Debbie Mazzuca - Lord of the Isles

“She’d be havin’ her toilette seen to,” Mari said, hand

ing her the broom.

Ali beat the long banner. Clouds of dust bil owed in the air, making her cough. “Is that right?” She seethed as she pounded the cloth with renewed vigor.

The continuous loud thwack of the wooden broom hitting stone drowned out the sound of the men returning home. It was why when Rory’s deep voice cal ed out to her, Ali, who was lost in her own thoughts, forgot where she was and jumped. Losing her footing, she grabbed hold of the edge of the banner. The stool toppled over, leaving Ali to swing pre

cariously above the floor. The panicked cries of Mari and Mrs. Mac drowned out everyone but Rory. Rory’s heart slammed in his chest at the sight of Aileanna clinging to his clan’s colors. “Bloody hel , lass,” he yel ed, positioning himself beneath her. “What are you doin’?”

“What does it look like?” She glared down at him, her eyes flashing.

“Let go and I’l catch you.” He held up his arms, widen

ing his stance.

“No.” She jerked her head in the direction of the stool.

“Just put it back up.”

He sighed. “Aileanna, ’tis broken. Now do as I say and let 144

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go.” Rory didn’t have to cajole her further. The fabric gave way with a loud rip, and whether she liked it or not, Aileanna landed with a whoosh in his arms. If he could go by the look in her stormy blue eyes, she didn’t like it one bit.

“Rory, yer back,” a voice of pure femininity cal ed out breathlessly. When Rory turned with Aileanna in his arms, Moira’s sweet smile of welcome faltered. A degree of ici

ness frosted her manner. “What goes on here?”

He had barely set Aileanna on her feet when she strode toward Moira. “What’s going on here is everyone’s practi cal y kil ing themselves catering to your every whim. Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Do you?” Aileanna cried, her voice shril , an accusatory finger wagging in Moira’s pale face. Rory grabbed her arm. “That wil be enough, Aileanna.”

She whirled on him, jabbing her finger in his chest.

“Wil it? Is it enough that she practical y kil ed Cook de

manding a meal fit for a king, and in this heat?” Her chest heaved, and white-hot anger radiated off her. Moira sobbed into her hands and her delicate shoul

ders trembled. “Oh, Rory, I didna’ ken. I only meant to make ye proud.”

He looked from one woman to the other. Aileanna’s rage was barely contained. “You wil apologize to Lady Moira, Aileanna.” It was not right her going off on Moira like she did. The MacLeans were guests in his home, and Moira had obviously meant no harm.

had obviously meant no harm.

Aileanna narrowed her gaze on him. She picked up the broom from the floor and slammed it into his chest. “If you want an apology, do it yourself. And while you’re at it, you might want to do the rest of her bidding. That way you may have some servants left by morning.”

“Aileanna, you wil come back here and apologize,” he roared to her retreating back.

“Stuff it,” she yel ed at him as she marched up the stairs. Chapter 12

“Stuff it. She told me to stuff it. Do you ken the meanin’

of that?” Rory asked Fergus, who stood across from where he sat at his desk in the relative quiet of his study. His old friend shrugged, a glint of amusement in his eyes.

“I take it to mean she’s a wee bit fashed with you.”

“With me? The woman is daft, goin’ off on poor Moira like she did.”

Fergus crossed his arms over his chest and raised a bushy brow. Rory threw up his hands in disgust. “You canna’

mean to defend her. She goes too far. Even you who are bewitched by the lass have to admit ’tis so.”

“Aileanna’s a healer, lad, and was angry at the state of yer help. Did you no’ take note of the look of her? I’d say she fared no better than the rest.”

Rory leaned his elbows on his desk and rubbed his temples—he had. She’d been wet and filthy, a bedraggled mess, signs of weariness visible on her pale, drawn face. He had been concerned about her, more than he cared to admit, but before he could question her, Moira had entered the hal and Aileanna sprang into action like a crazed woman.

“What the hel went on here?”

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“Doona’ ask me, lad. Have you forgotten . . . I was with you?”

Rory glared, in no mood for humor. “Cal um!” he roared. Despite the closed door, he had no doubt the man was close enough to hear him.

Cal um entered and shut the door on the curious faces gathered outside. “You cal ed, my laird.” He fought back a grin.

“’Tis no time for jokes, Cal um. Now, tel me what went on to put Aileanna in such a state.”

The big man held Rory’s gaze. “She tried to see to some of the clan and they shunned her. Wouldna’ let her near them on account of Lady MacLean’s accusations in the hal this morn. I ken she was hurt by it, though she didna’

say much.”

A stab of guilt twisted in Rory’s gut at the thought she suffered on account of him. If he had not been busy pla cating Moira, he would have defended Aileanna himself and not left it to Fergus and Iain. The clan had obviously taken his silence to mean he concurred with Moira’s accu

sations. Moira’s sweetness reminded him more of his late wife than Aileanna, who so closely resembled her physi cal y, and he found himself trying to protect Moira as he had failed to protect Brianna. He cleared his throat. “And that was it?”

Cal um shrugged. “We met up with wee Jamie, takin’

himself off to join ye in the glen he was.”

Rory grunted. “Janet would no’ be pleased.”

“Nay, she wasna’. She’d been helpin’ Cook in the kitchens and Lady Aileanna offered to take her place so she could tend to the lad.”

Rory stared at the man, certain he misunderstood him.

“You canna’ mean to say she worked in the kitchens.”

“I ken it was what she intended on doin’. But I’m no’

certain Cook would let her past the door.”

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“I’m certain he wouldna’. Fergus send Iain to speak with Cook. He has a way with the mon.”

“I’l see to him myself. Iain is busy seein’ to Aileanna.”

The muscle in Rory’s jaw pulsated. His hands clenched into fists. The thought of his brother comforting Aileanna brought him to the edge of his control. Both men eyed him expectantly, as though they awaited an outburst, but he re fused to give them the satisfaction. He denied them the confirmation that she’d gotten under his skin, into his heart. He knew that’s what they thought. Fergus had said as much.

When Fergus opened the door to leave, Cyril and his cousin pushed past him. Fergus shot Rory a questioning look and he shook his head. Wel aware of what Cyril wanted, Rory thought it best Fergus was out of earshot.

“Rory, what do ye intend to do with that . . . that woman?”

Cyril demanded, waving his hands in a dramatic fashion.

“Doona’ worry, I’l deal with Aileanna in my own way. Now if you have nothin’ further to add, I need to speak to my housekeeper. Cal um, tel Mrs. Mac I’d like to have a word with her.” Cal um gave him a curt nod and went to do his bidding, leveling Cyril with a cold, hard stare before he left the study.

“Wel . . . wel , I never.” The man puffed up like a peacock.

“Yer household is in sore need of discipline if ye ask me.”

Rory reclined in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. “I didna’. Aidan, you look to be gearin’ up to give me a piece of yer mind. Why doona’ you get if off yer chest?”

“Nay, cousin, sittin’ back and enjoyin’ the wee show is al .” Aidan leaned against the book-lined shelf and grinned.