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Rory quirked a brow in her direction. “Is that so?” He kept his gaze trained on her while he took a mouthful of porridge.

Ali cursed Iain’s unerring need to explain his actions to his brother. She hoped he hadn’t triggered Rory’s suspi cions. He was one man she wouldn’t be able to fool. And 110

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the one man that for the life of her she couldn’t keep her eyes off of. Fascinated despite herself, she watched the movement of the powerful muscles in his throat as he drank his ale. With a concerted effort, she dragged her gaze away, wishing, not for the first time, he’d been cursed with some deformity. He was too damn gorgeous for his own good—and hers. “If you’l excuse me, I’l meet you in the courtyard in a few minutes, Iain. Fergus, Lord MacLeod.”

She nodded in their direction.

“Aileanna—” Rory paused, waiting for her to acknowl

edge that he’d spoken to her.

She sighed and turned to face him. Her knuckles whitened as she gripped the back of her chair. The corner of his mouth twitched and amusement glinted in his eyes as he looked at her. “You’l be ridin’ to the Chisholms’.”

Ride? Her brow furrowed. Good God, he wanted her to ride a horse. “Thank you, but I’d prefer to walk.”

“Nay. You’l ride.”

What the hel was she supposed to say? Was there a woman in this godforsaken time that wouldn’t be perfectly at ease in the saddle? “I . . . I can’t ride. I’m al ergic.”

“Al ergic? I’ve never heard of the word.” He narrowed his gaze on her.

Damn, she’d done it now. She glared at Fergus and Iain. It was their fault she was in this predicament. But did they come to her rescue? No, of course not. “Horses make me sneeze.”

“’Tis al in yer head,” he scoffed. “A horse canna’ make you sneeze. And you wil ride, Aileanna, or you wil no’

go to the Chisholms’. Yer feet are no’ yet healed.”

She leaned across her chair to glare at him. “You can’t tel me what to do, Rory MacLeod, and don’t you forget it.”

He sat back, arms folded across his broad chest, his eyes

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locked onto hers. “Yer wrong, Aileanna. I can, and I wil . Now, if yer scared of ridin’ a horse, that I would understand.”

“Of course I’m not scared.” She waved her hand offhandedly.

“Good. I’l meet you at the stables after I’ve eaten.”

“No . . . no, I’m not going with you. I’m going with Iain.”

She silently pleaded with Iain to intervene. His answer—

a helpless shrug of his shoulders.

“If you plan on goin’ to the Chisholms’ you’l meet me at the stables.” That said, Rory went back to eating. Her fingers itched to dump the mug of ale on his arro

gant head.

Head bent, he glanced at her from the corner of his eye.

“I wouldna’ try it, Aileanna. You wouldna’ like the conse

quences.”

“Achoo, achoo.” Aileanna sneezed again and again. She stood just inside the stable door, as far from the horses as she could get. Sunlight played in her unbound hair, turn

ing it to burnished gold. None too gently, she rubbed her eyes and nose. “I told you I have al ergies. Do you believe me now?” She sniffed dramatical y.

Rory pushed away from the rough-hewn boards of the stable wal where he’d watched her put on her wee show.

“Nay.” He brought his face within inches of hers and tapped his finger on the tip of her reddened nose. “I doona’

believe you, Aileanna, but you’d do wel on the stage, lass.”

Her eyes widened as she stared at him in disbelief. “You can’t be serious. Look at my nose, my eyes.” She pointed at each of the parts she referred to.

“Aye, and if I rubbed at mine as much as you, they’d be the same.”

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“You’re insufferable.” She tossed her hair and turned to walk away.

“Oh, no, you doona’ get away that easily.” He grabbed her by the arm and tugged her toward him. “What, no sneezes? Achoo. ” He mimicked her dainty sneeze, unable to keep the laughter from his voice. Her mouth dropped. She punched him in the arm, making him laugh harder than he had in a long time. “You’l have to do better than that if—” He took hold of the hands she’d bal ed into fists before she could fol ow through with her threat. “Now, why canna’ you just admit yer afraid?”

Aileanna struggled to free herself. She tugged her hands from his at the same time he let go. She stumbled and fel with a resounding thud onto the hard-packed, hay-strewn ground. He reached down to help her and she slapped his hand away, glaring up at him.

“I didna’ do it on purpose, Aileanna,” he said, biting back a smile.

Her eyes flashed deep violet. “Hah, as if I believe that!”

She sat there and shook out the dirt from her dark blue gown. He crouched at her side. “Let me help you.”

“No, I think you’ve helped enough.” She squinted up at him. “And don’t you dare laugh at me.”

He grinned. “Come now, you must admit yer wee per

formance was funny.”

She dipped her head, lips curved in a slight smile. He helped her to her feet and brushed off the back of her gown. His movements were light and brisk so as not to touch the rounded curves of her delectable behind.

“Thank you,” she murmured and took a step away from him.

“Wil you tel me now why you wil na’ admit yer fears, Aileanna?”

She shrugged. “Why should I? I think you’ve been

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entertained enough for one day.” Her attention was drawn to Lucifer, his black stal ion—a beast of a horse that even now pawed the ground in his stal .

“No one is without fears, Aileanna. I wouldna’ laugh at yers.”

She tipped her head to look at him, her eyes taking his measure. “I doubt you have ever been afraid of anything, Rory MacLeod.”

She was wrong. He was afraid of her and what she made him feel. She awakened emotions he thought he’d buried with Brianna. He cleared his throat. “Come.” He motioned for her to fol ow him. “Doona’ worry, I’l choose a docile mount for you.”

She moved across the hay-strewn floor with a dis

cernible limp. Her gaze widened as she scanned the horses, a look of relief when they lit on the last stal . “I’l take that one.” She pointed to the white fil y. Rory choked on his laughter. “Nay, Aileanna, she’s no’

ful y grown.”

Hands on her hips, she rounded on him. “Are you saying I’m too big for her?”

“Nay, only that she’s too smal for you. Why doona’ you wait outside and I’l bring yer mount to you.” Having de cided on the horse for her, he thought it best if they met outside the close confines of the stables. Aileanna left without an argument while Rory retrieved her mount.

“Come, girl, ’tis time to meet yer lady.” The honey-colored mare shot him a baleful look and went back to her oats. Anyone else would be offended if he suggested old Bessie be their mount. Most could walk faster than the mare, but it was al Aileanna required for now and, Rory surmised, al she could handle. Rory saddled the horse and brought her out to where Aileanna waited.

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“What’s her name?” Aileanna asked, keeping herself wel away from the horse.

“Bessie. Aileanna, she wil na’ bite. Come closer.”

She gave him a disgruntled look before she took a cautious step forward. “Nice horsie.” Aileanna held out her hand in the direction of the horse’s muzzle. Bessie gave a disdainful snort and Aileanna jumped away. Rory sighed. “We doona’ have al day, lass.”

“This was your idea.” She sucked in what sounded like a panicked breath when he grabbed her around the waist and lifted her onto the saddle. “You could’ve warned me,”

she snapped, her nails biting into his shoulders. He eased himself away from her hold. “Now take your left leg and put it around the pommel.” She swung her leg over the horse, and now sat astride, giving him and anyone else who happened to wander by a tantalizing view of a bare and shapely leg. Bloody hell. “Aileanna, ’tis no’ how a lady sits a horse.” He patted the horn. “Now bring your leg back over this.”

“No, I’l fal off. I like it better this way.”

“’Tis no’ proper you showin’—” He ran his hand through his hair, then gestured at her leg. Aileanna huffed out a breath. “It doesn’t matter. No one else wil see.”

She might think it fine for him to see her naked flesh. After al , he’d seen his fair share of her satiny smooth skin of late. But it did not aid in his intention to keep his hands or his thoughts off of her. Nor for that matter had his bril liant suggestion that she meet him at the stables. He had yet to figure out why he’d made the offer in the first place.

“I wil na’ let you fal . Now, do as I say.” His hand at her waist, he tried to ignore the heat of her skin beneath his fingers. He watched as she complied with his order, al the while muttering under her breath. LORD OF THE ISLES

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When Rory lightly slapped her hindquarters, Bessie began to saunter across the courtyard while Rory walked alongside. Aileanna sat frozen in the saddle. He gave her knee a squeeze of reassurance. “Now, that was no’ so bad, was it?” he asked as they made their way out of the courtyard and onto the tree-lined path. The reins clutched in her white-knuckled grip, she mut

tered, “I’l tel you once she gets going.”

“This is aboot as fast as it gets with Bessie.”

“Oh.” Her lips curved into a wide smile that took Rory’s breath away.

Bessie stopped short and lowered her head. “Wha . . . what is she doing now?”

Rory laughed. “Eatin’.”

Aileanna wrinkled her nose. “I think I could’ve walked faster to the Chisholms’.”

“Aye.” He grinned. “But then you’d hurt yer feet.”

He saw the tension ease from her shoulders as she in

haled deeply of the heather-scented air. “It’s so beautiful here.” Her gaze wandered over their surroundings.

“Aye, verra bonny.” But it wasn’t the scenery he referred to. Not the shimmering loch the golden eagle soared above, or the Cuil ens in the distance, wreathed in mist. For him, their attraction dimmed in comparison to the woman at his side.

“I’d love to take a walk over there.” She shifted careful y in the saddle, pointing toward the loch. “It looks so peace ful. I imagine heaven would be a little like that.” She gave him a shy smile; a becoming flush bloomed in her cheeks.

“That sounded sil y, didn’t it?”

“Nay.” He returned her smile. “When yer feet have healed I’l take you there, Aileanna. ’Tis where I go when I need to think.”

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must be difficult to be responsible for al of this. To have so many depend upon you.”

Rory shrugged. “Nay, ’tis what I was raised to do.” He paused and stroked Bessie’s mane. “I only wish it were no’

necessary to fight to hold on to what is ours.”

“Is that what your feud with the MacDonalds is about?”

“Aye, and now the king draws us into yet another battle.”

She frowned. “What other battle?”

“You doona’ remember, lass? The adventurers who kid

napped you, they’re bound for Lewis—and my cousin Aidan wil need our help to hold them back.”

“Of course, I’d forgotten.” She turned away. He narrowed his gaze upon her, but before he could question her further, he heard his brother cal out. Iain’s deep voice scattered the birds that moments before chirped happily in the branches overhead.

His brother scrambled up the path toward them. He chuckled when he saw Aileanna’s mount. “No wonder I had no difficulty catchin’ up to you.” He gave Bessie a pat and smiled up at Aileanna. Rory tamped down his annoyance at the interruption.

“What is it?”

Iain gave him a questioning look, then shrugged. “A messenger arrived. We’re receivin’ guests.” He handed Rory a rol ed parchment.

The paper crackled as Rory unraveled it. He scanned the missive. With a troubled sigh he looked out over the loch.

“See Lady Aileanna to the Chisholms’ fer me, Iain.” His tone was brusque as he stalked off toward the castle with out a backward glance.

Rory crumpled the parchment and cursed under his breath. His cousin Aidan now rode to Dunvegan accompa nied by Moira and Cyril MacLean. He knew Aidan wanted to assure himself that when the time came Rory would aid LORD OF THE ISLES

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him in his fight against the adventurers. Rory couldn’t refuse him, but with the ongoing feud against the MacDonald, he’d be hard-pressed to provide the men his cousin required. An al iance with the MacLeans would be the answer, and Aidan knew it as wel as Rory did. The MacLeans had the men they needed, but their price was steep. They wanted a match between Rory and Moira MacLean.

Chapter 10

“Mrs. Mac. I can’t breathe,” Ali protested. The corset sucked in her waist several inches smal er than it had the right to be, crushing her ribs in the effort. Her breasts pushed up to ungodly proportions.

“Hush with yer complainin’. I’l no’ have that viper en

snarin’ my laird,” the older woman muttered under her breath while she gave the laces at Ali’s back another firm tug. Light-headed, Ali wrapped her fingers around the wooden post of the bed. “What viper? And what does it have to do with you stuffing me into this thing?”

“Lady MacLean . . . Lady.” She harrumphed. “Did you no’ ken they’d arrived?”

“Iain said something—” The rest of her response ended up buried beneath layers of plum colored satin. Arms flail ing, Ali pushed her way out, determined to get an answer from Mrs. Mac. The woman hadn’t given her a moment’s peace since she’d returned from the Chisholms’. Iain had mentioned the MacLeans and his cousin in an attempt to excuse his brother’s abrupt departure and manner. He needn’t have bothered. Ali was growing accus tomed to the Laird of Dunvegan’s domineering behavior. Although she had to admit she had enjoyed their time 120

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together before Iain appeared on the scene and had been sorry to see it end, it was for the best. The more time she spent with the man the more she came to admire him, and that was not a good thing, especial y when she had every intention of finding the fairy flag.

Not that her time with Iain had proven productive in that area. She hadn’t managed to find out anything about the clan’s revered treasure. She ignored the dul ache in her chest. No matter how she felt about Rory, any relationship between them was doomed. She didn’t belong here, and if she had any doubts before, what happened to Mari put an end to them.

Freed of the voluminous fabric, Ali tugged at the low, squared neckline her breasts threatened to pop out of. “You can’t tel me this is considered acceptable.” She faced Mrs. Mac and pointed to her chest. “If you so much as catch a glimpse of my ankles you have a fit, for God’s sake, but this . . . this is okay?” she said in a low, aggravated voice. Even though she’d prefer to shout the words, she couldn’t risk being overheard, and truthful y, she didn’t think the straitjacket posing as underclothes would al ow anything above a whisper. Mrs. Mac had the nerve to grin. “Aye, ’tis acceptable, and I’m certain my laird wil think it verra acceptable indeed.”

Ali’s gaze narrowed on her torturer. “What are you up to?”

“Sit.” With a firm hold on Ali’s shoulders, Mrs. Mac guided her none too gently onto the most uncomfortable wooden stool Ali had ever sat on. The corset didn’t help; her posture was perfect, and it was painful.

“Ouch,” Ali cried as Mrs. Mac tugged a comb through her hair. She glared at the woman over her shoulder. “You can fuss with me al you want, but I’m not leaving this room until you tel me what’s going on.”

“’Tis as I was sayin’. That woman wants nothin’ more

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than to get her claws into my laird, and I wil no’ stand fer her bein’ Dunvegan’s lady. Fer al her fancy ways she’s a viper, just like I said.”

“Marry? You think she wants to marry Rory?” Ali stared at the dying embers in the fireplace as she absorbed what Mrs. Mac was saying.

“Think, nay. I ken ’tis what she wants. She’s always wanted him. When he married Lady Brianna the woman flew into a rage that lasted fer weeks, from what I’ve been told.”

Ali worked the words past the tightness in her throat.

“But I didn’t think Rory would marry again. He’s stil in love with his wife.”

“Och, wel , that mon would do whatever he had to for his clan, and a match between the MacLeans and the MacLeods would serve us wel . Most would welcome the union, but no’ I. It would be a disaster. He’s too good fer the likes of her. He deserves better. His whole life he’s sac

rificed fer the clan, and ’tis aboot time he put himself first, if you ask me.”

“I’m sure he’l do what’s best for everyone.” Ali twisted her hands in her lap like her heart twisted in her chest, leaving a dul and familiar ache. It felt the same as when she found out about Drew and al the women he’d been un faithful with. But it was unfair to compare Rory to Drew. She and Rory hadn’t exchanged words of love, or made a commitment. They’d shared nothing more than heated kisses. Yet, no matter what her head said, in her heart she felt betrayed.

“Aye, wel , then she’d be it. But you mark my words, no good wil come of it. She’l be a hard taskmaster. Dunvegan wil no’ be the same.”

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with his dead wife, or win his clan’s acceptance. For the love of God, you’re not from the same century . Ali cleared the emotion from her throat. “I’m sure it’s difficult for you to think of anyone else taking Lady Bri anna’s place.”

“Doona’ get me wrong, Lady Brianna was a sweet lass, but she never assumed the role of lady to Dunvegan. You ken she was no’ strong, but what you may no’ ken is she was verra shy and left the runnin’ of the keep to me. The clan loved her fer it. Nay, ’twil no’ be the same with the other one. I warrant we’l feel the lash of her tongue, if no’ her hand as wel .”

Ali stiffened. “You aren’t implying she’d hit you?”

“Och, aye, she has the reputation fer it.”

“There’s no way Ro . . . Lord MacLeod would ever al ow that to happen, so you have nothing to worry about.”

“She’s a sneaky one, she is. I warrant the men doona’

see that side of her. She’d keep it wel hidden.”

“I’m beginning to think this wil be an interesting evening.”

“Aye, ’twil be that. And you be careful, Lady Aileanna. She wil na’ take kindly to yer presence. Be wary of the lass.”

“I doubt—” A light tap on the door to her chambers drew Ali from their conversation. “Come in,” she cal ed out, surprised when Mari crossed the threshold. “Mari, it’s so good to see you up and around. Mrs. Mac, give me a minute, please.” Ali reached back and stil ed the older woman’s hand before she gave her attention to her young maid. Other than bruises that would take some time to heal, Ali was pleased how wel Mari looked after her ordeal, but she couldn’t completely brush aside her con

cern. “Is everything al right?”

“Aye, my lady.” Mari offered Ali a hesitant smile and tilted her head to the door. “Connor thought it best I come to ye.”

The young girl blushed prettily.

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With a rustle of silks, Ali went quickly to her side.

“Why? What’s happened?”

“Lady Aileanna, you mustna’ worry so.” She patted Ali’s arm.

“I’m sorry, it’s just . . . wel , you know. But there must be some reason Connor sent you to me, and please don’t tel me it has anything to do with my hair.”

“Nay, but it might be best if it did.” Mari smiled and reached up to pat a strand into place.

“Och, now, I’m doin’ the best I can. Sit back down here, Lady Aileanna, and Mari wil tel us what’s brought her here.”

Mrs. Mac waved her over with the comb. “Hurry on, or you’l miss the evenin’ meal.”

Once seated, Ali gave the girl a pointed look. “Mari?”

“’Tis Lady MacLean is al . She’s lookin’ fer a maid to tend to her needs.”

“’Tis a canny lad our Connor is. You have enough bruises without her addin’ to them. But why the woman didna’ bring her own help is beyond me.”

“Oh, but she did, only from what I hear tel the maid ran off on the trek here.”

“You see, Lady Aileanna, ’tis as I said,” Mrs. Mac huffed.

“Wel , I can tel you right now she won’t get away with that type of behavior while she’s at Dunvegan. If Ror—

Lord MacLeod doesn’t deal with her, I wil .”

Mrs. Mac and Mari exchanged what looked to be a con

spiratorial smile, and Ali narrowed her gaze on them.

“What?”

Rory tried to focus on the woman at his side, but Aileanna’s husky laugh coming from the far end of the table captured his attention. From the moment she’d en

tered the hal , he’d found himself unable to ignore her. The curve of her long neck beneath the elegant upsweep of her 124

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hair, and the creamy swel of her breasts fil ing the neck

line of her beautiful gown, al conspired against him.

“Yer brother seems much enamored of Lady Aileanna.”

Moira MacLean nodded in the direction of the two. An impish grin curved her tinted lips.

“They’re friends,” he said, his tone more gruff than he intended. The muscle in his jaw twitched at the sight of Aileanna’s hand on his brother’s sleeve, their heads bent toward each other. He tightened his grip on the pewter mug before he brought it to his lips, taking a deep swal ow. An elegant brow lifted at his response, her fawn colored eyes intent. “I thought she was his betrothed, yet I’ve seen no sign of her chaperone, Rory. ’Tis no’ proper to have a woman under yer roof without her kin.”

“She was injured when the adventurers kidnapped her and has no memory of her kin. Fer the moment she’s under my protection, Moira. I await word from Angus Graham.”

Aidan, who sat on his left, halted his conversation with Fergus. “Ye didna’ mention that earlier, Rory. Are ye cer tain she’s no’ a spy?” His cousin Aidan, who arrived late to the hal , had yet to meet Aileanna and now leaned back in his chair to cast a suspicious look her way. Rory had kept introductions to a minimum, comment ing little on Aileanna’s presence even when he and his cousin had shut themselves away most of the day to strate gize. He hadn’t realized it had been intentional, but obvi

ously it had been, and Moira’s comments of impropriety reminded him why.

“You’ve only just arrived, Aidan, and we had other mat

ters to discuss. Rest assured, Lady Aileanna is no spy.”

Moira walked her fingers along Rory’s arm and tilted her head to gaze up at him. Her nut brown hair brushed his shoulder. “And what would those matters be?”

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the union. Even though he knew the match had merit, something held him back, and he was beginning to fear that something was at the moment chatting up his brother.

“Ye must excuse my sister, Rory. She has never been known fer her patience.” Cyril patted her hand with an in dulgent smile.

“Cyril.” Moira pouted prettily. “Ye wouldna’ want Rory to think me spoiled, now would ye?”

“Doona’ fret, Moira, that wouldna’ happen,” Rory reas

sured her, looking up in time to catch Aileanna’s stormy blue gaze upon him. Their eyes locked before she turned her back on him. It was then Rory noted Moira had en

twined her fingers with his.

He heard his cousin’s sharp intake of breath. “Sweet Jesu’, she has the look of Brianna.” His mouth gaped. “Are ye certain she has no’ turned yer head because of it, cousin? Mayhap ye should let me question her.”

Before Rory could respond, Fergus cut in. “’Tis I who found the lass, Aidan, and if it wasna’ for her, our laird would be dead.”

Aidan’s head swiveled between Rory and Fergus. “Ye were wounded and ye didna’ tel me?”

Rory shot Fergus a look of reproach. “’Twas nothin’, I’m fine now.”

“Oh my, Rory, ye were wounded?” Moira clasped a hand to the slight curve of her breast and blinked back tears. “I could swoon at the thought,” she said breathlessly, the color draining from her face.

“Doona’ distress yerself, Moira. I’m fine.” He laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. Cyril held a mug of ale to his sister’s lips. “There . . . there, love, take a sip. She’s a wee bit emotional,” her brother confided to Rory while he stroked the curls from his sister’s face.

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shared a laugh with his brother. A smal measure of anger flared in Rory at her reaction. He didn’t think it fair she con demn the lass on account of her tender feelings. Most women did not have Aileanna’s strength. “Lady Aileanna, Lady MacLean is feelin’ faint. Mayhap you could see to her.”

She passed a cursory glance over Moira before she re

turned her gaze to his. “I’m sure she’l be just fine. Be

sides, you’re doing such a good job, I wouldn’t want to interfere.” She dropped her eyes meaningful y to where his hand laid on Moira’s back.

Moira rewarded him with a wan smile. “She’s right, Rory. I’m feelin’ much improved. Ye have a calming touch.”

“Mayhap it would be best if ye retire for the evenin’, Moira. ’Twas a long ride and yer a bit peaked,” her brother commiserated.

She nodded. Peeking at Rory from beneath her long lashes, she placed a dainty hand upon his arm. “Would it be too much to ask fer ye to see me to my room?”

“’Twould be my pleasure.” Rory offered his arm. Moira politely bid the table and those gathered in the hal good eve. Rory could feel the scrutiny of the many eyes upon his back as he left the hal . His clan was hopeful that he’d agree to the match and give them a fighting chance against the MacDonald. And Aileanna, he wondered, what was it he’d see in her eyes? More than curious, he glanced over his shoulder, but her gaze did not fol ow him. She was too busy listening to some tale his brother told. He cursed under his breath.

“Did ye say somethin’, Rory?” Moira enquired sweetly.

“Nay.” He looked down at the petite brunette at his side. She reminded him of Brianna in her nature, but she had her health and wouldn’t take to her bed as his wife had. The match would benefit his clan, of that he had no doubt, and they al but begged him to comply. It would be no hardship on his part. She was bonny and would know his LORD OF THE ISLES

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expectations, not question him or demand more than he was wil ing to give. Then why had he not yet signed his name to the contract?

They climbed the stairs in companionable silence until they reached the upper hal and his rooms. Moira stopped in front of his chamber door and ran her finger along its smooth planes. “This is yer chambers, Rory, is it no’?”

Something in the look she gave him made him uncom

fortable and he scrubbed a hand along the stubble on his jaw. “Aye.” He al but croaked the word out. She closed the distance between them and dropped her voice. “Would ye no’ like to show me yer rooms, Rory?”

She pressed her palm to his chest.

He gently removed her hand and said, “Nay, ’tis no’

proper, Moira.”

“Then place me in the room adjoinin’ ye and no one would have to ken. ’Twould be good fer us to spend some private time together, doona’ ye think?”

“I canna’ do that. Lady Aileanna already occupies the room.”

“The room beside yers— she resides there?” Her voice grew shril , her face pinched.

“Aye. It grows late, Moira. I’l see you to yer chambers,”

he said, his words clipped.

“Ye had best remove her from that room, Rory MacLeod, or I wil no’ al ow my brother to sign the be trothal papers. I wil na’ have ye sleepin’ with yer leman while I’m under the same roof.”

Rory bit back a sharp response until he got his anger under control. He took a firm hold of her elbow and guided her none too gently down the dimly lit corridor. As they were about to round the corner, he heard the rustle of silks and the resounding click of a door in the direction from whence they’d come. He knew who it was without looking and had no doubt she’d heard what Moira said. 128

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He came to an abrupt halt outside of Moira’s chambers and brought her around to face him. “Lady Aileanna is a lady, and I remind you to remember that. She saved my life and those of my clan. And, Moira, the papers have no’

been drawn up yet. It hasna’ been that long since I buried my wife and I’m no’ even certain I wish to take another.”

Her face crumpled. “I’m sorry, Rory.” She clasped his hand between hers, bringing it to her breast. “Please, for give me.”

He felt the soft, heated skin beneath his hand, the quick

ening of her heartbeat, and abruptly disengaged himself from her grasp. “’Tis forgotten. Good sleep, Lady Moira. I wil see you on the morrow.” His tone was curt. He couldn’t get away from her fast enough, angry at what she accused Aileanna of being, and what it would do to her reputation if Moira chose to spread her tales. The decision Moira now forced him to make fueled his anger. Once inside his chambers Rory hesitated before he strode to the door that adjoined the two rooms. He heard a crash. The wood shuddered beneath his hand. He wrenched it open, his gaze drawn to the overturned trunk and the brightly colored gowns that spil ed onto the floor. Aileanna stood by the bed with her back to him.

“Aileanna?”

She put up a hand and shook her head.

Rory ignored her request and reached for her. “Aileanna, what were you doin’? Are you hurt?”

Beneath his hand her shoulder stiffened. She took a step away, then turned. Violet eyes looked up at him. “I’m doing as your bride-to-be demanded. I was going to take the gowns, and then I realized they’re not mine to take—

nothing is.” She looked at the candle beside the bed and blinked her eyes.

“Aileanna.” He brushed his knuckles along her cheek.

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“Don’t . . . don’t touch me,” she cried out in a strangled voice. “Please, don’t.”

Rory dropped his hand. “The gowns are yers. Anythin’

you want from this room is yers.” He took a deep breath.

“But ’tis best you take another room, Aileanna. I wil na’

have yer reputation besmirched. I hadna’ considered the consequences, and I should have.”

“I’m sure it is for the best, and of course you wouldn’t want to jeopardize the match with the MacLeans.”

He scrubbed his hands over his face. “I have no’ made up my mind on the matter, Aileanna. No’ yet.”

“But in the end we both know what you’l do, Rory. You always do what’s best for the clan, and so you should.” She knelt on the floor and gathered the gowns to her chest before she rose unsteadily to her feet. With her head held high she left the room.

Chapter 11

Anger overrode her humiliation as Ali watched the young mother hurry into the cottage, her sickly infant clutched to her chest. “I don’t understand why she won’t let me look at the baby, Cal um. I’m sure I could find some way to help him.” She glanced back at the blond man who shadowed her as she went unsuccessful y from one cottage to the next, checking on those Mrs. Mac had asked her to look in on. Not one of them had al owed her anywhere near them. You would think she carried the plague.

Her childhood insecurities resurfaced. Feelings of being unwanted, of not belonging, taunted her. She thought she’d overcome them, put them behind her, but coming to Dunve

gan had forced her to contend with them once more. Her hard-won armor was slipping, al owing the pointed barbs to pierce her self-confidence and a heart battered more times than she cared to remember. Cal um appeared sympathetic. “’Twil take time is al , Lady Aileanna.”

“That baby may not have time.” She took his hand as he helped her over a fal en log. “Does this have anything to do with the priest?”

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“Nay, ’tis on account they doona’ ken ye, and mayhap—”

He hesitated, looking decidedly uncomfortable.

“Cal um, I’m sure whatever you say can’t hurt my feel

ings anymore than they already have been.” Good Lord, why did I feel the need to blurt that out?

He looked toward Dunvegan. Only the tower remained visible above the soaring pines. “In the hal this morn Lady MacLean questioned yer loyalties. She said as how ye were a spy sent by the MacDonald to turn the men’s heads, gettin’ them to spil their plans with yer bonny looks. Her voice carried loud enough fer al to hear.”

Ali cursed under her breath. She should have gone down to breakfast instead of putting her new rooms to right. At least she could have defended herself. Then again, she would have had to face Rory and Moira MacLean. And if she was honest, Ali would admit that was the real reason she’d stayed to putter in her chambers.

“But Ro—Lord MacLeod must have come to my de

fense. He knows—”

Cal um interrupted her. “’Twas Fergus and Iain who sought to protect ye, my lady. I thought they did a fair job mind ye, but it seems some of the clan chose to believe Lady Moira.” He shrugged apologetical y.

“I’m thankful they at least tried.” Fergus and Iain—but not Rory. He actual y thought she was a spy, out to harm his beloved clan. Despite the heat, she shivered. “What about you, Cal um—do you think I’m a spy?”

“Nay, my lady, yer speech and ways are a mite strange, but I doona’ think ye’d bring us harm,” he said with a gentle look on his face.

She tilted her head to look up at him. “Is that why you accompany me instead of Connor?”

“Aye, Lord MacLeod was concerned fer yer safety after Lady Moira’s—”

“If he was so concerned with my safety, why didn’t he

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defend me?” Her anger flared as she pictured Rory sitting silently by while his betrothed maligned her character to everyone gathered in the hal .

Cal um winced. “Lady MacLean was verra upset that ye meant to bring harm to the laird and he was busy comfortin’

her.”

Ali snorted. “I’m sure he was.”

“But doona’ fear, my lady, Fergus wil na’ al ow anyone to speak against ye in his presence.” The big man smiled.

“He’s verra protective of ye, as is the laird’s brother.”

“That’s something to be thankful for at least.” Her head jerked up at the sound of a sharp crack and the rustle of branches. Cal um shoved her behind him and drew his sword.

Peering around his bulky frame, Ali scanned the cluster of trees. If that little witch got her kil ed because of her stupid accusations, she’d make her life hel . And how are you going to do that? the voice in her head snorted. You’ll be dead.

“ Oh, be quiet,” Ali muttered.

“Shh, my lady,” Cal um admonished, his eyes fixed on their surroundings.

“There’s nothing out there,” she whispered, just as a streak of brown darted amongst the pines.

“Halt,” her protector growled. “Show yerself.”

Out from behind a tree stepped the young boy who’d stood up for Ali and Mari the other day in the hal . “What are ye doin’ so far from home, Jamie Cameron?” Cal um resheathed his sword; the tension in his stance eased.

“I’m goin’ to the glen to train with the laird.”

“I doona’ think so, laddie. Yer mother wil na’ be al owin’ that, I’m certain.”

Ali heard the rumble of laughter in the big man’s words as she stepped from behind him.

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young boy began to march in the direction from where they’d come.

For a man his size, Cal um was quick. He had Jamie by the col ar before he’d ventured more than a foot. “Aye, ye wil . I ken yer mother wel , laddie, and if she catches ye anywhere near the glen, she’l tan yer hide.”

Jamie glared at Cal um, a mutinous expression on his freckled face.

“Save yer wee looks. They’l do no good on me. Now, come with me and Lady Aileanna. I’l see ye home.” Cal um nudged him onto the trail ahead of them. The boy grumbled, kicking at any stone that happened to be in his way.

“How is it ye got away from yer mother in the first place?

I hear she’s been keepin’ a tight rein on ye these days.”

The boy shrugged. “She’s helpin’ in the kitchens. They’re busy preparin’ fer the big feast Lady MacLean has or dered.”

“I imagine they’l be needin’ extra hands. ’Twil be as hot as Hades in the kitchens this day.” Cal um shook his head, muttering under his breath.

“I don’t suggest you kick that one, Jamie. You’l break your toe,” Ali advised absently as the boy drew back his foot to strike a rock the size of a watermelon. “Is there a special reason for the feast, Cal um?” Ali asked, keeping her voice as casual as she could despite the tension build

ing inside her.

“The MacLeans are expectin’ some of their kin to arrive at Dunvegan this day. ’Tis said they’re bringin’ word of the adventurers, but I’m thinkin’ there’s more to it than that.”

“Oh, I thought maybe it was a . . . a wedding feast,” Ali said, the relief in her voice obvious; unable to deny, at least to herself, that she didn’t want Rory to marry Moira MacLean. And it had nothing to do with her wanting him, Ali reassured herself. She just couldn’t imagine him being happy with that woman. LORD OF THE ISLES

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“Nay, but I fear ’twil no’ be long before ’tis.”

“Why . . . why would you say that?” Ali grabbed ahold of Cal um’s arm as she stumbled over the same rock she’d warned Jamie about and cursed inwardly. Cal um shrugged as they came to the clearing. With no trees to shield them from the sun, the searing rays beat down upon them. “The laird has no choice, my lady. He has to make a decision verra soon. ’Twas al the talk in the hal this morn.”

“Was that before or after the discussion of me being a spy?”

Cal um chuckled. “’Twas after.” Shaking his head, he clapped a big hand on Jamie’s shoulder as the boy picked up his pace. “Nay, yer no’ gettin’ off that easy, laddie. ’Tis to yer mother ye go.”

The boy wiggled out from beneath Cal um’s hand and stomped through the wildflowers, pul ing the heads off those he didn’t manage to tromp.

Ali picked a bel flower that managed to escape Jamie’s wrath and sniffed its fragrant petals. She twirled the flower between her fingers, then returned her attention to Cal um, who kept a close eye on the boy.

“Are you happy about the match between the MacLeans and the MacLeods, Cal um?”

“Fer the clan, aye. Fer the man, nay.”

Ali pushed her hair back from where it lay plastered to her cheek. “Why?”

He gave her a long, considering look. “I ken we’re in need of the men the match would provide, but I doona’ think ’tis fair our laird should sacrifice a chance at happiness.”

“You don’t think he’l be happy with Lady MacLean?”

Cal um cocked his head to study her. “Nay, I ken there’s another who interests him. One who would be a true part ner to him.”

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“Real y.” Ali cleared her throat. “I didn’t think Lord MacLeod would ever love again.”

He grinned. “I think you ken wel enough, my lady. I’m no’ blind.” Cal um didn’t give Ali a chance to respond—

not that she could. He’d struck her dumb. You could knock her over with a feather. What had she done to make him think she was in love with Rory? She must have misunder

stood. He couldn’t possibly mean to imply Rory was in love with her.

Rattled by his comment, she stumbled through the long grass after him until they were within a few feet of the kitchens. The heavy oak door flung open at their approach. A woman Ali recognized as Jamie’s mother came into view, her face flushed, her gray gown flattened to her body. She leaned against the wal for support. As though only then becoming aware of them, she squinted past the sweat rol ing off her forehead.

“Jamie Cameron, what have ye gone and done now?”

Wearily she pushed herself off the stone wal , wiping her sleeve across her brow. Cal um placed a steadying hand beneath the woman’s elbow. “Doona’ fash yerself, Janet. We met up with him on the path is al .”

Janet looked from her son to Cal um. The boy, who had paled at his mother’s question, now beamed at the blond giant as though he was his savior. Which Ali was fairly certain he was. Janet Cameron might be smal , but the woman seemed fierce. Cal um gave Jamie a furtive wink. The young boy winked back, but his mother caught him, and no matter how many times he blinked to cover it up—

the game was over.

“Nay . . . nay.” Janet shook her head, dark spiral curls escaping from beneath her white cap. “I’l have the truth, Cal um.” She rounded on him, her chest heaving.

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The big man held out his hands in surrender. “Janet,

’twas nothin’. The lad wanted to go to the glen is al .”

“Oh, that’s al , is it? He only wanted to go to the glen and play at makin’ war with the rest of ye fools. Is it no’ bad enough I’ve lost his da, now I’m to lose him, too,” the woman said on a broken sob, burying her face in her hands.

“Hush, Janet. I’l no’ let anythin’ happen to wee Jamie. I promise ye that.”

Cal um awkwardly patted her on the back while her young son looked on. Jamie’s face was beet red, his hands bal ed into smal fists at his sides. Ali could see he tried his best not to cry, and her heart went out to him. Janet pul ed away from Cal um and brought her greasespattered apron to her face and wiped at her tears. “I’m sorry, my lady. I’m tired is al .”

“Please, don’t apologize. I understand how you feel, real y I do. Not about your loss by any means, but your sentiments.” She took a hesitant step toward Janet and squeezed her arm, steeling herself for the rebuff she was sure would fol ow, but none did.

Janet patted her hand in return. “Thank ye,” she said quietly. “Now ’tis back to the kitchens fer me. Her lady ship has ordered a feast and a feast there’l be, even if it kil s us,” she remarked dryly. “And, Jamie, me lad, ye best be right here when next I take a wee rest.”

“Janet, you’re exhausted. Go home with Jamie and I’l help Cook in the kitchens.”

The three of them looked at Ali as if she’d grown two heads. She grimaced. “What?” Glancing toward the kitchens, she lowered her voice. “Do you real y think Cook would try to kil me if I go in there?”

Janet and Cal um shared a laugh. “Nay, but ’tis no’ right ye bein’ in the kitchens, ye bein’ a lady and al .”

Ali cut her off with a wave of her hand. “For the moment, I think it’s the best place for me.” It was true. Ali knew if she 138

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went anywhere near Moira MacLean she’d tel the woman exactly what she thought of her, and none of it was good. She waved good-bye to Jamie and Janet, and final y to Cal um. It took five attempts before she was able to reassure him that she real y did want to work in the kitchens. And no, she wasn’t suffering from heat stroke. And yes, she was sure she’d be safe enough—unless you included Cook and his kitchen knife. Upon opening the kitchen door a blast of hot, humid air sucked Ali’s breath from her. She grabbed hold of the doorframe before venturing down the three stone steps into the kitchen. The sweltering heat and smoke-laden air caused her eyes to sting.

Cook sat on a stool, slouched over the heavily scored wooden table. He turned his head to look at Ali, his face gray, his lips parched. “Dear Lord, I doona’ ken what I did to deserve this much punishment in one day.” His words were slurred.

Ali ignored his comment and hurried to his side. She re

moved the knife from his hand. “Have you had anything to drink?”

“Nay.” He shook his head, eyes drooping. Ali knelt at his side, pul ing his lower lid down. “Come on,” she said, tugging him to his feet. “You have to get out of here before you drop dead.”

“Nay.” He tried to fight her off, but was too weak. “We are no’ done preparin’ the feast.” He waved limply at the two open flames where four young girls tended to a huge caul

dron and a spit that held a pig. They didn’t look as though they fared much better than Cook. She tightened her hold on the man and nudged him forward. “Girls, you come, too. Out you go,” Ali said as she managed to get him up the last step. The young maids exchanged worried glances. Their hands twisted in their aprons. It was then Ali recognized three of the four. They were the girls that had abused Mari

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in the courtyard. Ali tamped down her anger. It was the first time she’d seen them since that day. Mrs. Mac had assured her they’d been punished, and Ali guessed this was it.

“But, my lady, there is stil much to do,” said a girl Ali didn’t recognize.

“Wel , you won’t be getting it done if you pass out, now wil you? Come on.” She waved them up the steps. “We have to get you out of this heat and get some fluids into you.”

Once outside, Ali lowered Cook to the ground and propped him against the outside wal of the kitchens. The girls stumbled into the bright sunlight and sank down alongside him. Ali went back in and stirred what looked to be a thick stew. She wrinkled her nose at the pig on the spit. She cranked the handle, but barely managed to get it halfway around.

A low cackle from behind her startled Ali and she jumped. A stooped old woman, her face as wrinkled as a prune, appeared at her side. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know anyone else was here,” Ali apologized.

“Ye canna’ do it yerself, lass.” The woman placed gnarled hands over Ali’s and between the two of them they managed a ful turn of the spit.

Beads of sweat dripped from Ali’s forehead and she lifted her arm to wipe it from her face. “Has any of the water been boiled or heated? I have to get Cook to drink something.”

“Aye.” The woman pointed to an iron pot that hung toward the back of the flames.

“Thank you. You should get out of this heat, too, at least for a little while,” Ali suggested as she carried the pot to the table, her hands wrapped in linens. Although, despite her age, Ali thought the old woman looked in better con dition than the rest of them.

“Nay, I’m good, lass. I’ve no’ been here long.” She gave Ali a gap-toothed smile. 140

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“I’l be back in a few minutes to help,” Ali said as she fil ed the last of the mugs. “I just have to get them to drink this and find some way to cool them off.”

“There’s a wel at the back of the kitchens. Throw a big bucket on Cook. It should do the trick.” Cackling, the woman walked to the other end of the room, wel away from the open flames.

Ali managed to get the mugs to her patients without spil ing more than a few drops. The girls drank greedily. She held the mug to Cook’s mouth, trying to get him to drink, but had little success. “Girls, you make him drink, slowly though, and I’l get some water from the wel .”

“I can help ye, my lady,” the petite girl with the curly brown hair offered. Ali noted her flushed cheeks. “As long as you think you’re up to it.”

“Aye, I’ve been workin’ in the kitchens fer a long time. This day’s worse than most, but I’m more accustomed to it than the other girls.”

“Thank you . . .”

“Katrina, my lady.”

With Katrina’s help Ali wet down Cook, the girls, and un

intentional y herself. They helped to settle Cook beneath the big oak tree she’d spotted not far from the wel . The girls in

sisted they were fine and accompanied her back to the kitchen. In companionable silence, Ali and the young girls, along with the old woman, worked together. Ali was regu

lated to more of a fetch-and-carry position, which suited her just fine. Their assumption that her lack of knowledge was a result of her being a lady worked in Ali’s favor. Drenched with perspiration and splattered with grease, her cornflower blue gown hung on her like a rag. Ali sank onto a stool and surveyed the three trestle tables that groaned under the weight of the food. “That’s it, ladies. There’s enough here to feed an army.”

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“But . . . but, my lady,” one of the girls sputtered, “Lady MacLean wil no’ be pleased. ’Tis no’ al of her menu.”

“Katrina, you said you’ve worked in the kitchens a long time. Is this enough food to feed the numbers they’re expecting?”

“Aye, more than enough.”

“But Lady MacLean wants it special.” The other girl was clearly upset, winding her apron around her fingers. Ali sighed. With a hand to her back, she rose to her feet.

“You leave Lady MacLean to me.” She heard a familiar cackle from the back of the room and smiled. Removing the apron one of the girls had given her, she set it on the stool.

“You’ve al done a wonderful job, and I’m sure it’s a meal Lord MacLeod wil be proud to serve his guests. I’m going to head back to the keep now. Leave Cook to sleep for a bit longer, but if he takes a turn for the worse, come and get me.”

“My lady,” Katrina cal ed out as Ali went to leave.

“Thank ye fer al yer help. ’Tis no’ often a lady would lower herself to aid the likes of us.”

Ali’s throat tightened, and she swal owed past the bal of emotion. “It was my pleasure and, Katrina, in no way did I lower myself. Don’t ever think that.”

“Lady Aileanna, have a care around Lady MacLean,”

the old woman advised, her pale blue eyes piercing even from across the dimly lit room. “Laird MacLean as wel . The two of them have it in fer ye. I’l do what I can to help ye, lass, but it would be best if ye had a care.” Having said her piece, the old woman slipped out through a back en

trance Ali hadn’t noticed before.

“Who . . . who is that?” Ali asked, turning to the girls.

“’Tis old lady Cameron. She holds sway over much of the clan. A good one to have in yer corner with what—”

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it. “Obviously Lady MacLean’s accusations have spread far and wide.”

“We doona’ believe them, Lady Aileanna, and we’l tel as many who wil listen,” Katrina promised. The other girls chimed in their agreement.

“Thank you. Now why don’t you al go out and sit under the tree with Cook for a bit.”

The four of them smiled, but it seemed they chose to ignore her suggestion as they busied themselves with one task after another. Ali left them, her protest dying on her lips. She might object to their being treated like slave labor, but it was obvious they didn’t feel the same. They were proud to provide for their clan, and it wasn’t Ali’s place to disabuse them. She wouldn’t, but she was going to make damn sure their efforts were appreciated. Exhausted, Ali barely managed to shove the heavy doors to the keep open. The air in the cavernous entrance was de cidedly cooler than the kitchens—a welcome relief. She lifted her hair to shake out some of the dampness and noticed the gleaming floors and the high sheen of the wood paneling. Ali rol ed her eyes—Moira MacLean. She wondered how Mrs. Mac and Mari had fared. Hopeful y they’d had the good sense to hide out in her room. Two serving girls smiled wanly at her greeting. Just as she was about to take the stairs to her room, she heard Mari cry out. Ali rushed into the great hal , fol owing her young maid’s panicked cry. Mrs. Mac swayed on top of a very tal wooden stool, broom in hand. “For God’s sake, Mrs. Mac, what are you doing up there?” Ali cal ed out as she hurried across the room.

Ali reached her side and steadied the makeshift ladder.

“You get down from there, right now.”

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Ali took the broom from her and handed it to Mari. “I’l do it. I’m tal er than you are. Come on, off you get.”

Mrs. Mac sighed. “’Tis a bossy one you are,” she said, climbing down from her perch. Ali reached out to steady her. “Look at the two of you. You’re exhausted.”

“You doona’ look much better yerself, my lady. I didna’

think her highness would put you to work as wel .” Mrs. Mac raised a brow.

“She didn’t. It’s a long story,” Ali said as she careful y climbed to the top of the stool, steadying herself with a hand on the stone wal . “And where is her ladyship? ”

“She’d be havin’ her toilette seen to,” Mari said, hand

ing her the broom.

Ali beat the long banner. Clouds of dust bil owed in the air, making her cough. “Is that right?” She seethed as she pounded the cloth with renewed vigor.

The continuous loud thwack of the wooden broom hitting stone drowned out the sound of the men returning home. It was why when Rory’s deep voice cal ed out to her, Ali, who was lost in her own thoughts, forgot where she was and jumped. Losing her footing, she grabbed hold of the edge of the banner. The stool toppled over, leaving Ali to swing pre

cariously above the floor. The panicked cries of Mari and Mrs. Mac drowned out everyone but Rory. Rory’s heart slammed in his chest at the sight of Aileanna clinging to his clan’s colors. “Bloody hel , lass,” he yel ed, positioning himself beneath her. “What are you doin’?”

“What does it look like?” She glared down at him, her eyes flashing.

“Let go and I’l catch you.” He held up his arms, widen

ing his stance.

“No.” She jerked her head in the direction of the stool.

“Just put it back up.”

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go.” Rory didn’t have to cajole her further. The fabric gave way with a loud rip, and whether she liked it or not, Aileanna landed with a whoosh in his arms. If he could go by the look in her stormy blue eyes, she didn’t like it one bit.

“Rory, yer back,” a voice of pure femininity cal ed out breathlessly. When Rory turned with Aileanna in his arms, Moira’s sweet smile of welcome faltered. A degree of ici

ness frosted her manner. “What goes on here?”

He had barely set Aileanna on her feet when she strode toward Moira. “What’s going on here is everyone’s practi cal y kil ing themselves catering to your every whim. Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Do you?” Aileanna cried, her voice shril , an accusatory finger wagging in Moira’s pale face. Rory grabbed her arm. “That wil be enough, Aileanna.”

She whirled on him, jabbing her finger in his chest.

“Wil it? Is it enough that she practical y kil ed Cook de

manding a meal fit for a king, and in this heat?” Her chest heaved, and white-hot anger radiated off her. Moira sobbed into her hands and her delicate shoul

ders trembled. “Oh, Rory, I didna’ ken. I only meant to make ye proud.”

He looked from one woman to the other. Aileanna’s rage was barely contained. “You wil apologize to Lady Moira, Aileanna.” It was not right her going off on Moira like she did. The MacLeans were guests in his home, and Moira had obviously meant no harm.

had obviously meant no harm.

Aileanna narrowed her gaze on him. She picked up the broom from the floor and slammed it into his chest. “If you want an apology, do it yourself. And while you’re at it, you might want to do the rest of her bidding. That way you may have some servants left by morning.”

“Aileanna, you wil come back here and apologize,” he roared to her retreating back.

“Stuff it,” she yel ed at him as she marched up the stairs. Chapter 12

“Stuff it. She told me to stuff it. Do you ken the meanin’

of that?” Rory asked Fergus, who stood across from where he sat at his desk in the relative quiet of his study. His old friend shrugged, a glint of amusement in his eyes.

“I take it to mean she’s a wee bit fashed with you.”

“With me? The woman is daft, goin’ off on poor Moira like she did.”

Fergus crossed his arms over his chest and raised a bushy brow. Rory threw up his hands in disgust. “You canna’

mean to defend her. She goes too far. Even you who are bewitched by the lass have to admit ’tis so.”

“Aileanna’s a healer, lad, and was angry at the state of yer help. Did you no’ take note of the look of her? I’d say she fared no better than the rest.”

Rory leaned his elbows on his desk and rubbed his temples—he had. She’d been wet and filthy, a bedraggled mess, signs of weariness visible on her pale, drawn face. He had been concerned about her, more than he cared to admit, but before he could question her, Moira had entered the hal and Aileanna sprang into action like a crazed woman.

“What the hel went on here?”

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“Doona’ ask me, lad. Have you forgotten . . . I was with you?”

Rory glared, in no mood for humor. “Cal um!” he roared. Despite the closed door, he had no doubt the man was close enough to hear him.

Cal um entered and shut the door on the curious faces gathered outside. “You cal ed, my laird.” He fought back a grin.

“’Tis no time for jokes, Cal um. Now, tel me what went on to put Aileanna in such a state.”

The big man held Rory’s gaze. “She tried to see to some of the clan and they shunned her. Wouldna’ let her near them on account of Lady MacLean’s accusations in the hal this morn. I ken she was hurt by it, though she didna’

say much.”

A stab of guilt twisted in Rory’s gut at the thought she suffered on account of him. If he had not been busy pla cating Moira, he would have defended Aileanna himself and not left it to Fergus and Iain. The clan had obviously taken his silence to mean he concurred with Moira’s accu

sations. Moira’s sweetness reminded him more of his late wife than Aileanna, who so closely resembled her physi cal y, and he found himself trying to protect Moira as he had failed to protect Brianna. He cleared his throat. “And that was it?”

Cal um shrugged. “We met up with wee Jamie, takin’

himself off to join ye in the glen he was.”

Rory grunted. “Janet would no’ be pleased.”

“Nay, she wasna’. She’d been helpin’ Cook in the kitchens and Lady Aileanna offered to take her place so she could tend to the lad.”

Rory stared at the man, certain he misunderstood him.

“You canna’ mean to say she worked in the kitchens.”

“I ken it was what she intended on doin’. But I’m no’

certain Cook would let her past the door.”

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“I’m certain he wouldna’. Fergus send Iain to speak with Cook. He has a way with the mon.”

“I’l see to him myself. Iain is busy seein’ to Aileanna.”

The muscle in Rory’s jaw pulsated. His hands clenched into fists. The thought of his brother comforting Aileanna brought him to the edge of his control. Both men eyed him expectantly, as though they awaited an outburst, but he re fused to give them the satisfaction. He denied them the confirmation that she’d gotten under his skin, into his heart. He knew that’s what they thought. Fergus had said as much.

When Fergus opened the door to leave, Cyril and his cousin pushed past him. Fergus shot Rory a questioning look and he shook his head. Wel aware of what Cyril wanted, Rory thought it best Fergus was out of earshot.

“Rory, what do ye intend to do with that . . . that woman?”

Cyril demanded, waving his hands in a dramatic fashion.

“Doona’ worry, I’l deal with Aileanna in my own way. Now if you have nothin’ further to add, I need to speak to my housekeeper. Cal um, tel Mrs. Mac I’d like to have a word with her.” Cal um gave him a curt nod and went to do his bidding, leveling Cyril with a cold, hard stare before he left the study.

“Wel . . . wel , I never.” The man puffed up like a peacock.

“Yer household is in sore need of discipline if ye ask me.”

Rory reclined in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. “I didna’. Aidan, you look to be gearin’ up to give me a piece of yer mind. Why doona’ you get if off yer chest?”

“Nay, cousin, sittin’ back and enjoyin’ the wee show is al .” Aidan leaned against the book-lined shelf and grinned.

“I hope Lady Aileanna wil be joinin’ us fer the evenin’

meal. The lass is verra entertainin’ and has an interestin’

way with words. Stuff it—is that what she told ye to do?”

Before Rory could respond, Cyril hotly interrupted. “Ye 148

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canna’ mean to have that woman join us this eve, Rory. ’T

would be most upsettin’ to poor Moira.”

“I’m sorry fer that, Cyril, but I fear I doona’ have much choice. If I did, several members of my household wil see I pay fer the slight.”

His cousin guffawed. “I never thought I’d see the day the great Rory Mor was brought low by a woman.”

Rory stifled his response when Mrs. Mac entered his study, drying her hands on her apron. It didn’t take much to note her displeasure upon seeing Cyril there.

“Cyril, Aidan, I’l speak with you later.” He dismissed the two men.

They had barely left the room when Mrs. Mac said,

“You’d best get on with it. I have much to see to with al the guests aboot to arrive.”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Mac. I didna’ ken the invitation had been extended until it was too late. I think Moira—” Rory stopped himself, wel aware Moira MacLean was not one of Mrs. Mac’s favorites. He thought it best not to tel her Moira had assumed by this time the betrothal would be as good as done, and thought to celebrate with her kin this eve. Rory didn’t have the heart to deny her, but stil , he would not commit to making the announcement and had spent most of his time on the field, avoiding Cyril. For some reason his cousin had kept his pestering to a minimum, but every so often Rory had sensed Aidan watching him. They’d been close as boys. Aidan had fos tered with them in his youth, and Rory thought him as much a brother as Iain.

“What is it yer wantin’ to ken?” she asked, wiping the back of her hand across her forehead.

“What was Aileanna doin’ in the hal ?”

“Cleanin’ the banner in my stead.”

“And why were you cleanin’ the bloody thing in the first place?”

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“’Tis what her ladyship demanded. Wantin’ the keep al shiny fer her kin. Showin’ off what she’s marryin’ into.”

“Mrs. Mac, I doona’ think—”

“Och, wel , I ken that.” She looked down her nose at him. Rory kneaded the muscles at the back of his neck, look ing up when Fergus reentered the study. “Did Cook al ow her in his kitchens?”

“He didna’ exactly let her—”

Rory threw up his hands. “You see, ’tis as I thought. I kent Cal um must have been mistaken.”

“Nay, you didna’ give me a chance to finish. The kitchens were like a bloody inferno and the lass got them out of there. Cook was in a bad way. He’s stil no’ himself. I’ve sent him to his bed, but doona’ worry, the lasses have it under con

trol. There’s food enough for an army. You’l no’ be disap

pointed.” The censure in the look Fergus gave him irked Rory, and the one Mrs. Mac added to it didn’t help.

“I ken what the two of you are thinkin’, but yer no’ bein’

fair to Lady MacLean. She’d no’ hurt a fly. She only meant to please me.”

Mrs. Mac grumbled something about stupid men and left the room without so much as a by-your-leave. Rory stood abruptly and his chair scraped across the floor, punctuating the tense silence between Rory and his old friend.

“Just so you ken, the lasses were singin’Aileanna’s praises. She worked alongside them fer most of the day. I gather old lady Cameron was there as wel . I ran across a few of the men she tore a strip off when they dared to say a word against Aileanna. It seems our lady has another protector.” A wide grin split Fergus’s face. Rory tamped down a surge of pride for Aileanna and what she’d done. It was admirable; she was an incredible woman, but it did not give her the right to go on as she had 150

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in the hal , ranting at Moira, and worse, taking him to task in front of his men and guests.

“Where are you goin’, lad?” Fergus questioned him as he left the study.

“To speak to Lady Aileanna,” he shot over his shoulder as he took the stairs two at a time, unwil ing to consider his need to go to her.

His brother descended the staircase as Rory ascended, and Iain grabbed hold of his arm. “You’l no’ upset her, Rory. She’s exhausted.”

Rory shook off his hand and leaned toward him. “I wil do as I see fit, brother. And no’ you, nor anyone else wil tel me otherwise.”

His brother thumped him in the middle of the chest with his finger. “Doona’ do it, Rory, or you wil answer to me.”

Iain didn’t back down as he so often did in their confronta

tions, and it surprised and angered Rory. His brother had al but declared Aileanna his, and Rory, who remained in control at al times, even in the heat of battle, felt the thin rein he held on his temper snap. He saw red. His blood boiled. He grabbed Iain’s hand and shoved him hard against the wal .

The pounding of feet on the stairs penetrated the veil of rage that filmed his eyes. Fergus grabbed hold of the arm he drew back to pummel his brother with, and Aidan wedged himself between them, his eyes glinting with amusement.

“’Tis quite the show yer puttin’ on fer yer guests, cousins, but might I suggest we take this up at another time. And I must insist ye let me partake in the sport. ’Tis been a long time since I’ve gone a round with the two of ye.”

Rory broke free of Fergus and lowered his hand, his fist clenching and unclenching at his side. Aidan clapped a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Mayhap ’twould be best if ye saw to the lass after ye’ve had time—” His cousin met Rory’s gaze and he shrugged. “And mayhap no’.”

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Iain tried to shove Aidan aside, but their cousin held firm.

“Rory!” his brother shouted over his cousin’s shoulder. Aidan shook his head, turning to pin Iain in place.

“Doona’ be a fool, lad. Come, leave yer brother be and have some ale with me.”

Rory didn’t wait for Iain’s response. He ignored the ex

cited chatter below and brushed past the two maids who gaped at him as he strode down the corridor toward Aileanna’s room.

Mrs. Mac had informed him last eve she’d set Aileanna up in his mother’s chambers, a room Rory hadn’t entered in years. His parents’ suite in the east wing of the keep held bittersweet memories for him, and he’d wondered at the time if Mrs. Mac had taken some perverse pleasure in placing her there. Rory leaned against the wal outside Aileanna’s room, al owing the coolness of the stone to calm the raw emotion that warred within him. He’d almost convinced himself his cousin was right and he should confront Aileanna at a later time. But the iron handle was already beneath his hand, and he eased the door open before he could stop himself. Stepping across the threshold, his jaw dropped. His breath stuttered in his chest at the sight that greeted him, and he couldn’t move. His gaze riveted on Aileanna in her bath. Her lush curves, ful , milky white breasts and satiny smooth skin glistened. If he was a gentleman he’d leave, but he’d warned her before he wasn’t, not with her. He couldn’t pul his eyes from her dusky rose nipples, her narrow waist, or the gentle curve of her rounded hip, even if he wanted to. He was enchanted, bewitched. She drew her long, slender legs toward her as she washed her hair beneath the water.

He should leave before she saw him. Before he could no longer contain the raging heat unfurling in his bel y and kneel at her side to take those jutting nipples into his 152

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mouth. Cup her breasts in his hands, knead them, taste every sweet inch of her. His cock throbbed in the tight confines of his trews, begging to be released, to drive into her. He had to get out of there, but as he turned to go the door inexplicably slammed closed. Aileanna emerged from beneath the water, eyes squeezed shut. Her long hair formed a curtain over her breasts; only her nipples peeked through, pebbled, primed for his attention.

“Oh, thank goodness, Mari, I’ve got soap in my eyes. Hand me a towel, please.”

Rory couldn’t help himself. He was drawn to her, a pul too great to deny, like a raging thirst needing to be quenched. She rose from the tub and stood but a breath away, so beautiful, so ripe. He could touch her if he dared. Trail his finger alongside the bead of water that dripped from the tip of a rosy bud over her flat stomach to rest in the silky curls at the juncture of her thighs. His fingers itched to stroke her there, to dip inside her moist velvet heat and make her moan in pleasure. Soft sounds he had heard her murmur once before, and had never forgotten. His breathing grew ragged, and his hand hovered above his stiff cock. She reached out blindly and Rory picked up the towel ing from the floor and placed it in her outstretched hand.

“Thank you,” she said as she brought it to her face. “Tel me, has his highness stopped his ranting and raving?” Her words were muffled behind the toweling.

“He has,” he said, his voice thick and low. Ali squealed. Her feet slipped as she tried to leap from the tub holding the towel in front of her. The soap blurred her vision, but she didn’t need her sight to know it was him. His deep smooth voice, his clean masculine scent, and the tingle of awareness she always felt whenever he was in the same room left her with no doubt it was Rory. Big hands, cal oused and strong, gripped her upper LORD OF THE ISLES

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arms to steady her. “Let go.” She pounded on his chest as he hauled her from the tub.

“Shh, lass, you doona’ want to draw a crowd.” His heated breath caressed her ear.

“Why? Because they’d find out their laird spies on women while they bathe?” Her face flamed with the knowledge he’d watched her. The huge bulge pressed tight against her stomach told her so.

“How . . . how long were you standing there?”

Rory exhaled a shaky breath. “Too long. Give me a moment, Aileanna, and I wil apologize as I should.” He didn’t let her go. He took several long, deep breaths and then released her. Taking a step back from her, he ran his fingers through his wavy black hair.

“Close your eyes,” she demanded. He locked his gaze with hers, and Ali’s fingers tightened on the towel that barely covered her naked, damp body from the hunger that glittered in his heavy-lidded gaze.

“Please,” she groaned, afraid if he looked at her like that much longer she’d forget her earlier anger and drop the towel. Give in to the desire to feel his rough hands caress her naked flesh. With determination she pushed the image aside, remind

ing herself of the apology he’d demanded of her earlier, of the risk he took with her safety by not defending her against Moira MacLean’s accusations, and most damning of al —

the fact he intended to marry that woman. No matter how much she wanted him, it would never be enough. She would be nothing more than a means to slake his desire. Ali padded across the floor to the foot of the bed and slipped the delicate chemise she’d laid out before her bath over her head. She wrapped her arms around her waist and turned to face him. Her cheeks heated. “I asked you to close your eyes. Damn you, Rory. For once couldn’t you behave like a gentleman?”

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“I told you, I’m no gentleman, lass.” His voice was rough and he took a step toward her. “Sweet Jesu’ but yer beautiful, Aileanna. I—”

“No . . . no, don’t say anything else. Please, just leave.”

She held up her hand to keep him at bay, her knees weak

ening at the look he raked her body with, wel aware the fine white fabric did little to conceal her from him. With a jerky nod of his head he turned away and strode toward the door.

She cleared her throat. “Rory, what was it you wanted?”

He leaned his forehead against the door and said, “I doona’ remember.”

Chapter 13

Moira’s incessant chatter came to an abrupt end and Rory breathed a sigh of relief, until he saw what drew her attention from him. It was Aileanna, preparing to take her seat by his brother. The image of her in her bath as she rose from the water with pearls of moisture beaded on her lumi

nescent skin, her lush curves, stirred his desire as fiercely as it had only hours before. He pul ed his gaze from her and drew a deep swal ow of his ale in an effort to quench his growing lust.

“Lady Aileanna, ye wil take a seat at one of the other tables. My kin wil be requirin’ that one.” Moira gave an imperious wave of her bejeweled hand. The hard edge in her usual y sweet tone took Rory aback as much as the request.

Iain rose stiffly from his chair and gal antly offered Aileanna his arm. He led her from the dais, her cheeks stained a bright pink. His brother glared at him. Seconds later, he heard Fergus mutter under his breath before his chair scraped across the floor and he too strode from the table.

“Oh my, I didna’ mean for Iain and Fergus to leave as wel . I just couldna’ constitute that woman sitting there as though it was her God given right, after what she said to 156

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me.” Moira’s tinted lips pinched into a thin line. Her gaze narrowed to where Iain seated Aileanna; then he and Fergus each took a place beside her. “I hope ye didna’

mind, Rory.” Patting his hand, she batted her lashes at him.

“I do mind, Moira. ’Tis no’ yer right to decide who is seated at my table and who is no’.” Anger reverberated in his voice, and it took everything he had not to ask her to leave. To shout from the rafters that there would be no union

—his clan be damned. But he couldn’t do it; his loyalty, his sense of responsibility was too deeply ingrained. Moira squeezed her eyes shut and a solitary tear trick

led down her cheek. “I’ve made ye angry. I didna’ mean to upset ye, Rory, but ye must understand my reasons. I canna’ believe ye expect me to have her at the same table after what she said.” Her hand fluttered to her chest. “’Tis too much for me to abide.” Her brother handed her a hand

kerchief and she dabbed at her eyes, sniffling.

“Doona’ worry, pet, I’m certain the last thing Rory would want is to have ye upset.” Cyril who sat on the other side of his sister looked at Rory over her bowed head and jerked his chin in her direction as though he expected him to offer her some measure of comfort, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He grew tired of pandering to her tender sensibilities.

He brought the goblet to his lips, studying Aileanna over the rim. As though she sensed his perusal, she looked at him and held his gaze with hers. Strong and defiant, Aileanna would bend to no one, but she was mistaken if she thought he did not know that beneath her beautiful, tough exterior lay a heart that could be broken as easily as anyone else’s. Rory offered her a silent salute with his goblet. Her mouth curved in a slight smile, and she tipped her own in his direction.

“Rory, my aunt was askin’ ye a question,” Moira chided him.

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“I’m sorry, what was that, my lady?” He leaned forward and addressed the sharp-nosed female who sat beside Cyril.

“I was just wonderin’, Lord MacLeod, if the weddin’

wil take place before Michaelmas. I have a verra busy social calendar and—”

Rory was quick to cut her off. “I think settin’ a date is pre

mature considerin’ yer niece and I are no’ betrothed as yet.”

“But . . . but I thought—” the older woman sputtered, looking askance at her niece. “Moira, ye said—”

Moira, face flushed, rounded on him. “How could ye . . . how could ye do this to me, Rory? Cyril, ye must speak to him. I wil na’ be treated in such a manner.”

Her brother tugged at the col ar of his tunic. “Ah, Rory . . . I think mayhap ye owe Moira an apology.”

Rory sighed heavily. “The meal is bein’ served, Cyril. I doona’ ken aboot you, but I’m starvin’. We’l discuss the matter later.”

“Good . . . good. See, poppet, al wil be wel . Dry yer eyes now, that’s a good lass.”

Rory thanked one of the serving girls who placed a plat

ter of pork in front of him. He turned at his cousin’s snort of laughter. “Got yerself in a fix now, cousin. ’Twil be in terestin’ watchin’ ye maneuver yer way out of this one.”

“There’s no way out of it, Aidan, and you ken it as wel as I. We need their men.” Rory kept his voice low so only his cousin would hear him. Not that Moira who sat beside him paid him any mind. At the moment she was too busy being coddled by her brother. Rory began to think the man would join them in their marriage bed given his druthers. Aidan rubbed his forehead. “I wil be the first to admit things would go easier if we were tied to the MacLeans, but I’l no’ have ye sacrifice yerself to obtain it. I didna’ ken ye had no interest in the lass, Rory. And if I had thought there was another, I wouldna’ have pressed fer the match as I did.”

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of him, his eyes sought out Aileanna, who conversed with one of the serving girls. He smiled as the two of them shared a laugh.

“Of course no’, I can see that.” Aidan grinned. “Ye make a poor liar, Rory.” He brought his ale to his lips, shaking his head. “I’d no’ give up on that one so easily if I were ye.”

He tipped his chin in Aileanna’s direction. “Like the high

lands, she is. Wild and passionate, strong and brave. Like us. She’d be yer match, Rory Mor. Mark my words.”

His cousin’s sentiments rang true, and a dul ache built in his chest. Aidan spoke as though Rory had a choice. But if he did not do everything in his power to provide al they needed to battle the MacDonald and the adventurers, his clan’s blood would stain the ground and turn the waters red. And that he could not live with.

“How much ale have you imbibed? Was it no’ you who accused her of bein’ a spy?”

“Nay.” His cousin waved him off. “She’s no more a spy than ye or me.”

Moira tugged on his sleeve to gain his attention and Aidan waggled his brows at him. “I’ve missed ye, cousin. I’d forgotten how amusin’ life is at Dunvegan.”

“I’m glad we’re keepin’ you entertained,” Rory drawled as he turned to the woman at his side. “What is it, Moira?”

She looked surprised by his tone. “I . . . I only thought mayhap ye have a toast to make.”

“Aye, I’l do that now.” He banged his empty goblet on the table to gain the crowd’s attention and rose to his feet.

“’Tis time fer a toast, my friends.” Rory noted the smiles that greeted his words and the knot in his gut tightened. They expected an announcement he was not yet prepared to deliver. His gaze shifted to Aileanna, and her face paled as she stared up at him. If she wanted him as much as he did her, and his eventual decision would hurt her, it LORD OF THE ISLES

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would tear him apart. He closed his mind to the thought, unwil ing to entertain the idea.

“First, a toast to Cook and the lasses who provided us with such a fine meal.” Metal clanged and cheers resonated through the hal , but al Rory could see was Aileanna smil

ing at him, a beautiful wide smile that could bring a man to his knees.

“And to Mrs. Mac and the lasses fer al their hard work. The keep is a-shinin’ thanks to you ladies.” Rory was tempted to include Aileanna for al that she’d done, but didn’t think he could cope with Moira’s hysterics if he did. And there were those who would condemn Aileanna for her actions, and she’d suffered enough for one day. Cyril cleared his throat. The third time he did so, Rory turned to offer him a drink, but the man once again jerked his head toward his sister. Oh, for the love of God. “And to Lady MacLean, who did such a fine job overseein’ everythin’.” The crowd hesitated before breaking into their cheers, obviously expecting more. Rory sat down heavily, his duty done for the night.

Moira’s aunt leaned across her nephew in an attempt to catch his eye. “Laird MacLeod . . . Laird MacLeod.” She raised her voice when Rory continued to ignore her. He sighed and turned his attention to her.

“With al my niece has accomplished, ye must think she’d make a fine lady of Dunvegan.”

“I’m certain she would.” He offered the woman a tight smile, leaning back in his chair so Mrs. Mac could refil his mug. Bending over him, she tipped the pitcher and the ale splashed into his lap. Mrs. Mac clapped a hand to her mouth.

Rory cursed.

She tsked. “Och, now, look what I’ve gone and done.

’Tis sorry I am, my laird. My only excuse bein’ I’m a wee bit tired.” She fought back a smile. 160

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His cousin was having a mighty fine laugh at his expense, as were Iain, Fergus, and Aileanna. Rory grabbed the linen before Mrs. Mac could dab at his lap. “I can see to it on my own, thank you,” he said while he tried to sop up the ale.

“You doona’ have to be fashed, Laird MacLeod. I was only tryin’ to help.” She sniffed and walked away, head held high.

“I’m certain you were,” Rory muttered under his breath.

“Rory, ye shouldna’ al ow yer help to speak to ye that manner. When I . . .”

Moira let the last of her statement trail off, and Rory wasn’t about to fol ow up on it. He’d had enough of emo tional women for one day.

A ful moon shone down from the clear night sky. The luminous bal lit Ali’s way along the path Cal um had told her led to the loch. She glanced over her shoulder. In the distance, lights twinkled at Dunvegan, giving the castle a fairy-tale appeal, but at the moment Ali didn’t care; she was simply glad her absence had gone unnoticed. As she came closer to the loch the sweet cloverlike scent was re

placed by the salty tang of sea air. A cool breeze drifted off the water to lift the hair from her shoulders. A deep sense of peace washed over Ali, and she quickened her pace, eager to sit at the water’s edge, to be lul ed by the gentle ebb and flow of the tide.

Fol owing the moon’s path, Ali paid little attention until a hulking shadow rose up from beside the rocky outcrop that lined the loch, dark and menacing, like the monsters from her childhood nightmares. A panicked scream cur dled in her throat, but before she could let it loose, a famil

iar voice said, “Aileanna, what are you doin’, lass?”

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night sky and his face as beautiful. More like a fairy-tale prince than a monster. Rory looked up at her, his white linen shirt bil owing in the breeze, dark brown suede pants molded to his thick, muscular thighs. “Let me help you.” He placed his hands at her waist and lifted her easily over the rocks to his side. His gaze focused on her, he said, “You didna’ answer my ques

tion, Aileanna. What is it yer doin’ down here on yer own?”

She shrugged. “It was noisy and hot, and I wanted to go somewhere quiet.” Realizing she had invaded his privacy, she grimaced. “I’m sorry, that’s why you’re here, isn’t it?

And now I’ve disturbed you. I’l just—”

“Nay, ’tis al right. And I did promise to bring you here, but as I remember it was to be after yer feet healed.” He raised a brow.

“They’re as good as new.” She lifted her foot and smiled at him.

The corner of his mouth twitched, and his gaze soft

ened. “The stones are not as smooth here. Why doona’ you let me carry you? ’Tis just beyond the bend where I mean to take you.”

Moonlight shimmering over the loch and the man of her dreams were a lethal combination. Afraid if he took her in his arms she’d never be able to let him go, Ali shook her head. “I’m fine.”

“Give me yer hand at least,” he said quietly. Ali hesitated, then slid her hand into the warmth of his. She drew her gaze from their entwined fingers and met his.

“I’m glad you came, Aileanna. There’s somethin’ I wanted to talk to you aboot.”

“Oh no,” she groaned. “Can’t we cal a truce, just for one night? You won’t yel at me, and I won’t yel at you.”

Rory laughed and squeezed her hand. “Aye, a truce, but first you must let me apologize to you fer this afternoon. Sit here,” he said, leading her to a big, smooth-faced rock. 162

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“Thank you.” She smiled at him as he sat down beside her.

“To tel you the truth, I real y couldn’t understand how you expected me to apologize to that woman in the first place. I know you’re going to marry her, but after what she did—”

Ali shook her head. “It surprised me, it real y did. You always seemed fair, but this time . . .” At his silence she looked at him. “What?” she asked when she spied his incredulous ex

pression.

“Aileanna, ’twas no’ what I was apologizin’ fer. ’Twas fer later, when I—” He cleared his throat. “Interrupted yer bath.”

Ali felt the heat rise to her face at the memory. He looked down at his hands and shrugged his broad shoulders. “I ken there’s no excuse, but you took my breath away, and I’m thinkin’ my brains as wel . Yer a verra bonny woman, Aileanna, and I canna’ deny I’ve wanted you from the first time I saw you.”

“Only because I remind you of your wife.” She forced the words past the lump in her throat.

“Mayhap in the beginning, but no longer.”

“Why are you tel ing me this now? Nothing can come of it.” Her heart hammered in her chest. Could it? What if he told her he loved her, that he wanted her to be his wife and not Moira? Would she agree? No matter how hard she’d tried not to fal in love with this man, she had. He was everything she wanted. But could she stay here, in a time where she didn’t belong? Yes, yes, yes, the little voice in her head shouted. Lifting her eyes to his, seeing the ten derness there, she knew she had to try. To give them a chance. If she didn’t, she’d regret it for the rest of her life. He ran his knuckles along her cheek. “I ken that, but I need you to ken that I wish things were different. I have to do this fer the clan, Aileanna. Too many lives depend on the union.”

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hope? Rory was too loyal, too honorable to do anything other than what he had decided to do, and it was one of the reasons she loved him. She struggled to keep her emotions in check and looked away so he would not see how painful his words were for her to hear.

It was a cruel twist of fate that had brought her into his life. If only she had been born in this time, in this place, then his clan would accept her. And maybe she would have had family connections that would have made her as much an asset to him as Moira.

With a gentle touch of his fingers to her cheek, he forced her to look at him. “The last thing I want is to hurt you, Aileanna. I wish there was a way I didna’ have to.” He looked deep in her eyes. “Mayhap it would be best if we went back.”

She placed her hand over his fingers. “Not yet. Please.”

If this was to be their only time together, she needed to make it last. He kissed the top of her head and wrapped her in his powerful arms. “Al right. This night wil be ours, but only tonight. You understand I canna’ put it off any longer, Aileanna. On the morrow I must sign the papers.”

She wanted to rage at him, to cry out at the unfairness of it, but she couldn’t. In her heart, she knew it was what he had to do. She wouldn’t want him to risk the lives of his clan because of her, to have him live with that on his con science for the rest of his life. He would never forgive her, and she would never forgive herself. Ali snuggled into the warmth of his embrace and nodded, unable to speak, to control the hot tears that slid down her cheeks.

Rory groaned. “Nay, Aileanna, yel at me, anythin’ but yer tears, lass.”

“I’m not crying,” she said, her words muffled against his chest. “I’m tough, Rory MacLeod. I don’t cry.”

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fingertip. “Be strong, mo chridhe, fer me. I canna’ bear yer tears.”

Ali gave him a watery smile and wiped her eyes. “I’l try.” There was so much more she wanted to say to him, but the words wouldn’t come. Her heart ached, and she needed to put some distance between them if only to gain a semblance of her self-control. She lifted his arm from her chest and pressed a kiss to his palm.

“Where are you goin’?” he asked when she stood up.

“Over here,” Ali said as she walked to the water’s edge. She removed her slippers and dipped her toes into the foam that rol ed onto the pebble-lined shore. Lifting the hem of her gown, she trailed her foot through the froth in a circular pattern.

Rory embraced her from behind, pressing her back to his chest. “That’s how I’l remember you, Aileanna. Playin’ in the loch with moonbeams in yer hair. I’l no’ forget you, lass. Til the day I die, you’l hold a piece of my heart.”

Chapter 14

As they neared the edge of the clearing and Dunvegan loomed before them, Rory stopped. They could go no farther without being seen and he needed to touch her, look into her eyes one more time before he said good-bye. It had been the hardest thing he’d ever done, not to kiss her lips, to find a soft place to lay her down and love her like he wanted to. But he knew if he did, he’d never be able to let her go, and he would not dishonor Moira, or Aileanna, by lying with her He brought their entwined hands to his lips, and kissed her palm. She looked up at him, moisture gathered in her eyes, and he framed her face. “You promised.”

She attempted a smile, but her bottom lip quivered and she caught it between her perfect white teeth. “I didn’t . . . didn’t think it would be this hard.”

He groaned, and pul ed her against him, burying his face in her silky hair, breathing her in as though to keep some part of her with him. “Doona’ be angry, lass, but I pray Angus sends word soon. I canna’ bear to think you suffer because of what I must do.”

She tipped her head back and placed two fingers on his lips. “Don’t worry, Rory, I won’t be here much longer. And 166

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if this is to be our good-bye, there’s something I have to ask you to do for me. I need you to make me a promise.”

“What is it, Aileanna? I would give you whatever you want, you must ken that.”

“There’s only one thing I want, but you and I both know it can’t happen. We weren’t meant to be.” She gave him a sad smile. “But there is something you can do for me that wil make it easier for me to leave.”

“What would that be?”

Her gaze was intent as she held his. “You have to prom

ise me, if anyone comes to you with a complaint against Moira, you’l listen. And that you won’t give her control over Dunvegan when you’re away from home. She—”

“I ken Mrs. Mac and Fergus have their reservations, but you doona’ ken her, Aileanna. She means wel . She but tries to please me.”

Her skepticism was evident in the look she gave him.

“Please, just give me your promise. You’re a man of your word, and al I ask is you give it to me on this.”

He sighed, shaking his head. “Aye . . . aye, I wil do as you ask.”

The sound of men’s voices in the courtyard drew his at

tention and he said, “’Tis time, mo chridhe.”

She reached up on the tips of her toes to brush her soft lips over his. “Good-bye, Rory. Be happy and stay wel ,”

she said against his mouth.

He threaded his fingers through her long hair to cradle her head and gaze into her beautiful blue eyes. Rory had never wanted anything as badly as he wanted Aileanna. He yearned to deepen the gentle kiss, ravage her mouth and mark her as his, but he couldn’t, not without causing both of them more heartache.

“Good-bye, mo chridhe.”

With difficulty he stepped away from her, and together they crossed the courtyard. The night was stil , the men’s LORD OF THE ISLES

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voices fading off into the distance, the only sound the clicking of Aileanna’s heels as they struck the stone. He reached out to assist her on the steps, but she shook her head without looking at him. As he pushed the doors open the ache in his chest grew, and he hoped al were abed. His hopes were dashed when Mrs. Mac, Fergus, and Iain rushed into the entranceway, fol owed by Cyril, Moira, and Aidan, who gave him a knowing look.

“Och, now, Lady Aileanna, you’ve been cryin’. What has that big oaf done to you?” Mrs. Mac cried, scowling at him. She drew Aileanna into her protective embrace. Fergus and Iain took a threatening step toward him.

“No more than she deserves, I’d imagine,” Moira said, smiling like a cat that’d swal owed a wee warbler. “And ye wil na’ speak to yer laird in that manner, Mrs. Macpherson.”

Rory was about to intervene, not wanting the tension to escalate, but Mrs. Mac didn’t give him a chance. “Och, and I’l speak to him any way I please. I’ve been doin’ so since he was in nappies, and you’l no’ be tel in’ me different.”

Moira’s incensed gaze shot to Mrs. Mac and Aileanna, and then back to Rory, as though she waited for him to ex plain, or at least intercede on her behalf, but it was Aileanna who took it upon herself to defuse the situation. Once she managed to extricate herself from Mrs. Mac, she said, “I was out for a walk and tripped. Lord MacLeod came to my rescue, nothing more. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to go to bed.”

“Good sleep, Aileanna,” Rory said to her retreating back. He clenched his hands at his sides lest he reach out to her. Her eyes met his over her shoulder. “To you, too, Lord MacLeod. To you, too.” Her voice was low and husky. Mrs. Mac sniffed. “My apologies, Laird MacLeod, and my thanks fer yer assistin’ my lady.” She turned on her heel and hurried after Aileanna.

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Fergus’s and Iain’s thunderous expressions relaxed, but the MacLeans were none too pleasant to look upon.

“Ye were alone with . . . that woman?” Moira shrieked.

“Now, poppet, he came to her rescue is al ,” her brother soothed. Giving Rory a pointed look over her head, he added, “I’m certain my sister wil no’ be so sensitive once the papers have been signed.”

“’Twil be done on the morrow. Now if you wil excuse me, I wish to retire fer the evenin’.” Ignoring Fergus, Iain, and his cousin’s looks of astonishment, he walked away without another word.

Ali’s muscles strained and burned as she and Connor, under Mrs. Mac’s unrelenting supervision, moved another piece of heavy furniture. They deposited the trunk beneath the floral tapestry the older woman had appropriated from another room. Ali straightened and kneaded her lower back. “Are we done now?”

“Och, you doona’ need to be so prickly, my lady. Doona’ you think yer chambers look bonny?”

“Fit for a princess.” They were. Mrs. Mac had deter

mined Ali’s new accommodations would be better than the ones she’d been forced to leave, and Ali didn’t have the heart to tel her it wasn’t necessary. She wouldn’t be there much longer. She couldn’t be, not after last night.

“Or lady of the keep.” Mrs. Mac smiled smugly. Ali’s eyes widened. “Are you tel ing me we’ve been breaking our backs readying the room for Lady MacLean?”

Mrs. Mac rol ed her eyes. “Nay.”

Ali sighed. “Mrs. Mac, he’s marrying her whether you like it or not. They’re signing the papers today.”

“Curious thing, that. The papers have gone missin’.”

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shook her head. No matter what Mrs. Mac had done, the union would go ahead. Rory would not let anything stand in the way of him protecting his clan.

“Connor, I’l send Mari up so you doona’ need to go lookin’ fer her. She was givin’ me a hand with the other rooms,”

Mrs. Mac said as she closed the door behind her. Connor bent over the trunk, making a show of rearrang ing it, his ears pink. “I wasna’ lookin’ fer her. I doona’ ken why Mrs. Mac said such a thin’,” he muttered in a disgrun tled voice.

Ali bit back a smile. “I’m sure Mrs. Mac knows that, but, Connor, I’m glad you’re watching out for Mari. You’ve been a good friend to her.” Knowing Mari was wel looked after made it easier for Ali to leave, and leaving must now be her only focus. She couldn’t remain at Dunvegan any longer. If she did, her heart would never recover. At the rate you’re going, you might not have much of a choice, the voice in her head reminded her. Ali sat down heavily on the edge of the four-poster bed. It was true. She hadn’t gotten any information about the location of the fairy flag from Iain. Not that she’d pushed very hard. Mrs. Mac had been only too happy to inform her that Rory and Iain had almost come to blows over her. Ali was resigned to find another way. She wouldn’t cause a rift between the brothers. What she needed was someone who wouldn’t suspect what she was up to. A resounding thud caused the mattress to bounce.

“Connor, what on earth—” Connor—of course. “Here, let me help you.” She hopped off the bed and righted the smal table he’d knocked over.

Patting a chair, she said, “Come and have a rest.” Ali pul ed up a stool and sat across from him. “You’re a big help, Connor. Lord MacLeod must be glad to have you with him.”

The boy shrugged. “I suppose.”

“I’m sure he is. How long have you been at Dunvegan?”

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He furrowed his brow. “Since I was a wee lad, a verra long time.”

“You have a lot of responsibility for someone so young. Lord MacLeod places a great deal of trust in you.”

“I’m no’ so young, my lady. I’m sixteen.”

She grinned. “You’re right, you’re very old.” Pausing, Ali concentrated on pul ing her features into a pensive ex pression.

“My lady, are ye no’ feelin’ wel ?”

Obviously her acting skil s needed work. “I’m just a little concerned is al .”

“Aboot what? Mayhap I can be of some help.” He leaned toward her. Elbows propped on his knees, he regarded her with heartwarming sincerity.

Ali choked back a sob. There was so much she would miss when she left. “Maybe you can, but you must prom ise not to tel anyone of my suspicions.”

He nodded.

“You know about the fairy flag, don’t you?” She held her breath.

His eyes widened. “Aye, ye ken aboot the flag?”

“Of course, Ro—Lord MacLeod told me al about it. And that’s what concerns me, Connor. I think Lady MacLean knows about the flag as wel and means to use it as a way to force Lord MacLeod into the union.”

“I doona’ think she needs much to force his hand. As I hear it the papers wil be signed this day.”

Damn.

“But the papers are missing, and she might get desper

ate. I’m sure that’s what she was doing when she had every

one cleaning the keep from top to bottom yesterday. She was searching for the flag, Connor. I’m sure of it.”

“She’l no’ find it. She wouldna’ enter the laird’s cham

bers without his permission. Besides, ’tis wel concealed. The wal —” He clamped his mouth shut. LORD OF THE ISLES

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Bingo.

Ali rose from the chair, anxious to begin her search. She schooled her features. “That’s a relief. I should’ve known Lord MacLeod would do everything he could to protect the flag. I’ve kept you long enough, Connor. You’ve been a great help. Thank you.”

“’Twas no’ a problem, my lady, I—”

The door squeaked open and they both turned to see Mari, one foot over the threshold, frantical y motioning for someone to fol ow her. “Ye must let my lady see to ye,”

she urged.

Ali frowned. “What’s going on, Mari?” She moved toward the door and gasped when Mari gently guided one of the serving girls into the room, bloody linens pressed to her face. It was one of the girls Ali had worked with in the kitchens. One of the three that had attacked Mari.

“Good Lord, what happened? Bring her here,” Ali said, holding out a chair. Connor took hold of the girl’s arm and helped her to sit.

“Tilt your head—that’s it.” Ali careful y removed the blood-soaked linens and sucked in a ragged breath. A deep, sixinch gash sliced from just above her brow to her cheekbone, barely missing her eye. Mari twisted her blood-spattered apron in her hands. “I had her press the linens to the wound like you did fer me, my lady.”

Ali reached over to squeeze Mari’s arm. “You did ex

actly right,” she reassured her. “Now I’l need a bucket of water, and make sure you boil it. And the herbs I used to keep Lord MacLeod asleep, I’l need those, too. Connor, you remember the ones I mean?” At his affirmative nod, she continued. “A needle and thread and some of that . . . Uisge na beatha, I think Fergus cal ed it. Anyway, ask Mrs. Mac. She’l know what I’m talking about.”

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“Nay!” The girl gave a strangled cry. “No one can ken. She’l kil me.”

“Shh, now.” Ali patted her shoulder. “No one is going to kil you. Mari, what’s going on?”

“’Tis Lady MacLean who done it. She told Ina she’d kil her if she said anythin’. Told her to see to it on her own, but I made her come to ye. I said as how ye would protect her.”

Ali’s hands bal ed into fists, and she had to take a calm

ing breath before she said or did something she’d regret. Crouching beside the girl, she took her hands in hers. “Ina, we’re going to take care of your cut, and for now no one wil know, but Lady MacLean can’t be al owed to get away with this. Whatever I do, I promise you won’t suffer be

cause of it.”

“Ye didna’ see her eyes, my lady. She looked crazed.”

“I can imagine.” Ali stood up and removed the linen, re

lieved to see the bleeding had slowed. “Do you know what set her off ?”

“Aye, the papers were missin’ from Lord MacLeod’s study and she was in a rage, castin’ blame on us fer cleanin’

near his desk.”

Dear God, do you know what you’ve gotten yourself into, Rory? Leaving him was hard enough, but knowing what his life would be like made it that much more diffi

cult. But maybe he wouldn’t care. He’d have the men to help fight his battles. He’d have done his duty. Once Ali finished stitching Ina’s cut, with Connor and Mari’s help she settled the girl into her bed despite her groggy protests.

“Mari and Connor wil stay with you while you rest. I won’t be long.”

“My lady, please take care. I doona’ want her to harm ye,” Ina pleaded.

“You don’t have to worry about me, Ina, but I can’t say the same for Lady MacLean.”

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Mari giggled behind her hand, and Connor gave a snort of laughter. “Give it to her good, my lady.”

“I plan on it, Connor. Now do either of you know where I might find her ladyship?”

“Mrs. Mac was grumblin’ as to how she had to show her the gardens. They’d be to the back of the keep, my lady,”

Connor informed her.

Ali descended the stairs, avoiding the servants who scurried about as best she could, afraid someone would question her as to what she was about. She bowed her head and hurried past Rory’s study. As she did, she heard voices raised in anger, and recognized two of them as Rory’s and Cyril’s. Good, she thought, grateful the men were occu

pied. It was time Moira MacLean got what was coming to her. Mrs. Mac had been right from the beginning. Men didn’t see clearly when it came to the woman. Hurrying out the doors of the keep, she spotted Fergus. Trying not to attract his attention, Ali lowered her head and strode to the opposite side of the castle.

“Aileanna.” Fergus waved to her from across the court

yard. “Where are you off to in such a hurry?”

“The gardens.” She smiled and kept on walking.

“Hold up there, lass,” he said, closing the distance be

tween them. “Aileanna, mayhap it would be best if you were to see the gardens at another time.” He took hold of her elbow and turned her back toward the entrance of the castle.

She shook his hand off. “Fergus, don’t be sil y. It’s a beautiful day to visit the gardens. I hoped to find a smal patch where I could add some of the plants I’d read about in the book Iain lent me. Actual y he read it to me, too. Re member, the one the physician from Edinburgh wrote?

Where I found the herbs to drug Rory—wel , not drug him, but you know what I mean.” She waved her hand. 174

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He narrowed his gaze and crossed his arms. “What are you up to?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yer ramblin’, lass. You do it when you have somethin’

to hide. Now tel me.”

“No, and you can’t stop me. Omph, ” she grunted when he flipped her over his shoulder and marched determinedly toward the keep.

With a cry of outrage, Ali pounded on his back.

“Stop yer caterwaulin’. You were goin’ to make trouble with Moira MacLean, and doona’ deny it. I can see it on yer face. And if you do, Rory wil have yer head.”

She kicked her feet. “You don’t understand.” He whacked her soundly on her bottom. “Ouch, Fergus, that hurt,” she cried.

“Then stop yer kickin’, lass. Those parts I’m a mite fond of,” he said as he pushed open the doors to the keep.

“Bloody hel , Fergus. What’s goin’ on here? Put Aileanna down.”

“Nay, I think it would be best if I lock her in her room and let her cool down fer a wee bit.”

“Like hel you wil . Put me down.” She slapped him on the back and gave him another kick for good measure.

“Eh, Fergus, watch yer bol ocks, mon.” Someone laughed, and Ali was certain it was Rory’s cousin. Whack.

“ Fergus!” she yelped, covering her behind.

“That’s enough.” Big hands locked on her waist and hauled her from Fergus’s shoulder to set her upright. “Now one of you wil tel me what is the meanin’ of this?”

Ali glared at Fergus, who glared right back at her. She pushed the hair from her face with an angry swipe of her hand Ali glared at Fergus, who glared right back at her. She pushed the hair from her face with an angry swipe of her hand and met Rory’s unamused gaze.

“I’m waitin’.” He crossed his arms over his broad chest,

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showing no sign of what had passed between them the night before.

“Ali, what happened? You have blood on yer gown?”

Iain asked, concern in his voice as he pushed past his brother.

Rory’s gaze racked over her as though he searched for a wound.

“It’s not mine.” She stepped around Iain. “You made me a promise, Rory, and I’m holding you to it. I have a com plaint against Moira that must be addressed.”

“What is it that yer sayin’ aboot my sister?” Cyril cried in a high-pitched voice.

“She threw a goblet at Ina, one of the serving girls. She needed stitches and was lucky she didn’t lose her eye. Lady MacLean threatened to kil her if she went to anyone about it.”

Cyril looked from her to Rory. “’Tis no’ but an accident. Yer jealous and tryin’ to make trouble fer my sister is al .”

Her gaze locked onto Rory’s. The muscle in his clenched jaw pulsated. “You promised.”

“Aye,” he grunted, drawing his attention away from her at the sound of Moira’s and Mrs. Mac’s voices headed in their direction. He jerked his chin, and Fergus and Iain took hold of her arms.

“No!” she cried, struggling to free herself. “If you don’t do something about this, I’l never forgive you.”

The object of her fury came to stand beside her brother, looking the picture of innocence in her pretty pink gown. Mrs. Mac, who trailed behind, cast a startled glance at Ali.

“What’s goin’ on, Rory?” Moira asked in a soft, gentle voice.

“Cut the crap, lady. Everyone knows what you’ve done. And if you so much as touch a hair on one of those girls’

heads again, you’l answer to me,” Ali yel ed over her shoulder as Fergus and Iain dragged her toward the stairs. 176

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Ali craned her neck in an attempt to see over Iain’s shoulder. She was determined to catch Rory’s eye before she was dragged away, but he turned his back on her, order

ing Moira and her brother to his study. Ali had the satisfac

tion of seeing Moira’s mouth drop. Aidan caught Ali’s eye, and gave her a reassuring wink.

“Ali, he’l take care of it. I’l add my promise to his. She’l no’ harm another,” Iain said, angrier than she’d ever seen him. “I canna’ believe he’s goin’ through with the be

trothal.”

“I thought you wanted the match.”

“Nay, Aileanna, I want to see my brother happy. ’Tis al I’ve ever wanted.”

Ali listened to every footfal , every creak in the hal out

side Rory’s room. She timed her search of his chambers to when they’d be dining in the hal . Mrs. Mac had unhappily informed her that a new agreement was being drawn up and would be signed after the evening meal. With luck, Ali figured she had several hours to look for the flag. But there had been several delays before she had the chance to sneak unseen from her room.

Mari and Connor had come to check on her and report on Ina’s progress; Fergus, to apologize for smacking her behind, although he informed her it was wel deserved; and Iain, to share what had taken place between his brother and Moira. He said Rory told Moira in no uncertain terms how he felt about his servants being abused, and accident or not, he would not constitute it happening again. And al

though she’d be lady of Dunvegan—Iain had shuddered as he said the words—Mrs. Mac would see to the staff and oversee the keep much as she did before. Ali had tearful y thanked him, saying a silent good-bye as she had to al of them. No one commented on her tears,

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and Ali figured they assumed she grieved because Rory was going through with the betrothal. They were right, but her tears were for them, too. They’d become the family she never had.

Ali sniffed and wiped the moisture from her cheek. She kept her gaze averted from the bed, but the memories refused to be kept at bay. Rory’s hand on her naked body, his mouth on hers—him lying there wounded and in pain, but stil man

aging to tease. Every little detail of their time together flashed before her. How could she leave . . . how could she not? It was only when Ali relegated al she stood to lose to the recesses of her mind that she had the strength to move ahead with her search.

The wall. He said the wall.

She placed both palms alongside the doorframe and slowly worked her way around the room. It seemed like hours had passed. Her arms ached from stretching and pressing every inch of the wal s, stone and paneling alike. Painstakingly she checked for signs of wear. Knowing she had little time left, and half the room stil to explore, she had al but given up. Then the panel creaked beneath her palm. She tapped lightly—it was hol ow. She was tempted to use the knife she wore strapped to her thigh—the one Cal um had given her—but was afraid to damage the wood. A tremor of nervous excitement ran through her as she slid her nails along the edge. The wal moved. Her heartbeat echoed in her ears as inch by inch she worked it open. Behind the panel she discovered a closetlike space. On the dusty floor sat a black trunk. Ali knelt beside it, closing her eyes when it squeaked open, her nerves scraped raw, every sound magnified a hundred times. Slowly she opened her eyes. On top lay the cream col ored square of silk. Her search was over, and she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She clutched the flag to her chest. Aware she didn’t have much time, she began to 178

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push the panel back into place, but it was stuck. Ali leaned her shoulder into it. With a long, drawn-out creak, it shuddered closed.

A deep voice rumbled over her. “What are you doin’, Aileanna?”

Chapter 15

“Aileanna, I asked you a question. What are you doin’?”

Rory hesitated, slowly closing the door behind him, not sure he could withstand the temptation of being alone with her. He had come to his chambers for a moment’s peace before he put his name to the agreement. Aileanna’s accusations against Moira had not helped matters, nor did her entreaty that he hold true to his promise. His head stil ached from Moira’s hysterics in his study, and her constant attentions in the hal . Aileanna turned toward him, her face flushed, hair in dis

array, and a look of panic in her bonny blue eyes. Wariness crept over him. He noted her hands behind her back and un

wil ingly his gaze went to the hidden chambers. A dul , knife-like pain twisted in his gut. The wooden panel had been tampered with, the seal at the top broken. Al evidence pointed to Aileanna, and anger raged within him. She was a spy.

She betrayed him.

Moira and Cyril had been right al along. Ruthlessly, he shoved aside a niggling of doubt. “What do you have behind yer back?” He kept al emotion from his voice.

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“I didn’t mean to disturb you. I . . . I lost my ring.” She careful y showed him her right hand, leaving the left behind her back. “On the night you were wounded. I . . . I thought it might be here.”

“Show me both of yer hands, Aileanna.” He closed the distance between them in three long strides, but did not come close enough to touch her, afraid of what he’d do if he did.

“I—” She bowed her head and choked back a sob.

“Please believe me, it’s not what you think, Rory,” she pleaded, bringing her hand from behind her back to reveal the flag, clutched in her fist.

Her betrayal felt like a blow, fast and hard to his gut, and Rory sucked in a pained breath. “You wil give it to me now,”

he grated between clenched teeth, holding out his hand. With a look of anguish on her bonny face, she said, “I can’t. I’m sorry, but I can’t.” She held the flag tight to her chest, covering the silk with both of her hands.

“Never before have I hurt a woman, Aileanna, but if you doona’ give me the flag, I make no promises I won’t.”

Her eyes darted to the door and he grabbed her. His fin

gers bit into the delicate bones of her wrists. She cried out, and her knees buckled.

“Drop it,” he said harshly.

Her hands opened and the flag slipped to nestle in the deep val ey of her breasts. He jerked her hands behind her back and encircled her wrists with one hand while he retrieved the flag with the other.

“They chose you wel , mo chridhe,” he rasped against her ear, feeling the heat of her skin beneath the silk. His breathing grew ragged and his fingers lingered, stroking the tops of her ful and heaving breasts. “How far would you have gone, Aileanna?” He shoved his hand into the bodice of her gown and rol ed her nipple roughly be tween his thumb and finger.

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“Rory, no, it’s not what you think.” She gasped when he kneaded and squeezed her breast.

“Yer a spy. Doona’ try to deny it, and before this night is out you wil tel me al ,” he ground out. She leaned her head against his shoulder in an attempt to look back at him, her chest heaving. “Rory, you have to believe me, I’m not a spy. I can’t tel you anything.”

He dragged his hand from her breast. Letting go of her wrists, he threw her onto the bed. She fel face first, and the mattress bounced and squeaked from the force of her land

ing. He was on top of her before she could catch her breath. Flipping her onto her back, he straddled her, anchoring her arms over her head.

“Please, don’t do this. I know what it looks like, but it’s not . . . it’s not what you think.” She struggled, her hips arched beneath him, and despite his anger, his disgust with himself and with her, his cock hardened. With her hair spread across the dark brown coverlet, the rapid rise and fal of her voluptuous breasts, she was pure temptation.

“Aye, they knew what they were doin’ when they sent you, lass. They would ken I wouldna’ be able to resist you.”

He spat the words at her.

“Why won’t you listen to me? I’m not a spy. I know you’re angry, but please, just think. Why would I save you and your men’s lives, if I was?” A lone tear slid across her cheek and into her hair. He tried not to consider her words in the same way he tried to ignore his lingering doubts, to forget about her loy alty to those who were close to him, her fierce protective

ness. Like her actions at the loch, she had al but convinced him she cared for him as much as he cared for her, but now he knew she but played him for a fool.

“Then why, Aileanna, why did you steal the flag?”

“I wasn’t stealing it. I only wanted to—” She shook her head, eyes closed. “I can’t, Rory. I made a promise.”

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“Even to save yerself ?”

Her eyes blinked open. “You wouldn’t kil me. I thought you loved me,” she whispered.

“Love, Aileanna? Nay, yer mistaken. I spoke of lust and desire. And only that because you reminded me of Bri anna. But you canna’ hold a candle to her.” His laughter was cruel, his words intended to wound her as deeply as she wounded him.

Her head jerked as though he’d slapped her. Color leached from her face. “What . . . what are you going to do with me?”

He saw the fear in her eyes along with the pain his words caused, but he hardened his heart against it and low ered his face to hers. “Mayhap I should take what you so readily offered that first night I was too weak to accept.”

Before she could turn her head he captured her mouth with his, forcing his tongue past her lips, ravaging her, devour ing her. She twisted beneath him and he ground his cock into her. She bit his tongue. He wrenched his lips from hers. The metal ic taste of blood fil ed his mouth.

“If you take me now, Rory MacLeod, it wil be rape,”

she panted, her face flushed, her eyes the same shade of violet as her gown. Her words penetrated his lust-addled brain, past the anger and the pain, and stopped him cold. He flung himself away from her and strode to the door. He ripped it open, nearly tearing it from the hinges. “Byron and Cedric!” He bel owed for his men-at-arms. Rory leaned against the doorframe for support, watching as Aidan, Fergus, and Iain pounded up the staircase after the men.

“What’s the matter, Rory?” his brother asked, moving Byron and Cedric aside. Rory stepped back, al owing his brother a clear view of Aileanna, her knees tucked to her chin as she sat huddled at the head of the bed. Iain grabbed his arm. “Sweet Jesu’, what have you done to her? If you’ve harmed her, I swear to God—”

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Rory slammed him against the wal , fisting his hand in Iain’s tunic. “’Tis no’ I. She’s a spy . . . a thief. I caught her attempting to steal the fairy flag.”

His brother’s eyes shot to Aileanna and he shook Rory off to make his way to her side. “Why, Aileanna?”

Slowly she lifted her head from her knees. Holding his brother’s gaze, she shook her head. Rory almost felt sorry for Iain, for the hurt he saw in his eyes. “What wil you do with her?” his brother asked, dragging his gaze from hers.

“Put her under guard in the tower until she talks.”

Iain helped her from the bed, and Rory noted the change in her. She no longer looked haunted, beaten down. She held her head high and walked by him with a haughty grace that caused him to add, “She’l have no food or drink until she does.”

She held his gaze, her mouth swol en from his kiss. He jerked his head and the guards took hold of her. Mrs. Mac, Connor, Fergus, and Iain watched her being led away. They al wore the same expression of betrayal. Her attempt to steal the clan’s treasure was nothing compared to what she’d done to their hearts.

“Byron, Cedric, hold. I have one question mayhap you will answer, Aileanna Graham, if that is who you are.”

She raised her eyes to his.

“Who betrayed the clan? How did you ken where the fairy flag was?”

“No one betrayed you,” she said wearily. “I’ve been looking for the flag since the night I arrived. Your room was the last one I had to check, and I’d been searching it for days. The boards sounded hol ow when I tapped on them. That’s the only way I knew where it was.”

Rory heard a feminine gasp at his back. “I told ye, Rory, I told ye. I knew she was a spy.” Moira clapped her hands gleeful y. When she reached his side, she placed a 184

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proprietary hand on his arm. “Ye wil na’ be so high and mighty when ye feel the lash open the skin on yer back,”

she taunted Aileanna.

“Moira, that wil be enough,” Rory ordered. His stom

ach roiled at the image of Aileanna’s porcelain white skin flayed to a bloody pulp. He watched as the men led her toward the tower, back straight, head held high.

“Rory . . . Rory.” Moira plucked at his sleeve. “Cyril tel s me ye have no’ signed the papers as yet. Shal we retire to the study and do so now?”

“Nay, I have much to deal with, Moira. Mayhap ’twould be best if you and yer kin left until I have had sufficient time to deal with the matter at hand. Aidan wil see you to Duart. I’l send a messenger when I’m of a mind to sign the papers.” Rory knew he should just sign the agreement and get it over with instead of leaving it to hang over his head, but at the moment he had no desire to deal with it, or the MacLeans. Moira’s comments to Aileanna chil ed him to the marrow. No matter her guilt, it was not some

thing one would expect a woman to say to another. Rory had known Moira for a long time, but he was beginning to question if he truly knew her at al .

Ali smoothed her finger over the dagger Cal um had in

sisted she wear strapped to her thigh on the morning Moira MacLean had turned the clan against her. She wedged the blade between the iron bar of the window and the spot right below it where the stone had weakened. It was boring, tedious work. She had to be quiet and make sure she swept the stone dust under the narrow cot. Locked away for two days now, Rory’s only compromise had been to al ow her water. He had come yesterday morning to try to make her talk, but she hadn’t uttered a single word. She’d lain on the cot LORD OF THE ISLES

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with her back to him. He didn’t touch her, questioning her in a tightly control ed voice. The only emotion he re vealed was when, after what seemed like hours, he’d stormed from the tower, cursing the MacDonalds. Ali blinked, trying to keep the tears at bay. She couldn’t cry anymore. He believed she was a spy—that she betrayed him—and that wouldn’t change. She saw it in the way he looked at her. Heard it in the words he’d spat at her, words she wished she could forget. Felt it in the way he had touched her. She’d thought she’d been hurt before, but it was nothing compared to this.

Ali listened to the dul scrape of the blade as she chis

eled her way to freedom. Two of the bars were loose; only three remained. She didn’t know where she would go, but she knew she couldn’t remain at Dunvegan. The looks of betrayal from Mrs. Mac, Fergus, Iain, and Connor would be too much to bear.

And Rory—wel , she couldn’t think of him without her heart breaking into little pieces. Tel ing him the truth wasn’t an option. She wouldn’t betray the others any more than she already had. But no way in hel was she going to let anyone torture her. The thought of leaving Rory was no longer as difficult as it had once been. He didn’t love her. He felt nothing for her now but disgust. At the sound of heavy footfal s on the wooden staircase that led to the tower, Ali careful y dislodged the dagger. Grabbing a piece of linen, she swept the powder under the bed, then tucked both the cloth and the blade beneath the thin mattress. She heard the guards mutter something before they turned the key in the lock and the door creaked open. Iain entered, his face drawn. He carried a tray with a piece of bread and a mug of what she assumed was water.

“I thought your brother planned to starve me.”

Iain shook his head. “Why did you do it, Ali?” he asked, joining her on the bed. He set the tray down beside him 186

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and offered her the chunk of bread. She politely refused, accepting the water instead. “Yer no’ plannin’ on starvin’

yerself, are you?”

Ali smiled. “Of course not.” But she didn’t plan on making it easy on Rory either. Let him suffer thinking she starved herself. But he’d only suffer if he cared, the little voice in her head said, and he’s already told you he doesn’t.

“You stil havena’ told me—why, Ali?”

She stared at the water in her cup. “You did boil this, didn’t you?” she asked, taking a deep swal ow. Iain sighed.

“Aye. ’Tis because my brother’s marryin’

Moira, isna’ it? ’Tis what both Fergus and Mrs. Mac believe.”

Ali nodded. It was the truth. Emotion knotted her throat.

“Do you think they can ever forgive me?”

Iain squeezed her hand. “Aye, we were hurt is al . We thought you’d come to care a little fer us and your life at Dunvegan.”

Ali placed the cup on the tray and smoothed her hands over her gown. Her gaze shot to Iain, praying he didn’t notice the white dust that coated the dusky pink silk. He didn’t. She wouldn’t have been so lucky had it been Rory.

“I did. I do. It wasn’t an easy decision, Iain, and I’m sorry I disappointed al of you. I real y am.”

“I canna’ fault you, and I thank you fer no’ tel in’ my brother the truth. My only regret is it cost you dearly. But doona’

worry. Fergus and I are thinkin’ on a way to convince Rory yer no’ a spy.” He gave her a weak smile. “The wee tale you told Connor might be of some use if we can con

vince my brother you meant to protect the flag from Moira.”

Ali groaned. “What did Rory do to him?”

“Nothin’. The lad was feelin’ guilty and went to Fergus. He’s blamin’ himself fer you bein’ held in the tower.”

“Iain, you have to tel him not to feel bad. I just would have found someone else to tel me.”

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Iain grimaced, then patted her knee. “I’d best go. Rory is no’ fit to live with these days. If I stay longer than my al lotted time, he’l have my head.”

Ali raised a brow. “Sounds like he and Moira wil make a charming pair.”

Iain gave her an odd smile. “The MacLeans are no longer here. The signing of the papers has been put aside for now.”

Ali tamped down a sense of hope. Nothing could come of it. Not now. “Thank you for coming.” She chewed on her lower lip, then asked, “Iain, would you be able to get me some linens? It gets cold at night.”

He ran his hand through his tawny brown hair. “Sweet Jesu’, what have I done to you, Ali? I should just tel him the truth. You should no’ be locked away up here.”

She stood beside him and patted his arm. “It wil al work out, Iain, you’l see.”

He frowned. “Yer no’ plannin’ anythin’, are you, Ali?”

“Of course not.” She lowered her eyes, unable to look at him when she lied, wishing she didn’t have to. “I’l leave that to you and Fergus.” They didn’t have a chance where Rory was concerned, and she wouldn’t al ow herself to be locked away for however long it suited him. The only one she could depend on was herself: a lesson she’d learned re peatedly growing up, and one she should’ve remembered.

“Good. We’l no’ let you down,” he said, leaving with a promise to send Mari to her with the linens. In the early morning hours on the fourth day of her im

prisonment, Ali wiggled the last of the bars free. Her time before the keep came to life was limited, and she had to hurry, no matter how tired she was. She lifted the rope of linens from the chair and knelt on the cold, hard floor, winding the rope through the bedframe. As quietly as she 188

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could, she dragged the bed beneath the window, stopping every few minutes to listen to the rhythmic snoring of the guards stationed outside the door. With a silent prayer, she dropped the makeshift rope over the edge of the casement. Standing on the mattress, she lifted first one leg and then the other over the ledge. She closed her eyes. The second rope dug into her stomach as she lay in the window, the wind whipping the gown around her legs. She gritted her teeth and began her careful descent down the sheer face of the gray stone wal . Her foot slipped, and she swal owed a panicked cry. Despite the chil in the air, sweat beaded on her forehead. Tightening her grip, she lowered herself several more feet until she came to the knot that warned the rope was about to end. Careful y, one hand over the other, she twisted until she faced outward. The wind lifted her damp hair, cooling her flushed face. She forced herself not to look down at the yawning, twelve-foot gap, knowing she had to get over it if she was to land on the slanted roof of the empty guards’ room.

She kicked off the wal to swing in midair, slamming back into the unforgiving stone. Ali groaned, but there was no time to waste moaning over the dul throb in her back. She’d spent the last few days watching the guards’ routine and knew there wasn’t a moment to spare before the next one came on shift.

A sense of desperation played havoc with her courage. She pushed it aside and used the last of her strength to give one final push. Legs flailing, she dropped with a dul thud to the roof below. Her knees scraped on the rough tiles, shredding her gown. She tried to grab hold of the peaked roofline, but missed, and slid down the roof. Crying out in frustration, she kicked her feet until the toe of her shoe dug into a crevice between the tiles. Ali sucked in a breath and dove for the chimney, wrapping her arms around it. She

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stifled a startled cry when a large blackbird dive-bombed her and she waved a hand to shoo it away. Ali pul ed herself up until she sat tucked securely be

tween the roof and chimney. Battered fingers trembling, she unraveled the linen rope from her waist. She threw it around one side of the chimney and grabbed it as it came around the other, tying a knot she prayed would hold. Once more she descended. With only a few more feet to freedom, she began to relax. A door slammed and Ali froze, clinging to the rope, her feet dangled high above the ground. She held her breath, slowly releasing it when no one and no other sound fol owed. With the rope wound between her legs, she lowered herself farther. Her head jerked up when she heard a slow tearing sound. Panicked, she looked down at the twelve-foot drop. The rope shredded. She fel to the ground with no hope of breaking her fal . Thud. Ali moaned, scrambling awkwardly to her feet. She sti

fled a cry of pain when she put weight on her right foot. She tried to rotate her ankle; it wasn’t broken, but she wouldn’t get far on her own. She wrinkled her nose. Bessie. She scanned the deserted courtyard, then hobbled toward the stables. Mauve and pink streaked the azure sky and Ali quickened her pace, anxious to put some distance between her and Dunvegan before the sun came up.

“How did she come by a dagger?” Rory bel owed, yank

ing on the linen rope that hung outside the window. Cal um shuffled from one foot to the other, his face flushed. “’Twas me, Laird MacLeod. I gave it to her on the day Lady MacLean accused her of bein’ a spy.”

“Bloody hel ,” Rory cursed, tossing the rope to the floor. He ran his hand through his hair. She would be the death of him. But despite his anger, he couldn’t help but 190

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admire her bravery, her ingenuity. The woman was amaz

ing. Too bad she was a spy.

He lifted his gaze from the cot and met the look of con

demnation in the eyes of Mrs. Mac, Fergus, and Iain. His temper flared. “Doona’ give me that look. ’Twas no’ be cause of me she did this.”

“Nay? It was no’ her who locked herself in the tower and half starved herself to death.”

“In case you’ve forgotten, brother, the woman’s a spy. And I didna’ starve her. She was just too stubborn to eat.”

Byron and Cedric entered the room, shamefaced.

“There’s no sign of her, my laird, but the lads in the stable say old Bessie is missin’.”

He met his brother’s gaze and they both let out a shout of laughter. Relief surged through Rory. He would get her back, but more importantly, she wasn’t hurt. It had been his worst fear when he’d been cal ed to the tower. The guards had said nothing, simply pointed to the barless window. Rory ful y expected to see her broken body lying on the ground below, and nothing had prepared him for the terror he felt. No matter that she betrayed him; he stil had not managed to purge her from his heart. “’Twil no’ be difficult pickin’ up her trail if she’s even made it off Dunvegan land.”

“I’l bring her home,” Fergus and Iain offered in unison.

“Nay, I’l go.”

He strode from the room, leveling his brother with a hard stare when Iain cal ed out to him, “You wil na’ hurt her, Rory.”

Rory picked up Aileanna’s trail easily enough once he realized she had not headed to MacDonald land after al . He assumed whoever she was in contact with must have arranged a meeting place closer to Dunvegan. Coming upon horse and rider in the glen, he eased back on the reins. Hidden within a cluster of pines, he patted the black’s pow LORD OF THE ISLES

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erful neck. “We’l stay and watch for a bit, Lucifer. See who the lass meets up with.”

He bit back a smile when she delicately tapped the mare’s flanks. Bessie didn’t budge. Holding on to Bessie’s mane, Aileanna bounced up and down several times. The horse snorted, and she threw up her arms in frustration. Rory watched in amusement as she awkwardly slid from the mare. But his amusement faded when he saw her hobble forward to cajole her horse. She’d been hurt. He dug his heels in Lucifer’s sides and left the shelter of the pines. Each time Aileanna urged the horse on with a tentative pat to her flank, Bessie would take a step back. The lass lost more ground than she gained. She gave a muffled groan and sunk to the heather-covered ground, drawing her knees to her chest. Bessie nudged her, nickering.

“Don’t try to be nice now—it won’t work,” he heard her grumble.

“You shouldna’ be fashed with her. She made it much farther than I expected she would,” Rory commented dryly.

“You!” she gasped, turning to look up at him. “How did you find me?”

“’Twas no’ hard.” He dismounted and came to stand over her. “I’ve come to take you back to Dunvegan.”

A hopeful light appeared in her eyes. “You believe me now?”

“That yer no’ a spy? Nay, I doona’ believe that.” He wished he could.

“Then I’m not going anywhere with you.” She lowered her forehead to her knees.

“And where would you be plannin’ on goin’, lass?”

“I don’t know.” She mumbled the words into her gown.

“Then you might as wel come home with me,” he said quietly. She was exhausted, beaten down, and it bothered him more than it should.

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“Why? So you can lock me away again, starve me, tor

ture me?” Her voice was weak, but angry. He shook his head. “You’ve no’ been starved or tortured.”

She snorted and tossed her head.

“You sound like yer horse.”

She narrowed her gaze on him. “Go away.”

He ignored her, leaning over to scoop her into his arms. She gave an affronted cry and struggled, kicking her feet.

“Ouch.” Tears sprang to her eyes.

“Be stil , Aileanna. You’l only cause yerself more pain, and I’l no’ let you go.” He placed her on Lucifer’s back.

“Doona’ move. He’s no’ as tame as Bessie,” he warned her as he put the bridle he’d brought with him onto Bessie. Swinging himself onto his horse, he wrapped an arm around her and felt her stiffen. They traveled in silence, and she slowly relaxed against him. Rory battled his body’s response to her, fought the urge to bury his face in her heatherscented, silky hair, to fil his hands with the weight of her ful breasts. Even reminding himself of her betrayal was of little help, and he hoped she did not feel him harden beneath the curve of her behind. Upon hearing the soft sounds of her snoring, he gave a relieved chuckle. Rory took the long way back to Dunvegan in an attempt to avoid as many of the clan as he could. Anger against Aileanna ran high. Only the morning before he had been confronted by an angry mob seeking vengeance. Old lady Cameron had been quick to shout them down. To Rory’s surprise, Cook and several of the serving girls, along with Janet, Jamie, and the Chisholms came to Aileanna’s de fense, giving him and the others the same tal tale Fergus and Iain tried to feed him. Obviously awaiting his return, Mrs. Mac, Fergus, Iain, and Connor hurried toward him as he entered the courtyard.

“What have you done to her?” Iain cried out.

“Nothin’, brother. She hurt her foot in her attempt to

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escape is al , and obviously exhausted herself while she was at it,” Rory commented wryly when she remained asleep in his arms despite the commotion. Iain reached for her and Rory careful y handed her down to him. Dismounting, he said, “I’l take her now.”

“Nay, I wil —”

“You wil give her to me now,” Rory grated out. His brother looked down into her sleeping face, and shook his head.

“You canna’ put her back in the tower, Rory. I wil na’ al ow it.”

“’Tis my decision, Iain, no’ yers,” he said, reaching for her.

“You doona’ understand, brother, you . . .” Iain shook his head and looked at him, a pained expression on his face. “I canna’ let her suffer any longer. I have somethin’ I must tel you, Rory, and I pray you wil be able to forgive me.”

Chapter 16

Fairies. The fairies brought her—for you. To save you.

“Bloody hel ,” Rory muttered under his breath. “What have you done, Iain?” But he knew what his brother had done. Desperate to save him, he’d waved the flag without thought to the consequences. At first Rory had been tempted not to believe him, to think the wild tale was just another attempt to get him to believe in Aileanna’s innocence, to keep her from the tower. One look at Fergus’s and Mrs. Mac’s faces con vinced him it was no story Iain concocted, but the truth. With the toe of his boot he nudged the peat into the mouth of the flame. A shower of sparks fol owed with a loud crackle and pop. He glanced over his shoulder from where he sat by the fire to look at Aileanna. Hours had passed, and stil she slept in his bed, beneath the mountain of covers Mrs. Mac had piled on top of her. Rory pressed his fingers to his temples. What was he to do with her? A woman snatched from her own time to save him. He al owed himself a slight smile. It went a long way in explaining the strange way she had of speaking and be

having. But how would she feel when he told her he could not send her home? That he must sacrifice her desires for 196

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the good of the clan. He would not use the last wish. One day it might mean the difference to the clan’s survival. Surely she would understand.

He heard the rustle of bedding and turned to see Aileanna sitting up, looking down at her nightclothes. Through the dim light of the candles he saw her scowl at him.

“You have a lot of nerve,” she sputtered. Rory eased himself from the chair and walked toward the bed, suppressing a smile. “I didna’ disrobe you, lass.

’Twas Mrs. Mac who saw to you,” he assured her, unable to keep an image of him slowly stripping each layer of clothing from her, revealing her naked flesh, from playing out in his mind. Aileanna clutched the sheets to her chest, and croaked,

“Why . . . why have you put me in your room and not the tower?”

Rory lifted the pitcher from the bedside table and poured her a cup of water, offering it to her. “And before you ask,

’twas boiled.”

Her fingers brushed his when she took the cup. “You didn’t answer me,” she said, eyeing him over the rim.

“I ken who you are, Aileanna.”

She choked on a mouthful of water, but was quick to re

cover. “Oh, you’ve heard from Angus then. What did he tel you? Obviously something to make you believe I’m not a spy, or I’d stil be locked away.”

He retrieved the cup and set it on the table before he turned back to her. “Nay, that would be Iain’s doin’.”

“Iain.” She shot a panicked look around the room.

“Where . . . where is he?”

Rory sat on the edge of the bed and brushed a strand of hair from her pale cheek. “I ken everything, Aileanna. Iain confessed.”

“Did you hurt him, because if you did I’l —”

He shook his head, unhappy with her wil ingness to be

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lieve the worst of him. “No matter what you think of me, Aileanna, you must ken I would no’ hurt my brother.” He lifted her hand to examine the damage she’d done in her escape from the tower. “I appreciate the lengths to which you went to protect him. I only wish you would’ve told me before I—”

“You what, tortured me . . . starved me?”

Rory let out an exasperated sigh. “You ken I didna’ tor

ture or starve you, Aileanna, but I ken I hurt you, and fer that I’m sorry.”

She bowed her head and her cheeks pinked. He tipped her chin, forcing her to look at him. In the can dlelight her eyes, awash with tears, shimmered. Rory sucked in an anguished breath. “I didna’ mean what I said. I was angry and hurt that you betrayed me, and I lashed out at you.

’Tis no’ somethin’ I’m proud of. Al I ask is that you under

stand where the words came from and accept my apology.”

Ali tilted her head and looked up at the ceiling, blinking back tears. When her emotions were under some sem blance of control, she forced herself to ask him, “Now that you know, wil you use the flag to send me home?” Her head was spinning, not sure what she hoped his answer would be. What she real y wanted to know, but was too afraid to ask, was if he’d meant it when he denied his love for her. Did she compare as poorly to his wife as he sug gested? Even now, repeating his words in her head caused fresh tears to spring to her eyes. She couldn’t bear to ask him the questions for fear she would be humiliated again, and her heart couldn’t stand the rejection.

“Doona’ you think you could be happy here at Dunvegan?”

How could he ask her that after what had gone on be

tween them? Nothing had changed. He stil meant to marry Moira. The sheets pooled at her waist as she wiped the moisture from her cheeks with the backs of her hands. 198

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He smoothed the hair from her face with his fingers, then trailed them down her arms. Her nipples tightened, and she groaned inwardly when they puckered against the thin fabric of her shift. How was she supposed to think clearly with him so close? With him touching her?

“How . . . how could I be happy here? They al think I’m a thief, and if that’s not bad enough, a witch.”

He continued to stroke her arms, as though he knew what he did to her. Goose bumps formed beneath her heated skin. Her nipples ached, and her breasts grew heavy and ful . His eyes softened. “Doona’ worry. I wil find a way to make them believe in yer innocence without tel in’

the truth.”

Her heart raced, and she shook her head. She couldn’t do it, not with how things stood between them. He felt nothing for her, and her feelings for him were too strong.

“No, I can’t stay. I want to go home.”

He gave her a pained smile. “Aileanna, if I use the last wish to return you to yer home, I leave the clan vulnera ble. We are in difficult times. I may have need of the fairies’ magic. Can you no’ understand?”

“Oh, I understand al right. You expect me to sacrifice my happiness for the good of your clan.” She flung the words at him.

“There was a time when I thought you could be happy here, Aileanna,” he said quietly. “Wil you no’ try?”

She flopped back onto the mound of pil ows. “It doesn’t look like I have much of a choice, now do I?”

“Do you have kin you leave behind?”

“No, there’s no one,” Ali admitted unhappily. “My mother died when I was seven, and none of the foster homes I was sent to ever worked out.” She wouldn’t tel him Dunvegan had become more of a home to her than any she had ever known growing up.

He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her palm,

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murmuring, “I’m sorry you suffered, and I doona’ mean to make you suffer further, but I canna’ send you back.”

“You can . . . but you won’t.”

He stood at the side of the bed and looked down at her.

“Mayhap you’l feel better once you have something to eat. I’l have Mrs. Mac fix you a plate.”

She was starved. But she wasn’t a man, and if he thought he’d soften her up by feeding her, he was sadly mistaken.

“Aileanna.” He gave her a pointed look, his hand on the handle of the door. “The flag is no longer in my room, but even if it was, lass, it would do you no good. The magic only works if a MacLeod waves the flag.”

“You’d think someone could’ve told me that before,” she muttered.

She heard his husky laughter as he left the room and threw a pil ow, hitting the back of the door instead of him. Ali swung her legs over the edge of the bed and cursed. Her foot—she’d forgotten. She brought the candle from the bedside table and held it so she could examine her leg, noticing her bloodied fingers as she did. Her ankle was swol en to twice its size. She blew out a frustrated breath. It was obvious she wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon. At the end of Rory’s bed she noted the linens piled on the battered wooden trunk. Unable to reach them, she grabbed ahold of the carved wooden post and groaned; every muscle ached, protesting the movement. Gritting her teeth, she hopped on one foot, then bent down to pick up the piece of cloth. Back in the comfort of Rory’s big bed, Ali dipped the fabric in the pitcher of water. Wringing it out, she wrapped it around her ankle and propped her foot on a pil ow. Anx

ious to inspect her injuries, she hiked the chemise to her thighs to check on her knees. Obviously Mrs. Mac had cleaned her up as wel as changed her. Only a smal amount of dried blood was visible on her skinned knees. 200

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Her stomach grumbled as she dabbed at the scrapes with the other cloth. Maybe she would feel better if she had something to eat, especial y if it was Mrs. Mac or Mari who kept her company instead of Rory. Looking up at the sound of metal clanging against metal, she saw Rory, framed in the door. The flickering light from the torches in the hal cast him in shadows—

a hardened warrior, the man she’d fal en hopelessly in love with, a man who tore her heart from her chest and flung it aside. She was too tired, too vulnerable to deal with him.

“Thank you, you can leave it over there.” She pointed to the table that stood by the fireplace. Rory hesitated before coming into the room, and she quickly realized what held his attention. Hastily, she pushed the shift over her knees.

He cleared his throat. “I doona’ think ’tis a good idea fer you to be walkin’ aboot,” he said, jerking his head in the direction of her foot.

“No, it’l be fine. I’l —” She sent her eyes heavenward when he ignored her and strode to the bed. “Do you ever listen to what anyone says?”

“Nay.” He smiled. “You ken I’m right, Aileanna. Yer in no condition to be leavin’ the bed.”

“I did just fine, thank you very much.” She gestured to her foot. “I real y do appreciate you bringing me some thing to eat, but you can—”

The bed creaked under his weight when he sat beside her. He took the bowl and set it on his lap, dipping a wooden spoon into what looked like stew with dark gravy. Ali’s eyes widened. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m feedin’ you. Look at yer hands, lass. They’re a mess. You’l no’ be able to do it on your own.” He brought the spoon to her mouth.

Glaring at him, she shook her head and pressed her lips together.

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He frowned. “I doona’ think I’ve met anyone as stubborn as you.”

“I’m . . . ugh—” The second her mouth opened, he shoved the spoon inside.

“Yer a verra messy eater,” he said as he dabbed at her chin with the edge of the linen.

“I wouldn’t be if . . . Oh, my God, you are the most in

furiating man I’ve ever met,” she cried when he managed to get another spoonful into her mouth.

“You canna’ win with me, so be a good lass and eat yer dinner.”

Five minutes later, Rory gave her a satisfied smile.

“There, that wasna hard,” he said as she finished the last of the stew.

“It was good. Thank you,” she admitted grudgingly as he returned the bowl and spoon to the bedside table. “Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to get some sleep.”

“Aye, I’l leave you be in a moment. Mrs. Mac sent some salve fer yer bruises and to take the ache from yer muscles.”

Ali narrowed her gaze on the smal pot he held in his big hand, recognizing the scent of fragrant herbs with a hint of animal fat as a formula she and Mrs. Mac had recently come up with. They had been combining their knowledge of herbs to create medicines for the clan, but it was diffi

cult with no refrigeration, and the concoctions had to be made almost daily. “If you think I’m going to let you put that on me, you have a few screws loose.”

Rory raised a brow at her. “Aidan was right—yer speech is verra interestin’, but at least I ken why. Now, be a good lass and turn on yer side.”

Ali crossed her arms over her chest and scowled at him.

“You can’t honestly expect me to believe Mrs. Mac sug

gested you were to put that on me.”

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He grinned. “Aye, she did. You canna’ do it yerself, Aileanna. You have open wounds on yer hands. It wil sting.”

“I’m tough.” She motioned for him to give her the pot of cream.

His gaze softened. “Aye, you’ve told me that before.”

She closed her eyes, damning the tears that threatened at the memory of when she’d said those exact words to him.

“Let me do this fer you. I promise, I’l be gentle.”

That’s what she was afraid of. “It’s al right. Mrs. Mac can do it for me.”

“They’re al abed, lass,” he murmured, scooping a smal amount of cream onto his fingers. Despite her protests he began to massage it into her arm. His hands were warm and strong. Holding the strap of her shift aside he worked his way from the top of her shoulder, down to her wrist. Careful y he lifted her hand and brought it into the light from the candle, his fingers tracing the bones. “The other night I hurt you when I grabbed you here.” He brought her hand to his lips and pressed a tender kiss to the inside of her wrist, his eyes never leaving hers. Her mouth went dry and she didn’t dare speak—she didn’t think she could. Her heart hammered in her chest. He lowered her hand and scooped more of the salve onto his fingers to massage the other arm in a slow, sensual motion. Her eyes fluttered closed, his gentle touch a form of exquisite torture. She wanted to feel those powerful hands al over her. He pressed his lips to her other wrist and murmured an apology. She prayed he was finished as much as she prayed he’d just begun. Rory leaned over and lifted her hair away from her shoulders. “Rol on yer side, mo chridhe.” His words came out deep and gravel y against her ear. She couldn’t protest—it felt too good. He skimmed a knuckle along her cheek and down her arm. The bed creaked when he stood and gently cradled her foot with his hand while he urged her

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onto her side with the other. Placing another pil ow between her calves, he propped her injured foot on top. The weight of his body settled in behind her as the mat

tress dipped. His fingers worked at the delicate buttons at the back of her shift. Before she realized what he had done, the fabric drifted apart and the whole of her back was ex

posed to him. She felt naked and vulnerable, and she’d promised never to let herself feel that way with him again.

“Shh, ’tis al right, mo chridhe. I wil na’ hurt you.”

She gave a short, bitter laugh, wincing as she rol ed over to face him. Ali pressed her hands to his chest in an at tempt to push him away. “No, I won’t let you do this to me. Not again. Do you remember what you said to me, Rory?

Because I know I’l never forget.”

He cupped her face between his roughened palms. “Aye, I remember. I was angry, angrier than I’ve ever been before. Can you no’ understand what I felt?”

“What about me? I loved you. You’re marrying another woman and I have to let you go, and not because I want to, but because I have no choice. Those damn fairies didn’t give me a choice and neither did you.”

He kissed the tears from her cheeks. “I do love you, Aileanna, and I’m no’ marryin’ Moira. I wil na’ go through with the betrothal, no’ now.”

“Don’t . . . don’t lie to me. Lust isn’t love—that’s what you said, didn’t you? I won’t come second to anyone, Rory, not even your dead wife. I deserve more.”

He gave her a slight shake. “Stop. Why wil you no’ try to understand? Aye, I desire you as I never have another, including Brianna. But I do love you, Aileanna, more than I should. And I canna’ let you go. I wil na’ let you go.” A hard edge crept into his deep voice.

His words penetrated the anger and the hurt. She searched his face. “Did you just say you aren’t marrying Moira?”

“Aye, ’tis what I said,” he growled.

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She hesitated before she asked, “And you love me?” She lowered her eyes and her cheeks flushed. “As much as you loved your wife?” Her voice was whisper soft.

“The love I feel fer you is no’ the same as my love fer Brianna. How can it be when yer no’ the same woman?

Canna’ you understand that?” He was angry now. She could hear it in his voice.

“Aye, I can.”

He blinked, then grinned. “I’l make a Scot of you yet, mo chridhe.” His eyes darkened. “But now al I want is to make you mine.”

Chapter 17

Rory’s low, gravel y voice, and the heated words he whispered against her ear, triggered a frisson of desire that left Ali weak and trembling. Heavy-lidded, passion-fil ed emerald eyes sought hers before he lowered his mouth. But the fierceness of his kiss brought with it the unwanted memories of the last time he had her at his mercy. As though sensing her withdrawal, he drew back, his gaze searching. “What is it, mo chridhe?”

She shook her head and tangled her fingers in his thick black hair, forcing his mouth to hers in an attempt to push the memories aside, and the words he’d earlier tried to ex

plain away.

“Nay, Aileanna, you wil tel me what it is,” he said, re

fusing to let her coax him back to passion. Ali’s hand fel to her side, and she lay back amongst the pil ows. Catching her lower lip between her teeth, she scanned the dimly lit room. “I keep thinking about the other night, and what you said to me. I—”

“I apologized, Aileanna, fer my words and actions.”

Frustration laced Rory’s voice.

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understand why you didn’t believe me.” Torn between the desire to be embraced by the heat of his powerful body and needing distance from it, she careful y rol ed to her side.

“Mayhap because you had the flag in yer hands, and you didna’ tel me the truth.”

“And you know why.” The pil ow muffled her voice.

“Aye.” He lifted the heavy fal of her hair and pressed a tender kiss to her neck. “I do. There’s no more I can say to you, Aileanna, other than I’m sorry. Mayhap ’tis too soon.” The thin strap of the shift slipped from her shoul der, and his hot mouth moved down the curve of her neck to taste her there. “I want you, mo chridhe, but I’l wait.”

His body tight to hers, she could feel the evidence of his desire, big and hard, pressed to the back of her thigh. Her breath shuddered as he emblazoned a fiery path of kisses along her spine. The feel of his tongue dipping into the two dimples at the smal of her back made her squirm. The shift gaped wider, and the strap slid farther down her arm. With a practiced hand, he slipped his fingers be

neath the thin fabric, trailing them along the curve of her waist to her hip. “Do you want me to stop?” His deep voice vibrated against her heated flesh. Ali’s breathing quickened, desire unfurling in her bel y.

“Yes . . . no, don’t stop,” she whimpered as his long fingers tweaked her puckered nipple. Rory gently rol ed her to her back, amusement glinted in his green eyes, and his mouth lifted at the corner in a knowing grin. “Are you certain?” he asked as he lowered the flimsy material inch by torturous inch, exposing her breasts ful y to his gaze. He devoured her with a heated look as he laved first one nipple and then the other. She arched her back, pressing her breasts to his lips, wanting him to suckle her deep into his hot, wet mouth. His laugh was low and husky. “That brings back a memory of the first time you were in my bed, mo chridhe.”

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Irritation penetrated the passion-fil ed haze that engulfed her. When she glared at him, he laughed harder. “If you were any kind of gentleman, Rory MacLeod, you wouldn’t remind me of that night, especial y since you now know how it came about.”

“Aileanna, have I no’ told you I’m no gentleman when it comes to you. And I’m thinkin’ I should thank the fairies fer deliverin’ you to me naked.”

“That wasn’t the fairies’ doing, it was yours. You had my T-shirt off of me the minute I landed in your bed.” Heat tingled between her thighs at the memory, at the feel of him beside her.

“T-shirt? I doona’ ken what that is, but I ken I want you naked in my bed now.” Propping himself on an elbow, he skimmed his hand to the edge of her shift and slowly worked it over her hips, her breasts. She helped him as she had that first night, her arms trembling with eagerness as she raised them over her head. When she lay naked before him, he sucked in an appreciative breath. Ali’s cheeks heated as his intense gaze raked over her, and she tugged at the sheets to cover herself. He stopped her. “Nay, let me look at you.” He stroked his big, strong hand over her breasts to her bel y, the heat of his palm searing her to her core, fanning her desire. She had to see him—al of him—and ran her fingers along the front of his shirt. “It’s your turn now,” she mur mured as she tugged at the laces, revealing his broad, pow

erful y muscled chest. Trailing a finger along the puckered line of his scar, she lowered her head and pressed her lips to the mark she’d left on him. The banded muscles of his stomach contracted beneath her gentle kiss.

“Aileanna,” he groaned as her fingers moved lower to the thick bulge in his pants. “Are you certain yer no’ too sore?

What aboot yer foot?”

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pants, she barely registered his concern. Only when he took her hand to press her palm to his lips did she look up. He drew away from her to sit on the edge of the bed. She groaned in frustration. “What are you doing?”

Rory laughed as he tugged off his boots, dropping them to the floor. “I’m no’ leavin’ you, lass, of that you can be certain. I thought I might make a faster go of sheddin’ my clothes is al .” He stood, towering over her, the flickering flame of the candle accentuating the chiseled planes of his face. Rory looked terrifyingly big and powerful as he shrugged out of his shirt and tossed it onto the trunk at the end of the bed. Mesmerized, she watched as he peeled off his pants. He was huge and hard, and her experience was limited. It had been important for her to wait until the right man came along. She thought she had. There had been only Drew, but he was nothing compared to Rory. She regretted not having waited, because the only man who would ever be right for her stood before her now in al his rugged, naked glory. Entranced by his beauty, Ali couldn’t pul her eyes away, not until she heard a low rumble of laughter. She lifted her gaze to his, and his emerald eyes gleamed with amuse ment. Ali grabbed a pil ow and threw it at him. “You’re so ful of yourself.”

Laughing, Rory caught the pil ow, then lay down at her side, his amusement fading as he crushed her soft body to his. His cock, pressed to the curve of her bel y, throbbed. He shuddered when her long, delicate fingers encircled him. “Careful, lass, or this wil na’ last long.”

“No?” She smiled, sliding her hand along his shaft.

“Nay.” Rory could barely rasp the word out before he slanted his mouth over her soft pliant lips. He fil ed her mouth with his tongue. Teasing, tasting, he kissed her with a growing urgency. He struggled to hold back his need to take her, to claim her with one savage thrust.

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Ali increased her rhythmic stroking of his cock, and he groaned, certain he would spil his seed like an untried lad if she continued. He stil ed her hand, nudging her thighs apart with his knee. She whimpered. He raised his head, concerned by the soft, desperate sound. “Did I hurt you, Aileanna?”

Passion-glazed violet eyes focused on him. “No . . . no, I want . . . I need you to touch me.”

“You want me to touch you, mo chridhe, like this?” He stroked the silky curls at the juncture of her thighs. She raised her hips. “Yes,” she moaned. “More.”

Her passionate response enflamed his desire. Aileanna was everything and more than he had imagined. He watched the play of emotions on her beautiful face as he stroked her moist core, dipping his fingers into her velvet heat, the desire to taste every glorious inch of her lithe body outweighed by his al -consuming need to be inside her, to make her his.

She writhed beneath him. “Rory, now, please,” she gasped.

Careful y he entered her, his restraint causing the mus

cles of his arms to quiver in protest as he held himself above her. Her eyes slid closed, her head tipped back, and soft moans of pleasure escaped her parted lips when he thrust inside. At the sound of her wanton cries his cock swel ed even more. He fil ed her to the hilt, savoring the feel of her inner muscles tightening around him. He moved inside her tight, wet sheath with slow, deep thrusts. The wanton look upon her face, her lush curves and puckered nipples rubbing against his chest, brought him to the edge of his control. No longer able to take it slow and easy like he wanted, he plunged in and out of her, hard and fast. Certain he could withstand it no longer, he reached between them and touched her swol en nub, 210

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stroking. She bucked beneath him, crying out at the same time he found his release and fil ed her with his seed. Rory smothered her cries with his mouth, deepening the kiss as he rol ed careful y to his side, shifting his weight from her body. His cock jerked inside her and he cupped her firm behind with his hands, pressing her against him to thrust one last time. “The next time we’l take it slow, mo chridhe,” he murmured against her lips, brushing her tangled hair from her face. She snuggled into his chest, and nodded her assent. “I doona’ think I wil ever get enough of you, Aileanna. You’ve bewitched me.” Some

thing inside of him froze at the truth of the words that slipped unbidden past his lips. Fear skirted the edge of his consciousness. The depth of emotion he felt for her was dangerous. He needed to temper his desire for her, control his love, or al would be lost. He would not al ow himself to become consumed by her as his father had been by his mother, at the expense of al else. It would bring nothing but heartache, possibly death. And because of Aileanna, Rory had already put the clan at risk.

But he had told her the truth. There would be no union with the MacLeans. Thrust into his world through no fault of her own, Aileanna was now his responsibility. He owed her his life, and would marry her to make up for al she had lost.

“You might not want to say that too loud, Rory, or you’l have that priest after me again.” Her throaty, contented laugh jerked him out of his unwelcome musings. Absently he kissed the tip of her nose. “Nay, I’l let no one harm you, Aileanna.” Sliding his cock from her heated clasp, he ignored the sense of loss when he pul ed away from her. “’Tis time for you to rest.”

“Where are you going?” she murmured sleepily, reach

ing out to him when he rose from the bed.

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“’Tis best if yer no’ found in my chambers come morn, at least until the betrothal is announced.”

Ali blinked. “What did you just say?” Her gaze focused on his face as she gathered the tangled sheets to her chest. He glanced up as he pul ed on his pants, addressing her as though she were a child. “The betrothal, Aileanna. Until

’tis announced, it would be best if you slept in yer own room.”

Ali’s heart thumped painful y against her rib cage. She clutched the sheets tighter. “Who . . . whose betrothal?”

Rory quirked a brow. He gave her a puzzled look, then tossed her the crumpled shift from the floor. “Ours. Did you no’

think I would marry you, after this?” He tipped his head toward the bed.

“No, since you didn’t ask and I didn’t say yes,” she sput

tered, pul ing the nightgown over her head with jerky movements. Her chest constricted with the painful realiza tion that he only wanted to marry her because she’d slept with him. And he didn’t even have the decency to propose, tel her he loved her, get down on his knee and offer her a ring. Oh no, his lordship simply assumed she would be thril ed to marry him. That she would bow to his com

mands like everyone else. Angry tears clogged her throat.

“’Tis because of me you find yerself here, Aileanna. Yer my responsibility now, and I wil do right by you.”

“Oh, I see. You feel responsible for me because the fairies sent me to save your life, and because you refuse to send me back you’ve decided you have to marry me. Does that about cover it?” The suffocating tightness swirled higher in her chest. Beyond hurt, she was devastated. He would marry her, but not because he loved her. Ali couldn’t bear to be just another responsibility to him, like everyone else in his clan. She wanted to be someone he could turn to in times of trouble, someone for him to lean on. She wanted al of him—heart, body, and soul. 212

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“Aye,” he responded warily.

She flung back the covers and swung her legs over the edge of the mattress. With a tight grip on the post, she awk wardly came to her feet.

Rory stepped in front of her, his brow creased with con

cern. “What has gotten into you, Aileanna? You seem angry, lass.”

“Angry? You think I’m angry?” She tried to shove him out of her way, but the man was built like his damn moun tains and didn’t budge.

He crossed his arms over his bare chest, muscles rip

pling beneath his golden skin. “You wil tel me what has you in such a temper.”

“You.” She poked the middle of his chest with her finger, blinking back tears. “I’m not marrying you, Rory MacLeod. Not now, not ever.”

He frowned. “I doona’ understand you, Aileanna. Mayhap yer tired and we should talk aboot this on the morrow.”

“No, there’s no need. I’ve made up my mind. I’m not marrying you.”

“Did you no’ tel me you loved me? Did we no’ just make love?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” she ground out between clenched teeth. The pain in her foot was now as intense as the pain in her heart.

“I doona’ ken how things work in yer time, lass, but in mine, when a woman and a man make love, speak words of love, they wed.”

“Is that right? So the only person you ever made love to besides me was Brianna?” She’d heard al about his prowess with the ladies, whether she had wanted to or not. For some ridiculous reason his clansmen were as proud of their laird’s reputation in the bedroom as on the battlefield.

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The man was a legend. Let’s see him talk himself out of this one, she thought.

“’Tis no’ the point,” he grumbled. “I bedded you, I’l wed you.”

Ali’s hand clenched into a fist, itching to strike the ar

rogant look from his face. “In my time, it doesn’t matter, so you’re off the hook. Marry Moira MacLean. I know you, Rory MacLeod. It’s kil ing you to give up on a union you think wil save your clan. Just do it. I don’t have any thing to offer you.”

He shuttered the emotion in his eyes, and Ali’s stomach lurched. She was right. He’d marry her, but at what cost?

He’d resent her. She would be the reason there could be no al iance between the MacLeans and the MacLeods.

“There wil be no union with the MacLeans. You and I wil wed. ’Tis the end of the discussion.” He lifted her easily into his arms and strode to the door, jaw set. Ali wanted to fight him, to leap from his arms, but he was too strong, and she was too sore, too tired, too devas

tated by the turn of events.

Once they were inside her chambers and Rory had placed her careful y on the bed, he looked down at her, running his fingers through his hair. “I doona’ understand you, Aileanna, but I tel you we wil wed.” She could hear the steel in his voice.

“No . . . we won’t.” Ali thumped her pil ow and turned her back to him.

“Yer bloody stubborn, lass,” he grumbled. She heard his frustrated sigh as he padded across the floor. There was a clunk, like he threw something, and then the sound of the fire roaring to life. The smoky smel of peat perme ated the room.

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gentle touch. “Wil you no’ tel me why yer fashed, Aileanna?”

She shook her head, misery twisting her insides. Rory blew out a ragged breath. He leaned over her to kiss her forehead. “We’l talk on the morrow, Aileanna, but mark my words. You wil be my wife.”

Chapter 18

Arms crossed, Ali watched from the bed while Mrs. Mac flitted about her room, doing her best to ignore her. Unable to bear the frigid silence any longer, Ali asked, “Are you never going to speak to me again?”

Mrs. Mac avoided meeting her eyes. Hands on her wel rounded hips, she surveyed the room. “Och, now, I’m busy is al .”

“I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings, Mrs. Mac. I didn’t know what else to do,” she offered quietly. The older woman nodded. “I ken how you felt, but ’twas hard you tryin’ to leave without a good-bye. I . . . we thought you cared for us a wee bit, you ken.”

“I do, and I don’t think any of you understand how hard it was for me to think of leaving you al .” Ali blinked back tears at the memory of just how difficult it had been. None of them knew how much they’d come to mean to her.

“Och, wel , yer here for good now. Al wil be as it should be,” Mrs. Mac stated succinctly. Ali narrowed her gaze on her. “What’s that supposed to mean?” If Mrs. Mac thought she was marrying Rory any time soon, Ali planned on setting her straight. 216

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“’Tis like I said. The fairies meant you fer our laird, and

’tis how it wil be. He’l no’ marry Moira MacLean now.”

“He’s no’ marrying me either. I mean not . . . I’m not mar

rying him—no matter what he thinks.”

A wide grin split Mrs. Mac’s lined face. “Ah, so he came to his senses and asked, did he?”

“No.” Ali scowled. “He didn’t ask—he told me. But I won’t marry him, Mrs. Mac, so you can wipe that sil y grin off your face.” She flung back the covers in an attempt to get out of bed.

“Och, no you don’t. Yer to stay in bed. You need yer rest.

’Tis what the laird has ordered.”

“He’s the bossiest, most aggravating man I’ve ever met,”

Ali said, flopping onto the pil ows.

“Aye, he is, but he’l make you a good husband, of that I’m certain.”

“Yes, if al you want is someone to protect and take care of you.”

Mrs. Mac frowned, making herself comfortable on the side of the bed. “You doona’ want someone to look out fer you?”

“Of course I do, but he only wants to marry me because of those damn fairies. He feels responsible for me, guilty about what happened. But in the end he’l resent me, Mrs. Mac, for his not being able to marry Moira. The welfare of the clan is more important to him than anything else.”

“Ah, I see the way of it. You want his love, to hold his heart.”

“Aye—oh for God’s sake, yes, that’s what I want.”

Mrs. Mac stood and gave a reassuring pat to Ali’s leg.

“Take it from a woman who kens the lad wel —he loves you, Lady Aileanna, of that I’m certain. I ken what yer sayin’, but you’l see, everythin’ has a way of workin’ itself out.”

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marry her out of a sense of obligation, and for her that was no reason.

“If yer wantin’ a bath, I’l have Connor get started on it. Och, I almost forgot to tel you—Mari and Connor ken about the fairies and who you’d be.”

Ali’s eyes widened. “How? Who told them?”

“’Twas no’ that someone told them exactly. When the laird brought you to his room they fol owed us in, worryin’

aboot you, they were. They overheard Iain tryin’ to explain to the laird what happened. No one realized they were there until it was too late. But doona’ fash yerself, they’l no’ be tel in’ anyone. They ken it would be dangerous fer you if word got out.”

Mrs. Mac, Connor, and Mari stared at her in openmouthed astonishment. Face flushed, Ali blew out an exas perated breath. So maybe she’d let her temper get the better of her, but she couldn’t stand being in bed any longer. Or to listen to the three of them insist she had to fol ow the laird’s orders. She wasn’t dying, she had a sprained ankle for God’s sake, and it felt much better, at least good enough for her to go out and get a breath of fresh air.

“The laird wil be none too pleased with you, Lady Aileanna,” Mrs. Mac warned as Ali hobbled toward her chamber door.

“I’m sure I’l hear about it.” If Ali was honest, she’d admit at least some of her anger was due to the fact Rory hadn’t bothered to check on her himself. It was late after

noon and the man hadn’t come near her. Yesterday he’d made love to her, told her they would marry, and yet today he couldn’t spare her a single minute of his time. Just thinking about it made her mad.

“He’s a wee bit busy, so mayhap you’l be lucky and he’l no’ ken what yer aboot.”

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Ali harrumphed. “Busy playing his war games, is he?”

“’Tis no game, or won’t be. Laird Aidan arrived back early this morn from escortin’ the MacLeans home. He brought word the MacDonalds are on the move. The laird’s been shut in his study most of the morn, and the men are gatherin’ in the hal .” At this point Mrs. Mac avoided her eyes, and Ali’s heart pinched.

“They’re going to pressure him to marry Moira, aren’t they?” She wasn’t prepared for the wave of utter despair that washed over her. No matter that she had told him to go through with the betrothal herself, she didn’t think she could bear it if he did.

“Aye, some do, but he wil na’ do it. He’s promised him

self to you, and he’d no’ go back on his word.”

“And when men die in the battle, I’l be the one they blame.” There was no way around it; she lost either way. The three of them looked at one another, obviously unable to dispute the truth of what she said. When she opened the door, Ali was met by the sound of men’s voices raised in anger. Taking a steadying breath, she limped from the room.

“If you have yer mind set, my lady, Connor wil accom

pany you. Mari, we must see to Laird Aidan’s room. He’l be here for a wee while I’m thinkin’.”

Ali closed her hand over the smooth wood of the banis

ter and Connor took a light hold of her arm as they slowly made their way down the stairs.

“Why wil ye no’ just wed Lady MacLean?” yel ed a man in the hal .

Ali cringed, and Connor tightened his grip on her elbow.

“Aye . . . Aye.” The words repeated over and over again until Ali thought it would never end. She heard Rory’s deep voice rumble over the gathered crowd. “I canna’ do it. I’m marryin’ Lady Aileanna.”

Ali closed her eyes and slowly released the breath

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she hadn’t realized she held. Aside from the fact he’d just announced they would marry, and didn’t seem too con cerned she had told him they wouldn’t, she was relieved. Happy he hadn’t al owed his men to force him into a union with Moira MacLean.

Silence met his announcement until someone shouted in disgust, “Ye risk our lives to wed a thief.”

Grumbles of discontent fol owed.

Trembling with anger, Ali stepped careful y off the bottom stair. How dare they question him after al he’d done for them? The man spent every waking hour seeing to their needs, their wel -being. She caught a glimpse of Rory in his plaid, towering above them on the dais. The man took her breath away. He was magnificent, and she couldn’t help but wonder if it was true that highlanders wore nothing beneath their kilts. Watching him standing there, powerful and in command, she knew she wanted to find out. Aidan, Fergus, and Iain stood with him. Rory laid a hand on his brother’s arm to stop him from the protest he appeared ready to deliver. With a brief shake of his head, Rory looked down at the crowd. “Lady Aileanna is no thief. She thought to protect the flag from the MacLeans is al . Misguided she may have been, but nothing more. You condemn her, Donald, but I seem to recal you’d no’

have yer leg if no’ fer her.”

“Aye, and ’tis on account of the magik she wields as a witch that she heals as she does,” someone shouted from the back of the hal . Several more chimed in, their ayes re

verberating off the stone wal s.

Connor tugged on her arm. “Mayhap it would be best if ye went back to yer room, my lady.”

Ali shook her head. It was difficult to hear what they said, but she needed to know how the clan felt about her. She 220

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edged closer to the entrance of the hal . Rory must have sensed her presence and their eyes met across the room. He held her gaze with his and said, “I wil na’ have Lady Aileanna’s name besmirched. She wil soon be the lady of Dunvegan, and wil be treated as such, or you’l answer to me.”

“But . . . but what does she bring to us?”

She saw the glint in his eyes and the slight curve of his sensual lips. “’Tis no’ what she brings to the clan, but what she brings to me that I’m thinkin’ on.”

Ribald laughter greeted his remark and some of the ten

sion in the hal dissipated. Ali rol ed her eyes and he winked at her, causing a heated flutter in her bel y. Then he drew his gaze from hers and returned his attention to his men. A part of her wanted to believe what they shared would one day take precedence over al else, but she knew with a man like Rory, it would never happen.

“Connor, if you don’t mind I’d like to go down by the loch.” She kept her voice low so no one would realize she’d been there, but she needn’t have bothered. Already talk of the upcoming battle drew their attention.

“Aye, we can try to manage it if ye’d like, my lady.”

Rory swung his legs over the ledge of boulders onto the stone beach of the loch, fighting a smile when he spotted Aileanna. Like a sea nymph washed up on shore, the sun

beams danced in the waves of her long hair. She leaned against a rock with her gown hiked to her knees, her feet in the water.

“I’m certain I told Mrs. Mac to keep you in yer bed fer the day,” he grumbled as he came to stand over her. Her eyes fluttered open and a slight smile curved her lips. “You did, but you should know by now I don’t fol ow orders very wel .”

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“Aye, I see that.” Rory crouched beside her and took her injured foot in his hand. “It doesna’ look as bad as it did.”

With a light touch, he traced the bruises.

“The water’s cold. It helps with the swel ing.” She squirmed when he trailed his fingers farther up her long leg, and a soft sound of pleasure escaped her parted lips. Lowering her foot, he came to sit at her side and bent his head to claim her mouth. She curled her fingers around his neck, deepening their kiss. The scent of her sun-warmed skin and the feel of her lush curves enveloped him. Cup

ping her face with his hand, he tilted her head and delved deeper with his tongue, tasting her sweetness. He wanted to devour her, to take her away and never let her go, just the two of them—no battle looming over their heads, no clan who depended on him for their every need. But just the thought of those demands was enough to make him pul away from her.

He rested his forehead against hers. “If yer no’ careful I’l have you on yer back down here by the loch.”

Her long fingers stroked him beneath his plaid. His cock, as stiff and hard as the rock at her back, jerked at her delicate touch.

“Grass . . . in the grass would be better,” she said in a husky voice.

“Aye, and to be sure it would give the clan somethin’

more to talk aboot.”

“Right . . . I . . . uh . . . forgot.”

He groaned as she released him, then nibbled at her neck. “Why doona’ I take you to yer room and we can con tinue this there?”

“Is that your subtle way of getting me to stay in bed?”

“Aye, would it work?” He brushed the hair from her beautiful, flushed face.

“It would,” she said, running the pad of her thumb over his 222

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mouth. “But could we stay here for a little while longer? It seems a shame to miss out on such a beautiful day.”

“Aye. The loch brings out the best in you, lass. Yer in a much better mood. Mayhap we should set you up down here.”

Aileanna pul ed a face. “Very funny. Almost as funny as what you did in the hal .”

Rory grinned. “What did I do in the hal ?”

She rol ed her eyes. “Oh, I don’t know—maybe your little announcement that we were getting married, even though I told you we weren’t.” She tapped his chest. Laughing, Rory brought her finger to his lips. “You ken you want to marry me, mo chridhe, yer just too stubborn to admit it.”

“Stubborn? This has nothing to do with me being stub

born. I won’t marry you, Rory. I don’t want a husband who married me because he felt he had no choice, who felt he was responsible for me.” She shook her head. “What kind of marriage would that be?”

“Better than most,” he commented dryly. Rory looked out over the shimmering waters of the loch before he turned to her. “You want me to wed Moira then, is that what yer tel in’ me?”

She averted her eyes. With his finger beneath her chin he brought her gaze back to his. “Answer me, Aileanna.”

“No . . . no, I don’t want you to marry her. There, are you happy now?”

He brushed his mouth over hers. “Aye. The banns wil be read, and we’l marry after we’ve met the MacDonald on the field.”

“I didn’t say yes, Rory.”

“You wil .”

She shook her head, arms folded across her chest. “You know, I have a hard time understanding this feud with the MacDonalds. Why can’t you meet face-to-face and try to work it out?”

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He raised a brow and looked into her stormy eyes.

“We’ve had this discussion before, Aileanna. You doona’

understand.”

“That’s right, I forgot—I’m just a woman. But I’m the same woman who wil be looking after al of you when you drag yourselves half-dead from the battlefield,” she sputtered at him.

“We’l no’ be half-dead,” he muttered.

“You nearly died the last time, Rory.” She blinked, and he saw moisture gather on her lashes. “The next time you might not be so lucky and I don’t think I—” The last of her words came out on a choked sob. He buried his face in her hair, wishing he could take away her worries, wishing he could make her understand that in his time, this was the way of it. Nothing else to be done but stand up for what was right, and fight for what was yours.

“Shh. I’l come home to you in one piece, mo chridhe, I promise.”

Aileanna slapped a hand to his chest. “You can’t make promises like that.” She frowned when he stood up.

“Where do you think you’re going? You can’t just walk away from me when we’re having a fight.”

Rory bit back a smile and shook his head. “I didna’

think we were havin’ a fight, mo chridhe, but someone ap

proaches. Here, let me help you.” He reached for her hand.

“What are you talking about? There isn’t—” She rol ed her eyes when Iain cal ed out to him. Rory laughed at her disgruntled expression. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he tucked her to his side. “We’l continue our talk later, in yer room.”