Debbie Mazzuca - Lord of the Isles

“There’s only one thing I want, but you and I both know it can’t happen. We weren’t meant to be.” She gave him a sad smile. “But there is something you can do for me that wil make it easier for me to leave.”

“What would that be?”

Her gaze was intent as she held his. “You have to prom

ise me, if anyone comes to you with a complaint against Moira, you’l listen. And that you won’t give her control over Dunvegan when you’re away from home. She—”

“I ken Mrs. Mac and Fergus have their reservations, but you doona’ ken her, Aileanna. She means wel . She but tries to please me.”

Her skepticism was evident in the look she gave him.

“Please, just give me your promise. You’re a man of your word, and al I ask is you give it to me on this.”

He sighed, shaking his head. “Aye . . . aye, I wil do as you ask.”

The sound of men’s voices in the courtyard drew his at

tention and he said, “’Tis time, mo chridhe.”

She reached up on the tips of her toes to brush her soft lips over his. “Good-bye, Rory. Be happy and stay wel ,”

she said against his mouth.

He threaded his fingers through her long hair to cradle her head and gaze into her beautiful blue eyes. Rory had never wanted anything as badly as he wanted Aileanna. He yearned to deepen the gentle kiss, ravage her mouth and mark her as his, but he couldn’t, not without causing both of them more heartache.

“Good-bye, mo chridhe.”

With difficulty he stepped away from her, and together they crossed the courtyard. The night was stil , the men’s LORD OF THE ISLES

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voices fading off into the distance, the only sound the clicking of Aileanna’s heels as they struck the stone. He reached out to assist her on the steps, but she shook her head without looking at him. As he pushed the doors open the ache in his chest grew, and he hoped al were abed. His hopes were dashed when Mrs. Mac, Fergus, and Iain rushed into the entranceway, fol owed by Cyril, Moira, and Aidan, who gave him a knowing look.

“Och, now, Lady Aileanna, you’ve been cryin’. What has that big oaf done to you?” Mrs. Mac cried, scowling at him. She drew Aileanna into her protective embrace. Fergus and Iain took a threatening step toward him.

“No more than she deserves, I’d imagine,” Moira said, smiling like a cat that’d swal owed a wee warbler. “And ye wil na’ speak to yer laird in that manner, Mrs. Macpherson.”

Rory was about to intervene, not wanting the tension to escalate, but Mrs. Mac didn’t give him a chance. “Och, and I’l speak to him any way I please. I’ve been doin’ so since he was in nappies, and you’l no’ be tel in’ me different.”

Moira’s incensed gaze shot to Mrs. Mac and Aileanna, and then back to Rory, as though she waited for him to ex plain, or at least intercede on her behalf, but it was Aileanna who took it upon herself to defuse the situation. Once she managed to extricate herself from Mrs. Mac, she said, “I was out for a walk and tripped. Lord MacLeod came to my rescue, nothing more. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to go to bed.”

“Good sleep, Aileanna,” Rory said to her retreating back. He clenched his hands at his sides lest he reach out to her. Her eyes met his over her shoulder. “To you, too, Lord MacLeod. To you, too.” Her voice was low and husky. Mrs. Mac sniffed. “My apologies, Laird MacLeod, and my thanks fer yer assistin’ my lady.” She turned on her heel and hurried after Aileanna.

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Fergus’s and Iain’s thunderous expressions relaxed, but the MacLeans were none too pleasant to look upon.

“Ye were alone with . . . that woman?” Moira shrieked.

“Now, poppet, he came to her rescue is al ,” her brother soothed. Giving Rory a pointed look over her head, he added, “I’m certain my sister wil no’ be so sensitive once the papers have been signed.”

“’Twil be done on the morrow. Now if you wil excuse me, I wish to retire fer the evenin’.” Ignoring Fergus, Iain, and his cousin’s looks of astonishment, he walked away without another word.

Ali’s muscles strained and burned as she and Connor, under Mrs. Mac’s unrelenting supervision, moved another piece of heavy furniture. They deposited the trunk beneath the floral tapestry the older woman had appropriated from another room. Ali straightened and kneaded her lower back. “Are we done now?”

“Och, you doona’ need to be so prickly, my lady. Doona’ you think yer chambers look bonny?”

“Fit for a princess.” They were. Mrs. Mac had deter

mined Ali’s new accommodations would be better than the ones she’d been forced to leave, and Ali didn’t have the heart to tel her it wasn’t necessary. She wouldn’t be there much longer. She couldn’t be, not after last night.

“Or lady of the keep.” Mrs. Mac smiled smugly. Ali’s eyes widened. “Are you tel ing me we’ve been breaking our backs readying the room for Lady MacLean?”

Mrs. Mac rol ed her eyes. “Nay.”

Ali sighed. “Mrs. Mac, he’s marrying her whether you like it or not. They’re signing the papers today.”

“Curious thing, that. The papers have gone missin’.”

Wide-eyed, Ali watched as the older woman sauntered toward the door, a self-satisfied smile on her lips. She LORD OF THE ISLES

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shook her head. No matter what Mrs. Mac had done, the union would go ahead. Rory would not let anything stand in the way of him protecting his clan.

“Connor, I’l send Mari up so you doona’ need to go lookin’ fer her. She was givin’ me a hand with the other rooms,”

Mrs. Mac said as she closed the door behind her. Connor bent over the trunk, making a show of rearrang ing it, his ears pink. “I wasna’ lookin’ fer her. I doona’ ken why Mrs. Mac said such a thin’,” he muttered in a disgrun tled voice.

Ali bit back a smile. “I’m sure Mrs. Mac knows that, but, Connor, I’m glad you’re watching out for Mari. You’ve been a good friend to her.” Knowing Mari was wel looked after made it easier for Ali to leave, and leaving must now be her only focus. She couldn’t remain at Dunvegan any longer. If she did, her heart would never recover. At the rate you’re going, you might not have much of a choice, the voice in her head reminded her. Ali sat down heavily on the edge of the four-poster bed. It was true. She hadn’t gotten any information about the location of the fairy flag from Iain. Not that she’d pushed very hard. Mrs. Mac had been only too happy to inform her that Rory and Iain had almost come to blows over her. Ali was resigned to find another way. She wouldn’t cause a rift between the brothers. What she needed was someone who wouldn’t suspect what she was up to. A resounding thud caused the mattress to bounce.

“Connor, what on earth—” Connor—of course. “Here, let me help you.” She hopped off the bed and righted the smal table he’d knocked over.

Patting a chair, she said, “Come and have a rest.” Ali pul ed up a stool and sat across from him. “You’re a big help, Connor. Lord MacLeod must be glad to have you with him.”

The boy shrugged. “I suppose.”

“I’m sure he is. How long have you been at Dunvegan?”

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He furrowed his brow. “Since I was a wee lad, a verra long time.”

“You have a lot of responsibility for someone so young. Lord MacLeod places a great deal of trust in you.”

“I’m no’ so young, my lady. I’m sixteen.”

She grinned. “You’re right, you’re very old.” Pausing, Ali concentrated on pul ing her features into a pensive ex pression.

“My lady, are ye no’ feelin’ wel ?”