Debbie Mazzuca - Lord of the Isles

“Aye,” the man-at-arms muttered. Under his breath he said to Ali, “Emotions run high. ’Twil be safer and ap pease the old buzzard if I put ye in the dungeons. But doona’ fret, my lady, I’l see to yer care myself.”

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“Thank you,” she murmured, trying with difficulty to keep up with his long strides. Her feet ached, and she left a trail of bloody footprints on the unforgiving stone. But Mari’s condition was worse. She was limp as a rag dol ; the man-atarms al but carried her. As though sensing Ali’s concern, he reassured her. “As soon as we’re out of their line of sight I’l carry her, my lady.”

Ali appreciated his kindness, but she couldn’t help but feel it had come too late. Mari could’ve died. With the thought, Ali’s temper flared. “I can’t believe Lord MacLeod would al ow his men to stand back while a child was being abused on his land.”

With a furtive glance over his shoulder, he scooped Mari into his arms and turned to Ali. “He wouldna’ al ow it, my lady.”

“But the guards on the wal never did anything and you—”

“I wasna’ here. I had returned to have my wound tended to when I came upon the mob.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” Brow furrowed, she searched for his injury and found the place on his arm where blood stained the fabric just below his shoulder.

“Are you sure you can manage?”

“’Tis no’ but a scratch.” He crossed the slate floor, past the hal , barking orders at the servants who darted out of his way. “Bring whatever Lady Aileanna wil need to see to the wee lass.” He unhooked a lantern from the wal beside a heavy wooden door and handed it to Ali. The thick oak creaked as he opened it and gestured for her to take the lead.

“Step careful y,” he advised.

She did as he suggested, easing her way down the roughhewn stone steps. Cool, musty air enveloped her at the foot of the stairs, and she was unable to suppress the shiver that skittered down her spine. He nudged her forward from behind and something brushed the bottom of her gown. Ali 74

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screamed, nearly dropping the lantern. “What . . . what was that?” she croaked.

“Rats,” he murmured. “I’l send for the cats. The laird should be on his way.”

Ali nodded. She sure as hel hoped so, for both her and Mari’s sake. The man-at-arms propped the girl against his side while he retrieved a key from a heavy iron ring. The barred metal door clanged open, and his mouth flattened as he ushered them inside the four-by-four-foot cel . He gently placed Mari on a rusty old cot. The girl hadn’t made a sound and Ali was afraid she was in shock. “I’l need some blankets . . .”

“Cal um. I’l see to it, my lady. I wil na’ be long.”

Ali sat beside Mari, trying to ignore the grating sound of the key turning in the lock. She cupped the girl’s face between her hands and looked into her eyes. “I won’t let anyone else hurt you, Mari. I promise.”

The young girl shuddered. A strangled sob escaped her pale lips, and she threw herself into Ali’s arms.

“There . . . there, it wil be al right.” Ali patted her back, relieved at least to get some sort of reaction from her. She pul ed away and rested her hands on Mari’s shoulders. “Let’s have a better look at you.”

Mari tugged self-consciously at the tattered remnants of her beautiful gown. Ali came to her feet. Lifting the bottom of her own gown, she tugged the ruffled underskirt down and stepped out of it, careful not to get any blood on the snowy white flounces.

Mari gasped. “My lady, what are ye doin’?”

“Wel , in case Cal um has abandoned us, I won’t have you sitting around half naked when Lord MacLeod arrives.”

“Do ye think he’l come?”

“Of course I do. And when he does, it’l be that psycho

pathic priest who’s down here, not us.”

Mari shook her head. “Nay, ’twil no’ happen.”

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Ali shrugged. “We’l see,” she said as she ripped the underskirt in half and draped it over Mari’s shoulders. “Now, do you think you’ve broken anything?” She knelt on the cold, damp floor, careful y running her hands over Mari’s legs. Mari drew the shawl closed with hands that were scraped raw. “Nay, I hurt is al ,” she whimpered. Ali blinked back tears and hugged Mari to her chest, knowing the young girl hurt as deeply in her heart as she did in her body. Ali vowed the priest would pay for what he’d done. Somehow she’d make sure of it.

“I’l have to wait until Cal um comes back before I can see to your cuts.” Scanning the dimly lit dungeon, she was thankful the lantern provided as little light as it did. She could hear the unmistakable sound of rats scurrying in the dark corners. Ali pushed herself to her feet and took a seat beside Mari. She pul ed the young girl into a tight embrace and leaned against the wal . She tried to ignore the slimy dampness that seeped through the fabric of her gown. Ali longed for the comfort and safety of her cozy apart

ment, the chance to curl up on her couch with a good book and a cup of coffee after a long, hot shower. She swal owed a heartfelt moan. If only she’d found that damn fairy flag. But then you wouldn’t have been there to protect Mari, the voice in her head reminded her. Ali shuddered, not want ing to think about what might have happened if she hadn’t been there to intervene. The sound of feet thudding on the floor above their heads and a familiar deep voice issuing orders caused Ali’s heart to quicken. She squeezed Mari’s hand. “It’l be al right now.”

She heard the door leading to the dungeon crash open and the thunder of footsteps on the stone steps. And then he was there, standing in front of her, big and powerful. His raven black hair was slicked back from his handsome face. His white shirt was open almost to his waist. Sweat 76

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beaded on his sun-bronzed chest. She drew her eyes back to his face, to where a muscle pulsated in his clenched jaw.

“Open the bloody door,” he shouted over his shoulder. From amongst the men crowded behind Rory—Fergus, Iain, and Connor included—Cal um stepped forward and ducked his head. He fumbled with the key as he tried to fit it into the lock. Ali wanted to tel Rory not to be angry at the blond giant. If not for him, she didn’t know what would have happened to her and Mari. But the look in Rory’s eyes when they met hers stopped her cold. Anger reverberated from him as he strode into the cel , and Ali shrank away from him. He crouched in front of Mari and quickly took in her condition. “Let’s get you out of here.” He tucked the lacy fabric around her. Brow furrowed, he slanted a look at Ali, and something flickered in his piercing green eyes. He reached out and skimmed his knuckle along Ali’s cheek.

“Yer al right?” he asked, his voice gruff. Their eyes locked, oblivious to anyone else in the room. Her throat went dry, and she was unable to draw her gaze from his.

Rory quickly lowered his hand to his side, resisting the urge to take Aileanna into his arms, to run his hands over her soft, sweet-smel ing skin and see how badly she had been injured.

He scooped Mari into his arms and strode from the cel . He caught Iain’s eye and jerked his head toward Aileanna. Iain nodded and along with Fergus, escorted her from the cel , each taking a firm hold of her. Rory wasn’t certain if he did it to protect her, or the priest. Both Connor and Cal um had told him how she’d leaped into the fray in order to protect the young maid, without regard for her own safety. His admiration for her only served to inflame the desire he tried so hard to deny.