Debbie Mazzuca - Lord of the Isles

Debbie Mazzuca

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.”

The thought of Rory married to someone else was beyond painful. And at that moment, Ali realized she’d fal en a little bit in love with the man, despite that she couldn’t compete 122

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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.”