Debbie Mazzuca - Lord of the Isles

posed to him. She felt naked and vulnerable, and she’d promised never to let herself feel that way with him again.

“Shh, ’tis al right, mo chridhe. I wil na’ hurt you.”

She gave a short, bitter laugh, wincing as she rol ed over to face him. Ali pressed her hands to his chest in an at tempt to push him away. “No, I won’t let you do this to me. Not again. Do you remember what you said to me, Rory?

Because I know I’l never forget.”

He cupped her face between his roughened palms. “Aye, I remember. I was angry, angrier than I’ve ever been before. Can you no’ understand what I felt?”

“What about me? I loved you. You’re marrying another woman and I have to let you go, and not because I want to, but because I have no choice. Those damn fairies didn’t give me a choice and neither did you.”

He kissed the tears from her cheeks. “I do love you, Aileanna, and I’m no’ marryin’ Moira. I wil na’ go through with the betrothal, no’ now.”

“Don’t . . . don’t lie to me. Lust isn’t love —that’s what you said, didn’t you? I won’t come second to anyone, Rory, not even your dead wife. I deserve more.”

He gave her a slight shake. “Stop. Why wil you no’ try to understand? Aye, I desire you as I never have another, including Brianna. But I do love you, Aileanna, more than I should. And I canna’ let you go. I wil na’ let you go.” A hard edge crept into his deep voice.

His words penetrated the anger and the hurt. She searched his face. “Did you just say you aren’t marrying Moira?”

“Aye, ’tis what I said,” he growled.

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She hesitated before she asked, “And you love me?” She lowered her eyes and her cheeks flushed. “As much as you loved your wife?” Her voice was whisper soft.

“The love I feel fer you is no’ the same as my love fer Brianna. How can it be when yer no’ the same woman?

Canna’ you understand that?” He was angry now. She could hear it in his voice.

“Aye, I can.”

He blinked, then grinned. “I’l make a Scot of you yet, mo chridhe.” His eyes darkened. “But now al I want is to make you mine.”

Chapter 17

Rory’s low, gravel y voice, and the heated words he whispered against her ear, triggered a frisson of desire that left Ali weak and trembling. Heavy-lidded, passion-fil ed emerald eyes sought hers before he lowered his mouth. But the fierceness of his kiss brought with it the unwanted memories of the last time he had her at his mercy. As though sensing her withdrawal, he drew back, his gaze searching. “What is it, mo chridhe?”

She shook her head and tangled her fingers in his thick black hair, forcing his mouth to hers in an attempt to push the memories aside, and the words he’d earlier tried to ex

plain away.

“Nay, Aileanna, you wil tel me what it is,” he said, re

fusing to let her coax him back to passion. Ali’s hand fel to her side, and she lay back amongst the pil ows. Catching her lower lip between her teeth, she scanned the dimly lit room. “I keep thinking about the other night, and what you said to me. I—”

“I apologized, Aileanna, fer my words and actions.”

Frustration laced Rory’s voice.

She swal owed hard and lifted her gaze to his. “I know, but I’m having a difficult time getting past it. I stil don’t 206

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understand why you didn’t believe me.” Torn between the desire to be embraced by the heat of his powerful body and needing distance from it, she careful y rol ed to her side.

“Mayhap because you had the flag in yer hands, and you didna’ tel me the truth.”

“And you know why.” The pil ow muffled her voice.

“Aye.” He lifted the heavy fal of her hair and pressed a tender kiss to her neck. “I do. There’s no more I can say to you, Aileanna, other than I’m sorry. Mayhap ’tis too soon.” The thin strap of the shift slipped from her shoul der, and his hot mouth moved down the curve of her neck to taste her there. “I want you, mo chridhe, but I’l wait.”

His body tight to hers, she could feel the evidence of his desire, big and hard, pressed to the back of her thigh. Her breath shuddered as he emblazoned a fiery path of kisses along her spine. The feel of his tongue dipping into the two dimples at the smal of her back made her squirm. The shift gaped wider, and the strap slid farther down her arm. With a practiced hand, he slipped his fingers be

neath the thin fabric, trailing them along the curve of her waist to her hip. “Do you want me to stop?” His deep voice vibrated against her heated flesh. Ali’s breathing quickened, desire unfurling in her bel y.

“Yes . . . no, don’t stop,” she whimpered as his long fingers tweaked her puckered nipple. Rory gently rol ed her to her back, amusement glinted in his green eyes, and his mouth lifted at the corner in a knowing grin. “Are you certain?” he asked as he lowered the flimsy material inch by torturous inch, exposing her breasts ful y to his gaze. He devoured her with a heated look as he laved first one nipple and then the other. She arched her back, pressing her breasts to his lips, wanting him to suckle her deep into his hot, wet mouth. His laugh was low and husky. “That brings back a memory of the first time you were in my bed, mo chridhe.”

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Irritation penetrated the passion-fil ed haze that engulfed her. When she glared at him, he laughed harder. “If you were any kind of gentleman, Rory MacLeod, you wouldn’t remind me of that night, especial y since you now know how it came about.”

“Aileanna, have I no’ told you I’m no gentleman when it comes to you. And I’m thinkin’ I should thank the fairies fer deliverin’ you to me naked.”

“That wasn’t the fairies’ doing, it was yours. You had my T-shirt off of me the minute I landed in your bed.” Heat tingled between her thighs at the memory, at the feel of him beside her.

“T-shirt? I doona’ ken what that is, but I ken I want you naked in my bed now.” Propping himself on an elbow, he skimmed his hand to the edge of her shift and slowly worked it over her hips, her breasts. She helped him as she had that first night, her arms trembling with eagerness as she raised them over her head. When she lay naked before him, he sucked in an appreciative breath. Ali’s cheeks heated as his intense gaze raked over her, and she tugged at the sheets to cover herself. He stopped her. “Nay, let me look at you.” He stroked his big, strong hand over her breasts to her bel y, the heat of his palm searing her to her core, fanning her desire. She had to see him—al of him—and ran her fingers along the front of his shirt. “It’s your turn now,” she mur mured as she tugged at the laces, revealing his broad, pow

erful y muscled chest. Trailing a finger along the puckered line of his scar, she lowered her head and pressed her lips to the mark she’d left on him. The banded muscles of his stomach contracted beneath her gentle kiss.

“Aileanna,” he groaned as her fingers moved lower to the thick bulge in his pants. “Are you certain yer no’ too sore?

What aboot yer foot?”

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pants, she barely registered his concern. Only when he took her hand to press her palm to his lips did she look up. He drew away from her to sit on the edge of the bed. She groaned in frustration. “What are you doing?”

Rory laughed as he tugged off his boots, dropping them to the floor. “I’m no’ leavin’ you, lass, of that you can be certain. I thought I might make a faster go of sheddin’ my clothes is al .” He stood, towering over her, the flickering flame of the candle accentuating the chiseled planes of his face. Rory looked terrifyingly big and powerful as he shrugged out of his shirt and tossed it onto the trunk at the end of the bed. Mesmerized, she watched as he peeled off his pants. He was huge and hard, and her experience was limited. It had been important for her to wait until the right man came along. She thought she had. There had been only Drew, but he was nothing compared to Rory. She regretted not having waited, because the only man who would ever be right for her stood before her now in al his rugged, naked glory. Entranced by his beauty, Ali couldn’t pul her eyes away, not until she heard a low rumble of laughter. She lifted her gaze to his, and his emerald eyes gleamed with amuse ment. Ali grabbed a pil ow and threw it at him. “You’re so ful of yourself.”