Debbie Mazzuca - Lord of the Isles

She kicked off the wal to swing in midair, slamming back into the unforgiving stone. Ali groaned, but there was no time to waste moaning over the dul throb in her back. She’d spent the last few days watching the guards’ routine and knew there wasn’t a moment to spare before the next one came on shift.

A sense of desperation played havoc with her courage. She pushed it aside and used the last of her strength to give one final push. Legs flailing, she dropped with a dul thud to the roof below. Her knees scraped on the rough tiles, shredding her gown. She tried to grab hold of the peaked roofline, but missed, and slid down the roof. Crying out in frustration, she kicked her feet until the toe of her shoe dug into a crevice between the tiles. Ali sucked in a breath and dove for the chimney, wrapping her arms around it. She

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stifled a startled cry when a large blackbird dive-bombed her and she waved a hand to shoo it away. Ali pul ed herself up until she sat tucked securely be

tween the roof and chimney. Battered fingers trembling, she unraveled the linen rope from her waist. She threw it around one side of the chimney and grabbed it as it came around the other, tying a knot she prayed would hold. Once more she descended. With only a few more feet to freedom, she began to relax. A door slammed and Ali froze, clinging to the rope, her feet dangled high above the ground. She held her breath, slowly releasing it when no one and no other sound fol owed. With the rope wound between her legs, she lowered herself farther. Her head jerked up when she heard a slow tearing sound. Panicked, she looked down at the twelve-foot drop. The rope shredded. She fel to the ground with no hope of breaking her fal . Thud. Ali moaned, scrambling awkwardly to her feet. She sti

fled a cry of pain when she put weight on her right foot. She tried to rotate her ankle; it wasn’t broken, but she wouldn’t get far on her own. She wrinkled her nose. Bessie. She scanned the deserted courtyard, then hobbled toward the stables. Mauve and pink streaked the azure sky and Ali quickened her pace, anxious to put some distance between her and Dunvegan before the sun came up.

“How did she come by a dagger?” Rory bel owed, yank

ing on the linen rope that hung outside the window. Cal um shuffled from one foot to the other, his face flushed. “’Twas me, Laird MacLeod. I gave it to her on the day Lady MacLean accused her of bein’ a spy.”

“Bloody hel ,” Rory cursed, tossing the rope to the floor. He ran his hand through his hair. She would be the death of him. But despite his anger, he couldn’t help but 190

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admire her bravery, her ingenuity. The woman was amaz

ing. Too bad she was a spy.

He lifted his gaze from the cot and met the look of con

demnation in the eyes of Mrs. Mac, Fergus, and Iain. His temper flared. “Doona’ give me that look. ’Twas no’ be cause of me she did this.”

“Nay? It was no’ her who locked herself in the tower and half starved herself to death.”

“In case you’ve forgotten, brother, the woman’s a spy. And I didna’ starve her. She was just too stubborn to eat.”

Byron and Cedric entered the room, shamefaced.

“There’s no sign of her, my laird, but the lads in the stable say old Bessie is missin’.”

He met his brother’s gaze and they both let out a shout of laughter. Relief surged through Rory. He would get her back, but more importantly, she wasn’t hurt. It had been his worst fear when he’d been cal ed to the tower. The guards had said nothing, simply pointed to the barless window. Rory ful y expected to see her broken body lying on the ground below, and nothing had prepared him for the terror he felt. No matter that she betrayed him; he stil had not managed to purge her from his heart. “’Twil no’ be difficult pickin’ up her trail if she’s even made it off Dunvegan land.”

“I’l bring her home,” Fergus and Iain offered in unison.

“Nay, I’l go.”

He strode from the room, leveling his brother with a hard stare when Iain cal ed out to him, “You wil na’ hurt her, Rory.”

Rory picked up Aileanna’s trail easily enough once he realized she had not headed to MacDonald land after al . He assumed whoever she was in contact with must have arranged a meeting place closer to Dunvegan. Coming upon horse and rider in the glen, he eased back on the reins. Hidden within a cluster of pines, he patted the black’s pow LORD OF THE ISLES

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erful neck. “We’l stay and watch for a bit, Lucifer. See who the lass meets up with.”

He bit back a smile when she delicately tapped the mare’s flanks. Bessie didn’t budge. Holding on to Bessie’s mane, Aileanna bounced up and down several times. The horse snorted, and she threw up her arms in frustration. Rory watched in amusement as she awkwardly slid from the mare. But his amusement faded when he saw her hobble forward to cajole her horse. She’d been hurt. He dug his heels in Lucifer’s sides and left the shelter of the pines. Each time Aileanna urged the horse on with a tentative pat to her flank, Bessie would take a step back. The lass lost more ground than she gained. She gave a muffled groan and sunk to the heather-covered ground, drawing her knees to her chest. Bessie nudged her, nickering.

“Don’t try to be nice now—it won’t work,” he heard her grumble.

“You shouldna’ be fashed with her. She made it much farther than I expected she would,” Rory commented dryly.

“You!” she gasped, turning to look up at him. “How did you find me?”

“’Twas no’ hard.” He dismounted and came to stand over her. “I’ve come to take you back to Dunvegan.”

A hopeful light appeared in her eyes. “You believe me now?”

“That yer no’ a spy? Nay, I doona’ believe that.” He wished he could.

“Then I’m not going anywhere with you.” She lowered her forehead to her knees.

“And where would you be plannin’ on goin’, lass?”

“I don’t know.” She mumbled the words into her gown.

“Then you might as wel come home with me,” he said quietly. She was exhausted, beaten down, and it bothered him more than it should.

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“Why? So you can lock me away again, starve me, tor

ture me?” Her voice was weak, but angry. He shook his head. “You’ve no’ been starved or tortured.”

She snorted and tossed her head.

“You sound like yer horse.”

She narrowed her gaze on him. “Go away.”

He ignored her, leaning over to scoop her into his arms. She gave an affronted cry and struggled, kicking her feet.

“Ouch.” Tears sprang to her eyes.

“Be stil , Aileanna. You’l only cause yerself more pain, and I’l no’ let you go.” He placed her on Lucifer’s back.

“Doona’ move. He’s no’ as tame as Bessie,” he warned her as he put the bridle he’d brought with him onto Bessie. Swinging himself onto his horse, he wrapped an arm around her and felt her stiffen. They traveled in silence, and she slowly relaxed against him. Rory battled his body’s response to her, fought the urge to bury his face in her heatherscented, silky hair, to fil his hands with the weight of her ful breasts. Even reminding himself of her betrayal was of little help, and he hoped she did not feel him harden beneath the curve of her behind. Upon hearing the soft sounds of her snoring, he gave a relieved chuckle. Rory took the long way back to Dunvegan in an attempt to avoid as many of the clan as he could. Anger against Aileanna ran high. Only the morning before he had been confronted by an angry mob seeking vengeance. Old lady Cameron had been quick to shout them down. To Rory’s surprise, Cook and several of the serving girls, along with Janet, Jamie, and the Chisholms came to Aileanna’s de fense, giving him and the others the same tal tale Fergus and Iain tried to feed him. Obviously awaiting his return, Mrs. Mac, Fergus, Iain, and Connor hurried toward him as he entered the courtyard.