all right.”
After sailing down the coast a bit, Alex took the boat straight out to sea for a mile or more. He tied the stone to the body and dumped them both over the side. Damned if he’d say a prayer for the man.
After ramming a hole in the boat with the shovel, Alex dove over the side. He was a strong swimmer, so the worst part of the long swim was the cold. Still, it seemed to take forever to reach shore. When he did, he was so cold he was shaking. He was barefoot and soaking wet, but he warmed up as he made the long walk back by starlight.
By the time he reached the cottage, the sky had the gray cast of predawn. Thankfully, the children—though Ùna was seventeen, Alex could not help thinking of her as a child—had a good fire going. Alex stood before it to dry his clothes as long as he dared.
“Ye did a good job cleaning up,” he said, as he put his boots on.
“I burned what I was wearing,” Ùna said.
“Good. Now get some rest.” They were both too pale and had dark circles under their eyes. “I’ll come back to check on ye tomorrow.”
Alex was exhausted when he returned to the castle just as dawn was breaking. The guards at the gate were men who had come with him from Skye. He suspected they might think he had been in some woman’s bed, as in former days, but he could not very well tell them he’d spent the night disposing of a body at sea—and he was too damned tired to think of a better explanation. He would set them straight in the morning.
Praise be to the saints that Glynis was a sound sleeper. All the same, before easing the bedchamber door open Alex took off his boots and then set them down carefully just inside the door. After hanging his damp clothes over a stool, Alex slipped under the bedclothes and wrapped himself around Glynis. After the hellish night, peacefulness settled over him, as it always did when he fell asleep with his wife in his arms.
* * *
Glynis lay on her side watching the pink dawn sky through the narrow window. Her husband’s arm felt heavy slung across her ribs. With every breath she took, the weight seemed to grow heavier and heavier until she felt as if she were wheezing. But she knew it was not his arm, but the weight on her heart that made it so hard to breathe.
She told herself not to rush to judgment. There could be a dozen reasons why Alex crept into bed with the dawn. And yet, she could think of only one. It throbbed in her head. Another woman, another woman.
She squeezed her eyes shut and prayed. Please, God, don’t let it be true.
If Alex had planned to meet a lover, that would explain why he was distracted all through supper last night. And then there was his vague explanation about needing to visit a tenant, something he never did in the evening. And his parting words: Don’t wait up.
Alex was sleeping like the dead—or like a man who had spent the night sating himself.
Glynis could not lie here a moment longer waiting for Alex to wake up and tell her where he’d been all night. When she threw off the bedclothes and sat up, the first thing she saw was his boots. Alex had stood them neatly by the door instead of tossing them on the floor by the bed as he always did.
Her husband had taken pains not to wake her when he came in.
Glynis was so upset that the thought of breakfast made her ill. After grabbing an oatcake for her pocket from the kitchen, she headed out for a walk on the beach. She bid good day to the men on guard as she started through the gate, then she stopped.
“Were ye here when my husband came in early this morning?” she asked one of the men. Her stomach sank as the guard looked away and shifted his weight from side to side.
“Aye,” the man said, then quickly added, “but he didn’t say where he’d been.”
Apparently, Alex did not need to say for the man to guess.
CHAPTER 43
Alex awoke with the sun shining on his face. He blinked to clear the images of the bloody cottage from his vision and looked about the empty bedchamber. Good God, how late had he slept?
He was not used to waking up without Glynis, and he didn’t like it. And where in the hell were his boots? He was on his knees looking under the bed before he remembered leaving them neatly by the door. He smiled thinking how that must have pleased his orderly wife.
His stomach rumbled, and his muscles ached as he drew a clean shirt over his head. It was a long swim last night, and he was starving.
When he went down to the hall, Sorcha ran across the room to him. It must be noon already, for everyone was sitting at the tables, waiting for him to start the midday meal—everyone, that is, except his wife.