Debbie Mazzuca - Lord of the Isles

LORD OF THE ISLES

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Only when he felt her tremble did he reluctantly ease back, his breathing harsh, hers the same. “Yer cold.”

Her eyes searched his face as though memorizing every detail. He winced, realizing what he must look like, what he must smel like.

“I’m sorry, mo chridhe. We’d just returned from Lewis and I rode straight to Armadale. I ken I doona’ smel par ticularly fine at the moment.”

She grinned and wrinkled her nose. He laughed and kissed the turned-up tip before he ran his hands down her arms and held her out from him. “I’m goin’ to ruin yer bonny gown.” Aileanna slid her arms around his neck, clos ing the space between them to bury her face in his chest.

“I don’t care. My God, Rory, I thought I’d never see you again.” Her lips brushed his chil ed skin, and then her shoulders shook, her tears dampening the front of his tunic.

“Shh, love, doona’ cry,” he crooned, stroking her silken tresses. “I’m here now. I’l never leave you again.”

She tipped her chin and gazed up at him. He wiped her tears away with his thumbs and smiled down at her. “I thought I’d lost you forever, Aileanna. It wasn’t until I came back from Lewis that I learned you were here, that the magick didna’ work.”

Fresh tears trickled down her cheeks. “I was so scared, Rory. I kept waiting for the magic to happen, waiting for it to take me away from you, from everyone.”

The look of anguish in her face tore at every fiber of his being. “You have to believe me, mo chridhe, I never would have raised the flag if I’d thought there was any other way. I couldn’t let you die. I—”

She shook her head and pressed two fingers to his mouth. “I know.” Her lips curved in a gentle smile. “I know you felt you had no other choice. I understood what the decision cost you. How difficult it was for you to use the clan’s last wish, and I loved you for that.”

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He gave her a fierce kiss. “I couldna’ do anythin’ but. I love you, Aileanna, ye must ken that.”

She touched his cheek. “I do. I love you, too.” A shadow darkened her luminous blue eyes. “But I don’t understand why I’m stil here. Why the magic didn’t work.”

He gave her a wry grin, and brushed a strand of hair from her face. “Mrs. Mac. She didna’ want to risk you findin’ the flag and leavin’ us. She switched the silk. It was no’ the real flag I raised that day.”

Aileanna sagged against him. “I wish I had known.”

He cradled her head against his chest. “You and me both, my love,” he murmured. She threaded her fingers through his hair and brought his mouth back to hers. Her kiss was achingly sweet.

“Get yer filthy paws off my daughter, MacLeod.” Mac

Donald’s angry words crackled in the stil ness of the night. Rory’s head whipped up. Lost in Aileanna, he had no warning of the other man’s presence, and he cursed his inattention.

Aileanna groaned. She squeezed Rory’s hand. “Let me handle this.”

He shook his head, looking past her to the older man who stood on the garden path. “Nay, this is between me and MacDonald.” He gently placed her out of harm’s way, ignoring her protests. In four angry strides, MacDonald closed the distance between them. “Yer no’ welcome here. Get off my lands, MacLeod.”

“’Twil be my pleasure, but I wil na’ leave without Aileanna.”

“Over my dead body. I’l no’ give ye another of my daughters after what ye did to the last.”

Rory heard Aileanna gasp.

“I did everything in my power to save Brianna and you bloody wel ken it. As fer Aileanna—”

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“Ye’l no’ have her,” the man bel owed. “Ye godforsaken MacLeods and yer bloody flag took her from me the first time. Ye’l no’ be takin’ her from me again.” He thumped Rory in the chest with his fist. Anger hazed his vision and Rory thumped him back, going toe-to-toe with the raving lunatic before him. “She’s mine, and no’ you or anyone else wil keep her from me.”

“She’s no’ yers, she’s mine, and I’l no’ see her wed to ye. I’ve got men inside, good men, better than the likes of ye, beggin’ fer her hand.”

Heat blasted through Rory. He fisted his hands, the temp

tation to hit the man overwhelming. “Ye canna’ promise her to another. We’re as good as wed. She’s been in my bed.”

Aileanna’s outraged gasp pierced his temper and he cursed, turning to apologize to her. Smack.

The MacDonald’s powerful fist glanced off Rory’s cheek, hitting him square in the eye. Rory stumbled. His battlehoned reflexes took over and he planted his fist in the MacDonald’s eye. With a bel ow of rage, the older man charged him, and the two of them landed in a prickly bush. Pummeling each other, they rol ed off the bush and onto the hard ground.

“Stop it, stop it!” Aileanna’s pained cry froze their fists in midair. Rory lowered his hand and rol ed onto his back, as did the MacDonald. The two of them stared wide-eyed at the glorious angel who looked down at them—a very angry angel. Her stormy blue eyes flashed, and Rory winced at the string of curse words coming out of her innocent-looking mouth.

“Aileanna!” came the MacDonald’s shocked response.

“Doona’Aileanna me. Bloodthirsty highlanders, the two of ye. Doona’ think either of ye have a say over me. I’l decide who and when I wed. And ye can wipe that sil y grin off yer face, MacLeod. I didna’ say I was marryin’ ye.”

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When the MacDonald chortled gleeful y, she shook her finger at him. “And ye, paradin’ yer merry band of suitors before me. I’l no’ wed any of them, and I can tel ye they’l no’ want to wed me, a woman who carries the MacLeod’s bairn.”

She cursed. Pivoting on her heel, she stormed from the gardens, leaving them lying in stunned silence on the frozen ground.

Chapter 28

The sure-footed old goat managed to get to his feet before Rory did. But Rory imagined it had less to do with agility, and more to do with the fact that he stil reeled from the emotions Aileanna’s sharp tongue elicited. Despite her anger, the memory of her thick brogue brought a smile to his face. The knowledge he was to be a father warmed his heart with a depth of emotion he’d thought only Aileanna could cause him to feel. But her stub born unwil ingness to wed him was a punch to his gut more debilitating than the one the MacDonald had delivered. Once Rory managed to get to his feet, he rushed to catch up to the old man. They reached the door to the keep at the same time, jostling each other for entry. Their shoulders squeezed together as they tried to get through the door. Rory grunted, took a step back and shoved the old goat inside. Fol owing him through the dimly lit corridor, he matched the MacDonald stride for stride when he saw Aileanna speaking to an older woman at the foot of the stairs. Bathed in the warm glow of torchlight, she took his breath away. She no longer wore her mantle and Rory drew his gaze from where the large ruby glinted between the generous hol ow of her creamy white breasts. If he hadn’t, 330

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the evidence of how much he wanted her would be visible to anyone who cared to look.

“Aileanna, we need to talk.” Rory barely managed to keep his frustration in check.

“Aileanna, ye and I have much to discuss,” the MacDon

ald said pointedly, giving Rory a little shove. She regarded them with a haughty stare. “I’m not in the mood.” She tossed her hair and headed up the stairs. The delectable sway of her backside left Rory fighting the urge to throw her over his shoulder and make off with her into the night.