Debbie Mazzuca - Lord of the Isles

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