Debbie Mazzuca - Lord of the Isles

Fiona held her gaze with a gentle confidence.

“They won because yer mother and ye went missin’, Aileanna. I was too busy searchin’ fer ye to lead my men into battle.”

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“’Twas over twenty-seven years ago, Aileanna. How old are ye?” Fiona asked.

“Twenty . . . I’l be twenty-eight on my birthday.”

Alasdair pul ed her from the chair and folded her into his warm, protective embrace. “Aileanna, ye can doubt it no longer. I’l no’ let you go, my pet. They’l no’ take ye from me.”

Fiona and Alasdair were right. There was no denying the facts. The MacLeods’ fairy flag had stolen Ali and her mother from their home over twenty-seven years ago, only to return Ali on the day Iain raised the flag to save Rory. It was true, al of it. She had a father, a family, and she didn’t know what she’d do if the fairy magic took her away from them again.

“I don’t want to leave, Alasdair. I can’t tel you how much I want to stay. How can I go back when everyone I love is here?” Dear God, please don’t let them take me. I don’t think I could bear it. He cupped her face between his hands and gently wiped her tears away with his thumbs. “Shh, yer no’ goin’ any where, and ye’l cal me Alasdair no more. Ye’l cal me father from now on, or da, whichever ye prefer.”

Fiona gave an unladylike snort, swiping at her own tears. “And at times ye’l cal him an old goat like I do.”

Ali laughed, then hiccupped. “That’s what Rory cal s him.”

A wave of intense pain arched through her body at the thought of Rory. She wanted nothing more than to go to him, but didn’t have the strength to be ripped from his arms. It hadn’t taken her long to come to the realization Rory raised the flag to save her. And she wouldn’t make him suffer with the knowledge there’d been no need for him to do so. She’d managed to save herself. Although in the end, her father’s presence had swayed the sheriff more than she ever 312

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could. In his attempt to save her life, Rory had destroyed their one chance for happiness.

“That one has a lot to answer fer, and the first question wil be what possessed him to raise the bloody flag in the first place. A man who professes to love ye then sends ye away to be lost to him forever,” Alasdair growled, tighten ing his hold on her.

“’Tis because he loves her, Alasdair. Mayhap he thought

’twas the only way to save her. Did ye no’ say it was the last wish, Aileanna, and he’d no’ send ye back because it was al his clan had left?” Fiona went on, not giving Ali a chance to respond. “I’d say the mon loves yer daughter above al else, wouldna’ ye, Alasdair?”

He muttered something under his breath before he kissed Ali on the forehead. “Yer aunt wil show ye to yer chambers. Ye need yer rest, fer this night we celebrate my daughter’s return.” His eyes wel ed, and Ali’s heart ached as she tried to imagine how he felt. He might have her back, but he’d lost his wife, and now, after finding Ali, he could turn around and she’d be gone again. But for now, she’d put the thought from her mind, and let them both enjoy what little time they had left together. Rory stood in the grand hal at Lewis and begrudgingly accepted the mug of ale his brother offered him, but re

fused to take a seat with them by the fire. Aidan released a weary sigh. “I ken yer in a bad way, cousin, but ye canna’

solve anythin’ by stayin’ here and fightin’ like a mon possessed.”

“I’m no’ in a bad way, and I thought by fightin’ the ad

venturers I was helpin’ you save yer home.” Rory scowled at him.

“Brother, ’tis time fer us to leave. Aidan and Lachlan can handle those that survived, without our help. The men LORD OF THE ISLES

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are anxious to return to Dunvegan and their families.” Iain eyed him warily. “I miss her too, Rory. I ken no’ as much as you, but I do miss her,” he finished quietly. Rory glared at Iain, angry he talked of her. Since the day he had returned to Lewis after raising the fairy flag, he had al owed no mention of her in his presence. The pain hadn’t subsided. If anything, it grew worse. Like a piece of him was being cut away each and every day, and soon there would be nothing left of him. The last place he wanted to be was Dunvegan, where the memories of her were bound to taunt and torture him.

His cousin Lachlan watched him careful y. Chewing on his bottom lip, he shot his brother Aidan a worried glance. The lad was the youngest of the MacLeods, but one day he would surpass them al in height and strength. “Rory, did ye think mayhap there was a way to contact the fairies and ask them to return yer lady to ye?”

With barely contained rage, Aidan glared at his brother.

“Are ye daft, Lan? The fairy flag was passed to the MacLeods centuries ago. ’Tis a myth, is al .”

“’Tis no myth. The fairies exist,” the lad mumbled, shifting uncomfortably on the bench.

“Have ye gone mad, brother?” Aidan was angrier than Rory had ever seen him and he laid a hand on his cousin’s shoulder to calm him. Although he knew better than anyone that the flag was no myth, he had a hard time believing the fairies stil existed in this time. But he wouldn’t hurt the lad’s feelings by saying so. For a fleeting moment he wanted to hold on to Lan’s belief, but was quick to brush it aside as foolishness. The only magick that existed was in the flag, and without another wish, he had nothing. Lan flushed crimson. “I ken they do. I’ve heard them.”

“When, Lan? When did you hear them?” Rory heard the desperation in his own voice, a slippery thread of excitement 314

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that vanished as soon as he saw the look of disbelief in the eyes of Fergus, Aidan, and Iain.

“When I was a bairn I heard them. They came to me in my dreams.” Lan flushed to the roots of his fair hair. His forehead beaded with sweat. Rory felt sorry for the lad. The only reason his cousin had made mention of the fairies was to offer Rory some hope, risking ridicule to do so. Aidan slammed his hand on the arm of his chair. “’Tis the old crone that looked after ye when ye were a bairn that turned yer head. No more talk of fairies, brother, or I’l lock ye away.”

“You send fer me if he does, Lan, and I’l bring you back to Dunvegan with me. I appreciate yer tel in’ me aboot the fairies. If you hear them again, be sure to make mention of . . .” He hesitated, not certain he could say her name aloud without unleashing the emotions he’d locked away. He swal owed hard. “Aileanna.” He ruffled his young cousin’s hair when he nodded shyly. Rory looked at Fergus. “Tel the men we leave on the morrow.”

Rory bowed his head as the boats approached the shores of Dunvegan, unable to look upon the flag that fluttered on top of the tower. Emotions warred within him, and he bat

tled an urge to set sail in the opposite direction, but he couldn’t—not yet. The excited chatter of his men grew the closer they got to Dunvegan. Rory felt a twinge of guilt for keeping them away as long as he had. It hadn’t been warranted. They could’ve returned weeks ago, and he should’ve sent Fergus and Iain back to Dunvegan with the men. But they refused to leave him, too afraid he’d go too far in battle, risk too much. Maybe they were right. Maybe he would have.

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“Are you al right, brother?” Iain asked from where he sat in the boat behind Rory. Both Iain and Fergus had cut him a wide berth on the way back. He didn’t blame them. He wasn’t fit for company. A sorry lot they must have looked as they left the boats on shore and walked along the path to the keep. Lord knew they should be bel owing out their triumph. They’d pushed the adventurers back to lick their wounds, and the MacLeods had lost no one to the enemy’s swords.