Debbie Mazzuca - Lord of the Isles

A buzz of excitement hummed in the air as those gath

ered anticipated what was to come. Rory cleared his throat to gain their attention. “The first charge to be dealt with is the charge of witchcraft brought against the young maid, Mari.” Out of the corner of his eye he spied Aileanna draw the wee lass closer. And he would have to be blind not to have seen the aggrieved look she shot him. What did she expect? As laird he had no choice. “Who has evidence to support this charge?”

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The priest leapt to his feet. “I do.”

Brow quirked, Rory regarded him evenly. “I would imag

ine so, since yer the one to bring the charge against the child. Are there no others?”

“Aye,” a voice shouted from the back. The rotund figure of the cook pushed his way to the front of the room and pointed to the lass cowering beside Aileanna. “Three of my chickens died fer no reason the day after she arrived.”

He heard Aileanna’s undignified snort. “He probably fed them the slop I insisted he throw away,” she muttered. Both Fergus and Iain barely managed to suppress their mirth at her comment. He shot the lot of them a forebod ing look. “Cook, was the lass anywhere nearby when the chickens died?”

“Nay, but—” the man sputtered.

“Did you no’ have several chickens die a few months past?”

“Aye, but—”

Rory gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “Are there no others?” He noted some movement at the back, and for their benefit hardened his tone as he added, “Think twice before you cast aspersions on the girl. I wil demand evi dence of yer charge; if there is none, I wil assume you cast it for no other reason than malice and wil no’ look kindly on the one who does.”

The priest’s eyes darted from left to right, scanning the crowd. He appeared to be trying to cajole the woman beside him to come forward, but she shook her head, eyes downcast.

He glared at her, then came to his feet in a show of blus

ter. “Laird MacLeod, as the Kirk’s authority in these matters no other witness is required,” he began self-importantly.

“My evidence alone should be enough to convict the lass.”

Rory raised a brow, tilting his head. “And yer evidence is?”

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“She carries the mark of the devil’s handmaiden. Her hair is red, her eyes mismatched.”

“Oh, come on.” Aileanna shot to her feet, shaking off Fergus’s restraining hand. “Genetics is what it is. Look around you. What about him, or her?” She pointed out a redheaded man and woman on either side of the hal who were doing their best to duck behind those who stood in front of them. The priest pointed at Mari, trembling with frustrated rage.

“’Tis no’ only the hair. ’Tis the eyes that damn her the most.”

“A condition cal ed heterochromia is what is responsi

ble for Mari’s eyes. It’s because she has either too much pigment or lack of it in her iris.”

Rory didn’t know what she was saying, but he did know it was not her place to say it. His brother was to defend Mari. He skewered Iain with an angry glare. Iain shrugged his shoulders helplessly. “Lady Aileanna, you wil sit!”

“This is a farce, and I can’t believe you’re al owing it.”

“Sit down. Now,” Rory growled from between clenched teeth. The bloody woman would undermine him in front of his clan if he was not careful.

“Harrumph.” She sat back down on the bench, folding her arms across her bountiful chest, and gave him a damn ing look.

The priest sneered at her, and Rory expel ed a sigh of relief when Iain grabbed her before she went after the man. His brother leaned over and quietly spoke to her before rising to his feet. Iain held out his hand to the wee lass. “Mari, come here, please.”

Aileanna urged her to her feet.

Noting the curled fist at his brother’s side, Rory hid a smile of satisfaction behind his hand. Iain turned the girl to face the gathered crowd and looked directly at the priest.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but ’tis my understandin’ that no one who is possessed of the devil would be able to 88

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come in contact with a cross, and if it was metal it would surely burn them.”

“Wel , aye, but—” The priest’s eyes widened when Iain re

moved a silver cross from his hand and placed it around the lass’s neck. For added effect, he had her bring it to her lips.

“I would say that’s al the evidence we need. But per

haps we should simply ask Mari.” Rory raised his voice to be heard above the din of voices in the hal . “Are you a witch, lass?”

“Nay.” She shook her head vehemently.

“In league with the devil?”

“Nay, my laird.”

“Thank you, Mari, you may take yer seat.”

Iain guided her back to the bench and Aileanna wrapped Mari in her arms while the lass sobbed quietly. Rory met her gaze above Mari’s head. The smile curving her soft pink lips and the look of gratitude in her sapphire eyes stoked the flame of desire that had simmered inside of him since the moment she’d walked into the hal . Determined to dampen the fire that threatened to engulf him, he tried to draw forth an image of Brianna, but al he managed to conjure of her was an intangible wisp of memory. Guilt ate at him. He was beginning to forget, and al because of her, the woman who sat in front of him. He’d made a promise on Brianna’s deathbed that no other would take her place. He’d meant it then, as he did now. Rory turned his attention from her to the priest. The man was scarlet with pent-up fury. “What of her?”

He pointed a gnarled finger at Aileanna. “I demand she be punished or I shal go to the king.”

Rory leaned forward. “Do you threaten me, Priest?”

“Nay . . . nay, but ye must—”

“What I must do is get at the truth.”

Mrs. Mac relieved Aileanna of the burden of Mari. The woman looked like she prepared for battle. LORD OF THE ISLES

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God help him .

“She struck me down. There are witnesses.”

“None who have come forward,” Rory commented dryly.

“Surely ye jest.”

“Yer cal in’ me a liar, are you?” Rory kept his voice quiet, dangerously so.

“Nay, but—”

“There’s only one person who is lying and that is you.”

Once again, Aileanna was on her feet, ducking beneath Fergus’s outstretched arm she crossed to the priest before anyone could stop her, and grabbed the hem of his gown.

“He caught his foot . . . see, right there.” She pointed to the tear at the bottom of his robes. A tear the priest was doing his best to conceal. “That’s why he fel . I didn’t push him. Al

though I was tempted to.” She said the last under her breath. Rory jerked his head at some of his men to take up their positions amongst the crowd, afraid the excited chatter would soon turn ugly.

“Blasphemy. Laird MacLeod, I demand this woman be made to pay fer her sins.”

“Be quiet. Lady Aileanna, are you sayin’ you didna’

push the priest?”

She gave a curt nod. “I didn’t. He fel because he’d worked himself into a frenzy and his robes are too long.” She turned her head and gave the priest a look of condemnation. “Per

haps God was punishing him for encouraging others to harm an innocent child.”

Bloody hell. She surely would be the death of him. The priest looked about to have an apoplexy. The crowd was stunned into silence.

“Someone must have been a witness to this.”

“Aye, Laird MacLeod, it is as Lady Aileanna says.”

Cal um, the blond giant, lied through his teeth. He flushed under Rory’s scrutiny. 90

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