Debbie Mazzuca - Lord of the Isles

“Aye,” they responded as one, purposeful y avoiding his gaze.

Bloody hell, he cursed beneath his breath. They’d heard his exchange with Iain. He opened his mouth to say some thing, then closed it. What could he say? His gaze drawn to the door they guarded, he could only hope Aileanna hadn’t heard them, too.

The priest’s voice broke through his thoughts, preaching the dangers of hel and damnation. He pinched the bridge of his nose, almost wishing he battled the MacDonald in

stead of dealing with what was to come. “Connor, tel the men to bring the priest to the hal .” He shot the order over his shoulder as he made his way below, scattering the ser

vants gathered at the base of the stairs with an impatient wave of his hand. He looked up in time to see Fergus stride into the keep empty-handed. “I take it the good sheriff was nowhere to be found.”

82

Debbie Mazzuca

Fergus raised a bushy brow. “Yer no’ surprised?”

“Nay, but what of Mari’s mother?”

The big man shook his head. “Too terrified of the priest to stand in defense of her daughter.”

Rory scrubbed a hand along his jaw. “I canna’ say I blame her. At least she thought to bring Mari here when he threatened her the first time.”

“Aye, and Lady Aileanna wil stand up fer her.”

“Aye, and that’s what worries me,” he commented dryly. A commotion from behind him drew his attention. The priest, slapping at his guard’s hands, barreled toward them. With his robes bil owing behind him he looked like an overgrown carrion crow come to feed. The man cuffed one of the guards that tried to restrain him. “Laird MacLeod . .

. my laird, do ye no’ hear me?”

“I wish I didna’,” Rory muttered under his breath. Fergus snorted, clasping his big hands behind his back as he stared down his oft-broken nose at the twitching bundle of fury that stood before them.

“Laird MacLeod, if ye wil release the woman and the girl into my care ye’l be done with the matter.”

“And what is it you’re plannin’ on doin’ with them?”

The priest cleared his throat. “There wil be a trial, of that ye can be certain.” His beady eyes darted toward the en trance of the hal .

“Ah, I see. And do you plan on usin’ torture durin’ this so-cal ed trial?”

The man gave an indifferent shrug of his birdlike shoul

ders. “’Tis necessary at times, ye understand.”

“I understand only too wel , and you should understand this.” He leaned toward the man. “They are under my pro tection. You came onto my lands and almost kil ed that child. The only reason yer no’ locked in my dungeon is on account of my clan and the fact they hold you in some

LORD OF THE ISLES

83

regard. Fer that reason, and that reason alone, I’l al ow you to state yer case.”

“Ye canna’ stand against the Kirk, Laird MacLeod, and wel ye ken it.”

“Yer new to the Isles, Father, or you’d already ken I’ve stood against the Kirk before when it comes to those under my protection. And I’l do so again if need be.”

“But . . . but . . .”

Rory jerked his head at his men, leaving the priest to protest until he was blue in the face. “Take him to the hal .”

Fergus fol owed behind at a leisurely pace. Tilting his head, he took a look into the grand hal and let out a low whistle. “’Tis packed to the rafters.”

Rory rol ed his eyes. He wasn’t surprised. Superstition ran deep amongst his people. They would be crying for the young maid’s death as loudly as the bloody priest. They were slow in giving their acceptance, and Aileanna and Mari had not been around long enough to earn it. “’Tis time, Fergus. See to the women.”

“Aye.” Fergus clapped a heavy hand on Rory’s shoulder.

“Al wil be wel , lad. They respect you. No one wil doubt the wisdom of yer decision once you render it.”

“We’l soon see.” He hoped Fergus was right. The prob

lem was not in making the judgment, but in seeing that his clan saw the truth of it. He made his way into the hal . A warm, musky scent as

saulted his senses. Bodies packed twenty deep lined the wal s. It took time to reach the dais in front of the room as those around him clamored for his attention. Looking out over his clan, the mantle of responsibility settled over his shoulders. His father had entrusted them to his care. They were as much his legacy as the land and the riches that went with his title—maybe more so. Every decision he’d made since assuming his role as laird had been for the good of his clan. His marriage to Brianna had 84

Debbie Mazzuca

been one such decision. Their union brought peace and stability to his people, but with her death, they were once more mired in the constant turmoil of war. His thoughts turned to Aileanna and her eloquent plea for peace. It was as though she assumed he took pleasure in the battle, but that was far from the truth. She didn’t understand. How could she?

She was a woman.

As though his thoughts conjured her up, she stood in the entrance to the hal , her bonny face pale. The somber color of her simple gown didn’t help, but the choice had been a good one. She looked prim and proper, with the col ar but toned up to her throat and the cap hiding the bounty of her long, flaxen hair. Although, when Rory looked at her, al he could see was the outline of her voluptuous curves and wisps of hair that escaped the tight confines of her cap to caress the delicate beauty of her face.

From where he sat, he sensed her vulnerability. She was strong, but he could feel her fear, see it in the way she twisted her hands. She wasn’t daft. She had good reason to be afraid.

Eyes lowered, she took a cautious step forward. The tenor of the room changed. Al conversation halted, and a menacing silence resonated in the hal . Aileanna flushed, and Rory noted the rapid rise and fal of her chest. If he could, he would go to her and offer his reassurance, but that would be a foolish move on his part. Rory’s hand came to rest on his dirk. His muscles coiled with tension, ready to spring into action if the need arose. He would protect her even if it meant one of his own would die. He’d let no harm come to Aileanna. Iain, Fergus, Connor, and even Mrs. Mac would do the same. He could see it in the grim determination on their faces. Aileanna cast a sidelong glance at the young maid who now entered the hal behind them. The wee lass would LORD OF THE ISLES

85

move no farther, frozen in place by fear. Tears streamed down her pale cheeks. Connor and Mrs. Mac tried to nudge her forward. Even though he imagined their words were ones of reassurance, they did no good. It was only when Aileanna took Mari’s hand in hers and whispered in her ear did the lass gather the courage to move forward. Aileanna squared her shoulders and looked out over the crowd as though she dared them to do or say anything against the young girl at her side. She’d swal owed her own fears in defense of Mari. Rory felt a surge of admiration wel within him. There was no denying it; Aileanna Graham was an amazing woman, and he was drawn to her like he’d been to no other. But he refused to act on those feelings. She was under his protection, nothing more. For both their sakes he had to keep his distance. The priest, surrounded by members of his flock, was only now becoming aware of the women’s presence. The priest’s chest puffed out like a rooster, and Rory knew he was getting ready for his tirade. He caught the man’s eye and shot him a fierce look. It was a look Rory had per

fected over a decade of being laird. He had Fergus to thank for the ability. Since the death of his own father, the older man had stepped aptly into the rol of surrogate. Rory trusted him like no other, and seeing him sit at Aileanna’s side brought him a measure of calm.