Debbie Mazzuca - Lord of the Isles

“I’l be fine, Iain, but I’m thinkin’ of goin’ to court fer a time. Mayhap I can do some good there fer Aidan and Lachlan, and it would no’ hurt our cause either.”

“Aye . . . aye, if that’s what you need to do.”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw the look his brother shared with Fergus. He ignored them. The emotional tur moil of coming home was taking its tol , and he was anx

ious for his bed.

He looked up to see Mrs. Mac cross the courtyard to greet them. She was flanked by Janet, Maureen, Mari, and old lady Cameron. The women looked none too happy. Rory sighed. It would be awhile before he saw his bed. He glanced at Fergus and Iain. “Bloody hel , what have we come home to?”

“I doona’ ken, but they look plenty fashed at you, lad,”

Fergus said, watching as the women drew near.

“Ladies, is there a problem?” They crossed their arms and glared at him. “Since I’ve just come home, I doona’

ken what I coulda’ done wrong.”

“Why did you no’ bring our lady home?”

Rory blanched, a tight pressure building in his chest.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Mac. I didna’ make it back in time.”

“Och, and what does that have to do with it? Al this time her bein’ at Armadale and no’ with us. ’Tis no’ right. Get yer horse and go and get her.”

The emotion was so thick in his throat he could barely 316

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get the words out. “Mrs. Mac, she’s no’ at Armadale.” He pul ed her aside and lowered his voice. “Did you no’ see the fairy flag? I had to send her back. I was too late to save her. There was no other way.”

Mrs. Mac ducked her head. “’Twas no’ the fairy flag you raised.”

Chapter 27

Ali sat up in bed, clamping a hand over her mouth. “Not again,” she groaned into her palm. The wave of nausea passed, and she flopped onto the down-fil ed pil ows. A long, drawn-out creak drew her attention, and she cracked one eye open to see her aunt peek around the door.

“Oh, poppet, yer il again this morn.” Fiona swept into the room. Her royal blue silk skirts swished over the stone floor as she made her way to Ali’s bedside, a look of concern in her kind eyes. “Mayhap we should have someone see to ye. I havena’ said a word to yer father. I didna’ want to worry him, ye ken, and ye always perk up by midday, but real y, my pet, this has gone on too long.” The bed dipped when she sat to stroke the hair from Ali’s clammy forehead.

“Aunt Fiona, I think you’ve forgotten I am a doctor. I’m quite capable of seeing to my own care, more competent than most of the heal . . . oh, good Lord.” Maybe not so competent after al . Ali felt like giving herself a couple of knocks on the head, but didn’t, afraid it wouldn’t have the desired effect. Instead of knocking some sense into her, she’d probably throw up—again.

How stupid could she be? Pregnant. She was pregnant. It certainly explained why she’d been so tired of late. A 318

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symptom she’d ascribed to lack of sleep when she’d been too afraid to close her eyes in case the fairies stole her away. Missing her period and her overwrought emotions, she’d put down to stress—stress and missing Rory.

“What is it, Aileanna? Is it serious, poppet?” Her aunt’s eyes fil ed and she twisted her hands in her lap. Ali drew Fiona into a reassuring hug. In the few short weeks she’d been at Armadale her aunt had loved and cared for her like a mother. “No, it’s nothing. I mean, it’s not nothing, it’s just that, wel , I’m pregnant.” Ali gri maced, not sure how her aunt would take the news. Lying back, Ali rested her hand on her stil flat stomach. She smiled, fil ed with an excited bubble of wonder and joy. She was having a baby—Rory’s baby. A man she hadn’t seen in weeks. A tiny bit of her happiness dissi

pated. He hadn’t responded to her letters and the little nig

gling of doubt was getting harder to ignore. Fiona’s mouth dropped. “A bairn . . . yer havin’ a bairn?”

Ali chewed on her bottom lip. “Umhmm. Rory’s baby.”

“Laird MacLeod. Of course—good, that’s good.” Her aunt’s brow furrowed and she tapped a finger on her lightlylined cheek. “Wel , there’s no time to waste, then,” she said after a moment of silence, flipping the covers off Ali. Ali arched a brow. “If you don’t mind, Auntie, it might be best if I lie here for a little longer.”

“Oh, of course, I didna’ think. I’m sorry, poppet.” She patted the coverlet into place and resumed her seat. “Now,

’tis most important we get in touch with Laird MacLeod.”

Ali sighed. “I tried. As soon as I knew the fairies’ magic wasn’t going to work I sent him a letter—more than one actual y. He hasn’t responded, and it’s been a couple of weeks now.” Trying to ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, Ali plucked at the satin comforter. Fiona’s brow furrowed. “I didna’ ken ye sent a letter. Did yer father?”

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Ali nodded. “I didn’t know how to send it without his help.” And Alasdair had fought her tooth and nail, until the tears. When Ali had begun to cry, he gave in. Her usual y mild-mannered aunt cursed under her breath. “That mon, sometimes I’d like to shake him. Aileanna, I doubt verra much yer father sent yer missive. He’s no’ relented aboot yer seein’ the MacLeod, no matter what he’s led ye to believe. ’Tis what the gatherin’ this night is aboot. There are plenty of potential suitors on the guest list.”

Ali groaned. “Aunt Fiona, you have to make him stop. The only man I want is Rory, and that’s not going to change, especial y now.” She patted her stomach to make her point.

“I’ve tried, but he’s a stubborn old goat. ’Tis like talkin’

to a wal —a big, thick one.” Her aunt gestured just how thick with her hands. “Mayhap ’twould be best if ye doona’

mention the bairn.”

“I didn’t plan on tel ing either the father or the grandfa

ther, at least not for a while.”

“I understand ye no’ tel in’ yer father. He’s liable to cal the lad out, but why would ye no’ be tel in’ Laird MacLeod?”

Ali rol ed her eyes. “Thanks for that comforting thought, Auntie. As for Rory, I refuse to let him marry me just because I’m having his baby. And as soon as he finds out, that’s exactly what he’l expect. Not that there’s much chance he’l find out anytime soon.” She sat up and hugged her knees to her chest. “He must know I’m here, Aunt Fiona. I’m worried he’s having second thoughts about us, that he regrets using the clan’s last wish, espe cial y since it didn’t work.” There was something else, something she herself had a difficult time thinking about. How would Rory feel when he found out he was in love with his late wife’s sister?

Her aunt smoothed Ali’s hair over her shoulder. “That’s 320

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nonsense, and ye ken it as wel as I do. From what ye’ve told me, the lad loves ye, and I ken ye love him. Which leaves me to wonder why ye’d no’ want him to marry ye even if it was on account of the bairn.”

Ali released a frustrated breath. “Auntie, I’ve told you before. I’l not have Rory MacLeod marry me out of a sense of duty. I want him to marry me because he loves me, because he doesn’t want to live without me. And I won’t have him bul y me into it, which is exactly what he’d do if he found out I was pregnant.”

Fiona chuckled and patted her knee. “Wel , poppet, I’d say we have our work cut out fer us.”

Ali blinked back tears at the sight of her father and aunt waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs. The look of love and the pride in their eyes made her heart swel . In the short time she’d been with them, she’d come to love them both dearly.