Debbie Mazzuca - Lord of the Isles

marry us until I get dispensation from the pope. If ’tis im

portant to you, I wil , but ’twil take some time. I ken this may sound odd to you, but al it takes for us to be legal y wed is fer us to agree that we are. We have witnesses.” He nodded toward her father and her aunt. “Although even that is no’ necessary. This one, here”—he flattened his palm to her stomach, a heated look in his eyes—“is the only one we truly need.”

Ali drew her gaze to Alasdair and Fiona, who stood to

gether a few feet away. “Is this true?”

Her aunt gave her a watery smile. “Aye, ’tis how many are wed in the highlands, poppet. ’Tis legal.”

Her father’s mouth opened as though he planned to argue the point, grunting when Fiona elbowed him. He turned on her aunt. “Woman, what has gotten into ye?” He rubbed his

LORD OF THE ISLES

335

stomach then looked at Ali, his expression softening. “Aye, my pet, yer now wed to . . . to him .”

“Oh.” She looked up at Rory. “We’re married?”

Rory laughed. “Aye.” He turned to her father and aunt.

“And if ye doona’ mind, I’m takin’ my wife to her cham

bers. She needs her rest.” With that said, he swung Ali into his arms and strode from the salon, leaving her aunt chuckling and her father sputtering behind them.

“I have a feelin’ I’l pay fer that on the morrow,” Rory said wryly. “Where’s yer chambers, love?”

“In the East Wing, fourth door on the left.” Ali waved her hand in the direction of her room. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she snuggled closer.

Rory groaned.

She lifted her head. “Am I too heavy?”

He snorted. “Nay, yer room is too far.” He quieted her re

sponse with a hard kiss that had her squirming in his arms. Breaking their kiss at the sound of feminine giggles, Rory growled at the two young maids. The girls squealed and ran in the opposite direction. Ali laughed. “You’re fierce, Lord MacLeod.”

“Aye, and you best remember it. Now, please, tel me this is yer room.”

She looked up. “It is.”

“Thank God. You’l have to open the door. My hands are ful at the moment.”

Ali rol ed her eyes and lifted the latch. Once they were inside, Rory kicked the door closed. He laid her on the bed, stretching out beside her. His eyes drifted shut, and he released a contented sigh. Ali raised herself up on her elbow and pressed her palm to the dark shadow that lined his jaw. “You’re exhausted.”

He brought her hand to his lips. “Aye.” Rol ing onto his side, he nudged her onto her back. “But I’d have to be dead no’ to be able to show you how much I missed you.”

336

Debbie Mazzuca

She trailed the tips of her fingers along his cheek. “I think you should let me take care of you, Lord MacLeod. After al , I am the doctor in the family, and I know just what you need.”

Rory grinned. “You do, do you?” His expression turned serious. “Aileanna, yer al I’l ever need. I love you.” He slid his lips back and forth over hers, then kissed her thor

oughly, deeply, in a slow and possessive kiss. He cradled her head with one hand while the other traced along the edge of her necklace.

Ali sucked in a ragged breath when feather-light fingers dipped beneath the neckline of her gown, stroking her breasts. He lifted his mouth from hers. “I think ’tis time to rid you of some clothes.” His voice was deep and husky. Placing a palm on his chest, Ali pushed him onto his back. Coming up on her knees, she knelt beside him.

“Funny, that’s exactly what I was thinking.”

Ali leaned over and tugged the soft leather boots from his feet, tossing them beside the bed. She ran her hand up his leg, over his hip, stroking him beneath the waistband of his pants. The hard muscles of his stomach rippled. Ali pushed his shirt aside, dipping her head to trail her tongue over his lightly bronzed skin. Rory sucked in a harsh breath. “Doona’ tease me, love. I’ve been too long without you.”

He didn’t look amused when Ali chuckled. “Patience, my lord,” she said as she tugged his pants over his hips, raising a brow at his lack of underwear. Seeing her expression, Rory shrugged. “’Twas bad enough I had to borrow his trews and tunic. I bloody wel wasna’ goin’ to borrow the old goat’s braies.”

Ali fought back a smile. “Rory, that’s my father you’re referring to.”

“Aye, doona’ remind me,” he grumbled, raising his hips so Ali could relieve him of his pants while he shrugged out LORD OF THE ISLES

337

of his shirt. His powerful, naked body, golden skin stretched tight over rippling muscles, was a feast for the eyes. A feast she was only too happy to partake of. Ali ran the tip of her finger along his jutting erection. His long, thick shaft twitched, and he groaned. “The priest was right—yer a witch,” he growled.

“Hey.” She twined her fingers in his chest hair and tugged lightly.

“Rough, too, but I like it.” Rory grinned. Reaching for her, he hauled her within easy reach of his nimble fingers and unclasped her necklace, tossing it on the bedside table. He worked at the hooks of her gown. Seconds later, he had her bared to the waist. “You must have had a lot of prac

tice to be able to get me out . . . ah.” She moaned when he reached up to cup her breasts, sucking one nipple and then the other into his hot, wet mouth.

She let out a startled cry when he tossed her onto her back. He lifted his head and winced. “I’m sorry, did I hurt you, love?”

Ali slowly shook her head from side to side, as anxious for him to be rid of her clothes as he was. Rory tugged her gown over her hips, then froze. Searching her face, he shoved his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry, Aileanna—

the bairn, I forgot.”

He caressed her bel y, then dipped his head to drop a soft kiss there. The muscles in her stomach contracted. Her core grew slick and hot with need. With one last gentle pat to her bel y, he dropped onto his back, an arm over his eyes, his breathing ragged.

Ali struggled out of the rest of her clothes and came onto her knees beside him. She lifted his arm from his eyes. He cracked one eye open. “You can’t be serious?”

she muttered.

“I doona’ want to hurt you or the bairn. We can’t . . .” He waved his hand at their naked bodies. 338

Debbie Mazzuca

His eyes widened when Ali straddled him. She brought her face within inches of his. “Rory MacLeod, I am strong and healthy. So is our baby. Trust me—not making love to me at this moment is much more harmful to my health, and that is definitely not good for the baby.”

His eyes searched hers. A slow smile curved his ful lips. “We canna’ have that, now can we?” He threaded his fingers through her hair and brought her mouth to his. “Yer certain?”

“Positive,” she murmured before she nibbled the corner of his mouth, sweeping the tip of her tongue over his lips, tasting the smooth, rich flavor of whiskey. She delved inside the moist heat to thrust and parry with his tongue. With her kiss, she showed him how much she loved him, how much she needed him. Rory groaned and wrapped her in his arms. “You canna’

ken how much I’ve missed you, missed this.”

Ali blinked back tears. She didn’t want to cry, not now. Raw emotions simmered too close to the surface, and she could only nod her agreement.

She eased out of his arms. “Now it’s my turn to take care of you.” Her voice deepened with desire. Rory’s eyes darkened. “Whatever you say, my love.”

His long, hard erection jerked against her. Ali leaned forward with her hands pressed to his broad chest and slid up and down his shaft.