Debbie Mazzuca - Lord of the Isles

’Tis my findin’ that Lady Aileanna Graham is inn—”

“Nay . . . nay.” A young dark-haired man pushed his way through the crowd. “I saw it with my own eyes. She brought a wee lad back from the dead. He’d drowned in the loch.”

Ali closed her eyes. Now how was she supposed to ex

plain that?

“She’s no witch. She’s an angel. Saved my son, she did.”

Janet Cameron’s cries were drowned out by the sound of

LORD OF THE ISLES

301

horses’ hooves pounding on the hard-packed earth. The ground shook beneath Ali’s feet. Dust bil owed and choked the onlookers.

When the cloud cleared, she looked up to see Alasdair MacDonald. Like an avenging angel, he urged his white steed forward. The people fel over themselves to get out of his way. At least a hundred men rode with him—fierce, angry men.

“Are ye al right, my pet?” he asked.

Ali nodded. Bemused relief washed over her.

“What is it ye charge my daughter with?”

“Yer daughter? I didna’ ken she was yer daughter, Laird MacDonald.”

“Speak, mon! What are the charges?”

“Wi . . . witchcraft, my lord.”

“Yer chargin’ my daughter with witchcraft?” he bel

lowed, bringing his horse within snorting distance.

“Nay . . . nay, they are.” The sheriff stumbled backward, pointing to Moira and the priest. “But . . . but I was just about to declare her innocence when this lad says she brought a child back to life.”

“Aileanna?” Alasdair raised a brow.

She gave a frantic shake of her head. “He wasn’t dead. He swal owed a lot of water and the loch brought his body temperature down too low, that’s al .”

“I saw her. She blew into his mouth.”

“Yes, of course I did. I had to replace the air he’d been deprived of. I’ve seen it done before.”

“My daughter is a healer. She’s no witch, and if I hear another spout lies against her, they’l answer to me.” He reached for Aileanna’s hand and pul ed her onto the back of his horse. “Do ye declare my daughter innocent?”

The sheriff ’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. “Aye, my lord, aye.”

Alasdair brought his horse around to face Moira and 302

Debbie Mazzuca

the priest. “I warn ye, doona’ ever threaten my daughter again or ye’l be verra sorry ye did.” Color drained from their faces. “Fire the stake,” Alasdair roared. “And make certain I see no other raised in its place.”

Those that had come from Dunvegan cheered, rushing toward Ali. “We’l see you at the keep then, my lady,” Mrs. Mac said with tears in her eyes.

After returning their happy smiles and good wishes, Ali slumped against Alasdair’s broad back, too weary to do anything but. “Yer safe, my pet, yer safe.” He patted her leg. Rory leapt from the boat, leaving the men that accompa nied him to pul it onto the rocky shore. Soaked through to his skin from rain and sweat, but he barely noticed, too intent on rescuing Aileanna. They’d crossed The Minch in the middle of the night, thankful for the winds at their back. Racing along the path to the courtyard, Rory cal ed out to the men on the parapet. “I need four of you to accom pany me to the vil age.”

If his men were surprised to see him, they didn’t show it. Cedric shot him a sympathetic look. “We wil na’ make it, my laird. The trial is already underway.”

“Nay, I wil make it on time. There’s a chance she’l be proven innocent.”

Byron shook his head. “It doesna’ look good, my lord. I ken she’s innocent, but after Jamie’s accident . . .” The man gave a helpless shrug of his shoulders.

“What . . . what happened?” Connor had been so ex

hausted on his arrival at Lewis that Rory had been unable to get more than a few words from him.

“The lad drowned in the loch. He was dead, my lord, I swear it, and yet she brought him back to life.”

“The lad drowned in the loch. He was dead, my lord, I swear it, and yet she brought him back to life.”

Rory had never felt more helpless than he did at that moment. He raged inwardly at his inability to save her, LORD OF THE ISLES

303

to protect her. With evidence such as that, there was no question in his mind she’d be found guilty. Heart pound ing, he raced for the keep before it was too late. He knew what had to be done. There were no other options available to him. He couldn’t al ow her to die.

Rory threw the door to his study open and pul ed the books from the shelf to get at the secret compartment behind them. His hand shook as he withdrew the fairy flag. Closing his eyes, he clenched the piece of silk in his fist and slammed it into the wal . The books from the shelf above crashed at his feet. Rory took the stairs to the tower two at a time, knowing he had no choice but to use the clan’s last wish. Al he could think of was Aileanna. He had to save her. His chest grew so tight he thought it would explode. His throat ached from choking back the emotion, the pain of losing her. A rush of cold air whipped at the flag as he raised it.

“Good-bye, mo chridhe, my love.”

Rory strode from the keep. “Back to the boat,” he barked at the men who awaited his command in the courtyard. As they prepared to set sail for Lewis, Rory took one last look at Dunvegan and the fairy flag on the tower fluttering in the wind. She was lost to him forever, and he cursed the fairy flag and the superstitious fools who had forced his hand. Haunted by images of Aileanna—her beautiful face, her laughter and her strength—he wanted to be as far away from everything that meant anything to him as he could get. He’d lost the only woman he truly loved. And not even Dunvegan or thoughts of his clan offered him peace.

Chapter 26

As the distance between Ali and the vil age grew, the tension inside her eased. Exhausted, she clung to Alasdair.

“’Twil no’ be long, lass, and I’l have ye back at the keep.”

Ali smiled, raising her head as the tower of Dunvegan beckoned in the distance. A cream colored piece of fabric fluttered at the very top. Ali gasped. No, it can’t be! She rubbed her eyes, praying she was mistaken. She held her breath as once more she raised her gaze to the tower. Her heart shattered. Rory had raised the fairy flag. Her breath came in short panicked gasps and spots dotted her vision. A prickly heat flooded her limbs and she clutched at Alasdair’s shirt to keep from fal ing off the horse. How could he do this to her? How could he send her back to a place she no longer cal ed home, to no one, to nothing?

Alasdair, as though sensing her distress, twisted in the saddle to look back at her. “Aileanna, what is it? What’s wrong?”

“Take me to Armadale with you, Alasdair. Please,” she choked out on an anguished sob.

“Aye, my pet, whatever ye wish.” He took one last look at her before he waved his men on. “We ride fer Armadale.”

The men cheered. The raw beauty of the landscape 306

Debbie Mazzuca

blurred before her eyes. Ali didn’t know how long it would take for the fairy magic to work, but she couldn’t be at Dunvegan when it did. To spend whatever time she had left surrounded by the people she loved, only to disappear, would be unbearable. They were lost to her forever.

“Wake up, lass, we’re home. There sits Armadale.” Alas

dair pointed proudly to the fairy-tale castle perched on a sloping hil with a loch below. Ali shook off the last remnants of sleep, glancing at her hands and the landscape to reassure herself the flag’s magic hadn’t worked—at least not yet. “It’s beautiful,” she final y managed to croak. The horses clomped across the cobblestoned courtyard. Servants rushed to greet them. Noting Ali’s presence, they held back, their jaws dropping in open astonishment. A lovely looking woman, her auburn hair lightly streaked with gray, stepped through the massive oak doors with a warm smile on her face. Catching sight of Ali, she clapped a hand to her mouth. Her cry of dismay brought several servants to her side. Alasdair sighed. “That would be Fiona, my wife’s sister. After Anna left with the babe she remained to care for Brianna.”