Debbie Mazzuca - Lord of the Isles

Debbie Mazzuca

“I didn’t mean to disturb you. I . . . I lost my ring.” She careful y showed him her right hand, leaving the left behind her back. “On the night you were wounded. I . . . I thought it might be here.”

“Show me both of yer hands, Aileanna.” He closed the distance between them in three long strides, but did not come close enough to touch her, afraid of what he’d do if he did.

“I—” She bowed her head and choked back a sob.

“Please believe me, it’s not what you think, Rory,” she pleaded, bringing her hand from behind her back to reveal the flag, clutched in her fist.

Her betrayal felt like a blow, fast and hard to his gut, and Rory sucked in a pained breath. “You wil give it to me now,”

he grated between clenched teeth, holding out his hand. With a look of anguish on her bonny face, she said, “I can’t. I’m sorry, but I can’t.” She held the flag tight to her chest, covering the silk with both of her hands.

“Never before have I hurt a woman, Aileanna, but if you doona’ give me the flag, I make no promises I won’t.”

Her eyes darted to the door and he grabbed her. His fin

gers bit into the delicate bones of her wrists. She cried out, and her knees buckled.

“Drop it,” he said harshly.

Her hands opened and the flag slipped to nestle in the deep val ey of her breasts. He jerked her hands behind her back and encircled her wrists with one hand while he retrieved the flag with the other.

“They chose you wel , mo chridhe,” he rasped against her ear, feeling the heat of her skin beneath the silk. His breathing grew ragged and his fingers lingered, stroking the tops of her ful and heaving breasts. “How far would you have gone, Aileanna?” He shoved his hand into the bodice of her gown and rol ed her nipple roughly be tween his thumb and finger.

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“Rory, no, it’s not what you think.” She gasped when he kneaded and squeezed her breast.

“Yer a spy. Doona’ try to deny it, and before this night is out you wil tel me al ,” he ground out. She leaned her head against his shoulder in an attempt to look back at him, her chest heaving. “Rory, you have to believe me, I’m not a spy. I can’t tel you anything.”

He dragged his hand from her breast. Letting go of her wrists, he threw her onto the bed. She fel face first, and the mattress bounced and squeaked from the force of her land

ing. He was on top of her before she could catch her breath. Flipping her onto her back, he straddled her, anchoring her arms over her head.

“Please, don’t do this. I know what it looks like, but it’s not . . . it’s not what you think.” She struggled, her hips arched beneath him, and despite his anger, his disgust with himself and with her, his cock hardened. With her hair spread across the dark brown coverlet, the rapid rise and fal of her voluptuous breasts, she was pure temptation.

“Aye, they knew what they were doin’ when they sent you, lass. They would ken I wouldna’ be able to resist you.”

He spat the words at her.

“Why won’t you listen to me? I’m not a spy. I know you’re angry, but please, just think. Why would I save you and your men’s lives, if I was?” A lone tear slid across her cheek and into her hair. He tried not to consider her words in the same way he tried to ignore his lingering doubts, to forget about her loy alty to those who were close to him, her fierce protective

ness. Like her actions at the loch, she had al but convinced him she cared for him as much as he cared for her, but now he knew she but played him for a fool.

“Then why, Aileanna, why did you steal the flag?”

“I wasn’t stealing it. I only wanted to—” She shook her head, eyes closed. “I can’t, Rory. I made a promise.”

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“Even to save yerself ?”

Her eyes blinked open. “You wouldn’t kil me. I thought you loved me,” she whispered.

“Love, Aileanna? Nay, yer mistaken. I spoke of lust and desire. And only that because you reminded me of Bri anna. But you canna’ hold a candle to her.” His laughter was cruel, his words intended to wound her as deeply as she wounded him.

Her head jerked as though he’d slapped her. Color leached from her face. “What . . . what are you going to do with me?”

He saw the fear in her eyes along with the pain his words caused, but he hardened his heart against it and low ered his face to hers. “Mayhap I should take what you so readily offered that first night I was too weak to accept.”

Before she could turn her head he captured her mouth with his, forcing his tongue past her lips, ravaging her, devour ing her. She twisted beneath him and he ground his cock into her. She bit his tongue. He wrenched his lips from hers. The metal ic taste of blood fil ed his mouth.

“If you take me now, Rory MacLeod, it wil be rape,”

she panted, her face flushed, her eyes the same shade of violet as her gown. Her words penetrated his lust-addled brain, past the anger and the pain, and stopped him cold. He flung himself away from her and strode to the door. He ripped it open, nearly tearing it from the hinges. “Byron and Cedric!” He bel owed for his men-at-arms. Rory leaned against the doorframe for support, watching as Aidan, Fergus, and Iain pounded up the staircase after the men.

“What’s the matter, Rory?” his brother asked, moving Byron and Cedric aside. Rory stepped back, al owing his brother a clear view of Aileanna, her knees tucked to her chin as she sat huddled at the head of the bed. Iain grabbed his arm. “Sweet Jesu’, what have you done to her? If you’ve harmed her, I swear to God—”

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Rory slammed him against the wal , fisting his hand in Iain’s tunic. “’Tis no’ I. She’s a spy . . . a thief. I caught her attempting to steal the fairy flag.”

His brother’s eyes shot to Aileanna and he shook Rory off to make his way to her side. “Why, Aileanna?”

Slowly she lifted her head from her knees. Holding his brother’s gaze, she shook her head. Rory almost felt sorry for Iain, for the hurt he saw in his eyes. “What wil you do with her?” his brother asked, dragging his gaze from hers.

“Put her under guard in the tower until she talks.”

Iain helped her from the bed, and Rory noted the change in her. She no longer looked haunted, beaten down. She held her head high and walked by him with a haughty grace that caused him to add, “She’l have no food or drink until she does.”

She held his gaze, her mouth swol en from his kiss. He jerked his head and the guards took hold of her. Mrs. Mac, Connor, Fergus, and Iain watched her being led away. They al wore the same expression of betrayal. Her attempt to steal the clan’s treasure was nothing compared to what she’d done to their hearts.

“Byron, Cedric, hold. I have one question mayhap you will answer, Aileanna Graham, if that is who you are.”

She raised her eyes to his.

“Who betrayed the clan? How did you ken where the fairy flag was?”

“No one betrayed you,” she said wearily. “I’ve been looking for the flag since the night I arrived. Your room was the last one I had to check, and I’d been searching it for days. The boards sounded hol ow when I tapped on them. That’s the only way I knew where it was.”

Rory heard a feminine gasp at his back. “I told ye, Rory, I told ye. I knew she was a spy.” Moira clapped her hands gleeful y. When she reached his side, she placed a 184

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proprietary hand on his arm. “Ye wil na’ be so high and mighty when ye feel the lash open the skin on yer back,”

she taunted Aileanna.