Debbie Mazzuca - Lord of the Isles

His jaw hardened. “If no’ fer him my daughter would be alive.”

“What are you saying? Rory would never have hurt his wife, not intentional y. He tried to do whatever he could to save her.” She touched his big hand. “Her death and the baby’s stil affect him. I saw it not long ago when I helped a woman with her delivery. He hasn’t gotten over it, Lord MacDonald. He stil feels guilty.”

“Aye, and so he should. My daughter was no’ strong from birth. ’Twas her sister who was the strong one.” A gentle smile curved his lips, fading when he continued.

“He shouldna’ have forced her to have a bairn. Him and his godforsaken clan wanted a babe to carry on the MacLeod name. He could’ve left it to his brother.”

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Heat rushed to Ali’s face. She didn’t want to have this conversation with Brianna’s father, but no matter how un comfortable it made her, she would. If there was even the slightest chance she could change the course of the feud, she’d take it. “Have you ever stopped to consider that your daughter knew her time was short and wanted to give Rory something to remember her by?”

He turned away from her, his voice gruff when he asked, “Why would ye think that?”

“I’m a healer, Lord MacDonald, and it’s been my expe

rience that sometimes people have a sense of their impend

ing death. I don’t know al there is to know about your daughter’s medical history, but if this was a condition she had since birth, then you were blessed to have her as long as you did. You must have taken wonderful care of her.”

He swiped at his eyes. “When I lost her mother and her wee sister she was al I had left.”

“She was very lucky to have you. I envy her that.” She gave him a watery smile.

“We’re a pair, aren’t we?” He squeezed her hand. “Ye bed down in my tent and we’l talk on the morrow.”

“Lord MacDonald, would you send a message to Rory and tel him I’m safe here with you?”

“Aye, at first light. Ye ken I’l no use ye in the feud, lass. I’l no’ have ye suffer. But . . .” He hesitated, watching her closely. “Ye’d be welcomed at Armadale by me and my clan if after the battle ye wish to return home with me.”

“Thank you. Is it because I remind you of your daugh

ter?” she asked quietly. It was ridiculous, but she hoped not. Ever since coming to Dunvegan she’d been compared to Brianna, and grew weary of being wanted only because she so closely resembled someone they had al once loved.

“Aye, ye do remind me of her. Although I ken yer no’

like her, ye’ve lightened my heart this night and I thank ye

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fer that. Ye canna’ blame an old man fer wantin’ to keep ye around, now ken ye?”

“If you and the MacLeods weren’t feuding, maybe we could visit one another.”

He quirked a brow. “I knew where ye were headed al along, lass. I just didna’ ken how long it would take ye to get there. In that yer like my wife. She hated the constant feudin’. ’Tis why I think she left me that night, takin’ my other daughter and runnin’ off. If Brianna wasna’ so sickly as a bairn, I’m certain she would’ve taken her as wel .”

“You never found them?”

“Nay. Searched for years until I realized ’twas hurtin’

Brianna.”

“I’m sorry.” She squeezed his hand.

“Sleep wel , my pet. On the morrow we’l talk.” He laughed when she gave him a hopeful smile.

“I’m no’ makin’ any promises.”

Chapter 22

Rory sagged with relief in his chair, handing the parch

ment across the desk to his brother. “He has Aileanna, says she’s wel , but he wil return her only when he’s satisfied she’s rested.” She was coming back to him. Rory didn’t know when he’d ever been happier. Without her it was like the light had gone from his life.

He had lain in her bed, breathing in her scent. Sleep had eluded him as he battled his demons. Torn by the needs of his clan, he had feared what demands the MacDonald would make of him for her safe return, only to find there were none. Rory was certain the reason the old goat backed off was that Aileanna reminded him of his daughter.

“Sounds like the MacDonald has taken a special inter

est in yer lady.” His cousin grinned. “Ye best be careful he doesna’ steal her away from ye. The ladies are al atwit ter when he’s at court. Consider him to be a handsome old bugger, they do.”

He scowled at Aidan. “She has the look of his daughter,

’tis al it is.”

“Do we hold off readyin’ the men?” Iain interrupted.

“Aye, we hold. I want to be here when Aileanna is re

turned.”

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“Fergus, Iain, are ye no’ surprised Himself wants to be here to greet his lady? Imagine, the great warrior would rather keep the home fires burnin’ and see to his woman than lead his men into battle. We’d best be certain the men doona’ get wind of this,” Aidan quipped. His laughter faded when he met Rory’s gaze. “I’m teasin’, cousin. I fer one would think yer daft if ye went ridin’ off without seein’ to her first.” Aidan shook his head. Placing his two hands on the desk, he leaned toward Rory. “Can ye no’ let it go, cousin? Yer no’ yer father. There’s no better laird than ye, but ye deserve a life and doona’ ye dare let that lass suffer because of yer foolish notions.” Aidan slammed his fist against the polished wood, then left the study.

“He’s right, Rory. I ken yer worries. Doona’ ferget, I lived them, too. I doona’ carry the weight of yer responsi bilities, but I do understand, and mayhap you wil let me shoulder some of the load. I may no’ be the man you are, but I am a man,” his brother said quietly, walking away before Rory could think of something to say.

“Bloody hel , what just happened here?” Rory grum

bled. Leaning back in his chair, he rubbed the stubble along his jaw.

“We al desire the same thing, lad. We want to see you happy, truly happy, and we ken Aileanna is the one to do that fer you. We doona’ want you to mess it up is al .”

Rory rol ed his eyes. “I canna’ mess it up. I love her. She kens that.”

Fergus grinned. “She does, does she? How are yer weddin’

plans comin’ along?”

“Go tel Mrs. Mac and Mari the good news,” he mut

tered, waving his friend from the study. Ali crawled from the tent and met a grinning Lord Mac Donald. He crouched at her side. “Are ye havin’ a bit of trouble, lass?”

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“I feel like I’ve been run over by a car . . . cart,” she quickly amended.

“Here, let me help ye.” He looped a strong arm around her waist and pul ed her to her feet. “I’l bring ye down to the loch and ye can clean up a bit.” He held up the bundle he carried in his other arm. “I have everythin’ ye need. I’m certain ye have no wish to get back into yer own things.”

Ali shook her head and smiled. “Definitely not.” She looked out over the campsite to the men mil ing about.

“Where’s Connor?”

“Over with some of the other lads. Doona’ fret. I told him to have a care fer a day or two. He has quite the bump on his noggin.”

“He does. Is Gordie gone?”

“Aye, hightailed it out of here at first light, along with the messenger. Now here’s some linens and soap. No one wil bother ye, lass.” He unsheathed his sword with a smile. “I’d no’ al ow it. I’l be over there.” He pointed out a large boulder just beyond the edge of the loch.

“Thank you.” Ali hobbled along the black sand beach until she found a secluded spot behind a cluster of rocks and low shrubbery. She shrugged out of her filthy gown and underclothes, leaving them in a heap in the brush. The cool, clear water lapped gently over her, taking some of the ache along with it. Her thoughts went to Rory and she wished he was with her, holding her in his arms. She missed him, more than she thought possible. The knowl edge she would soon be back with him was heartening, but only if she didn’t think of how little time they’d have to gether before he left her for the battle. Closing her eyes, she tried to block out the gory images that haunted her.