Debbie Mazzuca - Lord of the Isles

“She was injured when the adventurers kidnapped her and has no memory of her kin. Fer the moment she’s under my protection, Moira. I await word from Angus Graham.”

Aidan, who sat on his left, halted his conversation with Fergus. “Ye didna’ mention that earlier, Rory. Are ye cer tain she’s no’ a spy?” His cousin Aidan, who arrived late to the hal , had yet to meet Aileanna and now leaned back in his chair to cast a suspicious look her way. Rory had kept introductions to a minimum, comment ing little on Aileanna’s presence even when he and his cousin had shut themselves away most of the day to strate gize. He hadn’t realized it had been intentional, but obvi

ously it had been, and Moira’s comments of impropriety reminded him why.

“You’ve only just arrived, Aidan, and we had other mat

ters to discuss. Rest assured, Lady Aileanna is no spy.”

Moira walked her fingers along Rory’s arm and tilted her head to gaze up at him. Her nut brown hair brushed his shoulder. “And what would those matters be?”

Her brother Cyril, seated to her right, laughed, saving Rory from answering. Rory wasn’t about to be pushed into LORD OF THE ISLES

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the union. Even though he knew the match had merit, something held him back, and he was beginning to fear that something was at the moment chatting up his brother.

“Ye must excuse my sister, Rory. She has never been known fer her patience.” Cyril patted her hand with an in dulgent smile.

“Cyril.” Moira pouted prettily. “Ye wouldna’ want Rory to think me spoiled, now would ye?”

“Doona’ fret, Moira, that wouldna’ happen,” Rory reas

sured her, looking up in time to catch Aileanna’s stormy blue gaze upon him. Their eyes locked before she turned her back on him. It was then Rory noted Moira had en

twined her fingers with his.

He heard his cousin’s sharp intake of breath. “Sweet Jesu’, she has the look of Brianna.” His mouth gaped. “Are ye certain she has no’ turned yer head because of it, cousin? Mayhap ye should let me question her.”

Before Rory could respond, Fergus cut in. “’Tis I who found the lass, Aidan, and if it wasna’ for her, our laird would be dead.”

Aidan’s head swiveled between Rory and Fergus. “Ye were wounded and ye didna’ tel me?”

Rory shot Fergus a look of reproach. “’Twas nothin’, I’m fine now.”

“Oh my, Rory, ye were wounded?” Moira clasped a hand to the slight curve of her breast and blinked back tears. “I could swoon at the thought,” she said breathlessly, the color draining from her face.

“Doona’ distress yerself, Moira. I’m fine.” He laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. Cyril held a mug of ale to his sister’s lips. “There . . . there, love, take a sip. She’s a wee bit emotional,” her brother confided to Rory while he stroked the curls from his sister’s face.

Aileanna’s gaze fel on them. With a rol of her eyes she 126

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shared a laugh with his brother. A smal measure of anger flared in Rory at her reaction. He didn’t think it fair she con demn the lass on account of her tender feelings. Most women did not have Aileanna’s strength. “Lady Aileanna, Lady MacLean is feelin’ faint. Mayhap you could see to her.”

She passed a cursory glance over Moira before she re

turned her gaze to his. “I’m sure she’l be just fine. Be

sides, you’re doing such a good job, I wouldn’t want to interfere.” She dropped her eyes meaningful y to where his hand laid on Moira’s back.

Moira rewarded him with a wan smile. “She’s right, Rory. I’m feelin’ much improved. Ye have a calming touch.”

“Mayhap it would be best if ye retire for the evenin’, Moira. ’Twas a long ride and yer a bit peaked,” her brother commiserated.

She nodded. Peeking at Rory from beneath her long lashes, she placed a dainty hand upon his arm. “Would it be too much to ask fer ye to see me to my room?”

“’Twould be my pleasure.” Rory offered his arm. Moira politely bid the table and those gathered in the hal good eve. Rory could feel the scrutiny of the many eyes upon his back as he left the hal . His clan was hopeful that he’d agree to the match and give them a fighting chance against the MacDonald. And Aileanna, he wondered, what was it he’d see in her eyes? More than curious, he glanced over his shoulder, but her gaze did not fol ow him. She was too busy listening to some tale his brother told. He cursed under his breath.

“Did ye say somethin’, Rory?” Moira enquired sweetly.

“Nay.” He looked down at the petite brunette at his side. She reminded him of Brianna in her nature, but she had her health and wouldn’t take to her bed as his wife had. The match would benefit his clan, of that he had no doubt, and they al but begged him to comply. It would be no hardship on his part. She was bonny and would know his LORD OF THE ISLES

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expectations, not question him or demand more than he was wil ing to give. Then why had he not yet signed his name to the contract?

They climbed the stairs in companionable silence until they reached the upper hal and his rooms. Moira stopped in front of his chamber door and ran her finger along its smooth planes. “This is yer chambers, Rory, is it no’?”

Something in the look she gave him made him uncom

fortable and he scrubbed a hand along the stubble on his jaw. “Aye.” He al but croaked the word out. She closed the distance between them and dropped her voice. “Would ye no’ like to show me yer rooms, Rory?”

She pressed her palm to his chest.

He gently removed her hand and said, “Nay, ’tis no’

proper, Moira.”

“Then place me in the room adjoinin’ ye and no one would have to ken. ’Twould be good fer us to spend some private time together, doona’ ye think?”

“I canna’ do that. Lady Aileanna already occupies the room.”

“The room beside yers— she resides there?” Her voice grew shril , her face pinched.

“Aye. It grows late, Moira. I’l see you to yer chambers,”

he said, his words clipped.

“Ye had best remove her from that room, Rory MacLeod, or I wil no’ al ow my brother to sign the be trothal papers. I wil na’ have ye sleepin’ with yer leman while I’m under the same roof.”

Rory bit back a sharp response until he got his anger under control. He took a firm hold of her elbow and guided her none too gently down the dimly lit corridor. As they were about to round the corner, he heard the rustle of silks and the resounding click of a door in the direction from whence they’d come. He knew who it was without looking and had no doubt she’d heard what Moira said. 128

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He came to an abrupt halt outside of Moira’s chambers and brought her around to face him. “Lady Aileanna is a lady, and I remind you to remember that. She saved my life and those of my clan. And, Moira, the papers have no’

been drawn up yet. It hasna’ been that long since I buried my wife and I’m no’ even certain I wish to take another.”

Her face crumpled. “I’m sorry, Rory.” She clasped his hand between hers, bringing it to her breast. “Please, for give me.”

He felt the soft, heated skin beneath his hand, the quick

ening of her heartbeat, and abruptly disengaged himself from her grasp. “’Tis forgotten. Good sleep, Lady Moira. I wil see you on the morrow.” His tone was curt. He couldn’t get away from her fast enough, angry at what she accused Aileanna of being, and what it would do to her reputation if Moira chose to spread her tales. The decision Moira now forced him to make fueled his anger. Once inside his chambers Rory hesitated before he strode to the door that adjoined the two rooms. He heard a crash. The wood shuddered beneath his hand. He wrenched it open, his gaze drawn to the overturned trunk and the brightly colored gowns that spil ed onto the floor. Aileanna stood by the bed with her back to him.