Gordie looked at her, eyes popping out of his head.
"Wil you bring us to Lord MacDonald, please." She added a soft lilt to her voice, surprised it came as natural y as it did. She couldn't afford to be turned away. If she was, Gordie would probably kil them both for her lies. And Rory, Iain, and Fergus, men that she loved, didn't stand a chance against an army this size. Both men reached up to help her from her mount. Gordie was quick to dismount and ease Connor to the ground. Ali thanked the men, coming around to Connor's side. "Do ye ken what yer aboot, Lady Aileanna?" he whispered.
"Aye." Her eyes met his, and he grinned. They passed smal clusters of men gathered around the campfires. Their conversations ended the moment they saw Ali. They looked at her as though they'd seen a ghost. She was, at least to them--the ghost of Brianna MacDonald. As they approached a large tent, one of the men rushed forward. "My laird . . . Laird MacDonald." He tapped on the canvas.
"What are ye disturbin' me fer now?" The flap flipped open and a gray-haired man unfolded his large frame. Piercing blue eyes set in a handsome, aristocratic face stared back at her. The man let out an anguished cry and fel to his knees, clutching his chest. "Brianna." Chapter 21
Rory glanced up from the battle plans he, Aidan, Iain, and Fergus charted. "Mrs. Mac, sorry we've missed the evenin'meal havena'--?" The anxious look in her eyes brought him up short. He laid his quil on the desk. "What is it?"
She twisted her apron in her hands. "'Tis Lady Aileanna. She's no' in her room. I havena' seen her al day."
A smile lifted the corner of his mouth as he thought of Aileanna's earlier threat. "She'l no' stay away much longer. Daylight's fadin' fast. Doona' fret, Mrs. Mac, Cal um and Connor are with her. Mayhap she spent the day with Mau reen."
The older woman gave him an odd look, obviously wondering at his lack of concern. "Nay, I asked Robert and he says she was with Maureen early this morn and has no'been seen since. And she sent Cal um back with wee Jamie, told him to keep an eye on the MacLean, she did."
Rory tried to ignore the knot of unease in his gut.
"We've been at this long enough." He pushed back his chair. "The three of you get somethin' to eat and I'l look fer Aileanna." And when he found her, she'd learn he was none too happy with her wee game.
"Nay, I'm goin' with you," his brother said, a look of concern in his eyes. "She shouldna' be roamin' around on that foot of hers."
"Aye, I ken that, but she'd no' listen. She's a stubborn wench." He sounded defensive, but his brother seemed to suggest Rory didn't concern himself enough with Aileanna's welfare.
Aidan clapped him on the shoulder. "I think I'l keep ye company. The lass is always good fer a laugh."
Rory didn't have to wait for Fergus to offer his assistance. The man was already out the door, muttering as how he'd warm her arse if she'd gotten herself in a fix. If Rory's worries weren't getting the better of him, he'd have laughed. He combed the area around the loch while the others searched the keep and questioned anyone they came upon. When they met back in the courtyard the sun had set, dusk closing in on them. The three men shook their heads at the question in his eyes and he saw his own growing fear reflected in his brother's.
Mrs. Mac and Mari waited anxiously for them on the steps to the keep. "You didna' find them?"
"Nay." He turned to the men at his back. "Gather as many as you can and we'l search the woods around the Chisholms'. It was the last place anyone had seen them. We'l need the torches," he said, scanning familiar shad ows that now seemed sinister. He struggled to slow the pounding in his chest and gather his control before the others realized the panic that al but consumed him. Whereare you, Aileanna? he silently asked, as though their bond was strong enough no words needed to be spoken. She would hear him, and lead him to her side. He could sense her before she came into a room, aware of her presence from a distance. Why then did he not feel her now? He would not let himself consider the reason.
"What's happened?" Cal um joined him as Fergus, Iain, and Aidan arrived with torches and more men.
"'Tis Aileanna. She's missin'," Rory said tightly. His anger at the man for leaving her with only Connor was tempered by his knowledge of Aileanna and how difficult she could be when her mind was made up. Cal um bel owed a curse. "I shouldna' have listened to her. I didna' want to leave her, but she seemed more concerned I keep watch over the MacLean after we crossed paths."
"Crossed paths? Did he do somethin' to make her feel he was a danger to her?" He heard Fergus and Iain mutter ing at his back.
"Nay, a few words is al , but his companions were unsavory, to say the least."
"Bring MacLean to me," Rory yel ed over his shoulder.
"The man is in his cups. Best we look fer yer lady now and have someone see to him while we're aboot it," his cousin suggested.
Aileanna's and Connor's names echoed in the stil ness of the damp night air. As they approached the Chisholms', there was stil no sign of them, no answering response. Cal um and Aidan accompanied Rory to question Mau reen and Robert.
"Doona' tel me she's yet to be found?" Maureen placed a hand to her mouth, eyes wide with worry. Rory shook his head, watching as spheres of light danced in the smal copse of trees to the left of the cottage.
"Did she say where she was headed, Maureen?"
"Nay, I told her she'd be wastin' her time seein' to the others. A bunch of fools if ye ask me, and if one of them has done her harm . . . I'l . . ." Her soft brown eyes fil ed with tears.
Robert wrapped an arm around his wife and kissed the top of her head. "She's verra fond of yer lady."
"I ken she values yer friendship as wel , Maureen, and I thank you fer givin' it to her." He heard his brother cal out to him and cut his questioning short.
"Please tel us as soon as ye have word," Maureen cal ed after him as he ran toward the woods.
"'Tis the wee stick we made fer her," Cal um said as they approached Fergus and Iain, who held the piece of carved pine in his hand.
Rory's heart pounded in a panicked rhythm at the grim expressions on the two men's faces. "What is it?"
"Blood." Fergus led them to the spot, shining his torch over the forest floor. Rory crouched by the patch of moss. He cut it away with his dagger and brought it to his nose to sniff, cursing when he smelt the al -too-familiar coppery scent.
"Anything else?" Dread crept into his soul and his voice.
Fergus lay a heavy hand on his shoulder. "Aye, lad, there's signs of a struggle." He waved his torch to a place deeper in the woods. "There were at least four of them. I'm thinkin' Aileanna and Connor and two others. The ones who took them had horses."
Terror for what might have happened to her nearly brought Rory to his knees until rage melted the icy tenta cles of fear and exploded inside of him. He would find Aileanna, and whoever had stolen her from him--was dead. Wound so tight he thought he would explode, Rory slammed his fist into a nearby tree.
"Ali's strong, and verra canny. She'l get away from whoever has her. She escaped the tower, didna' she?" His brother tried to ease his worry, but beneath his encouraging words Rory sensed his fear as easily as he sensed his own.
"Fight, mo chridhe. Fight and I wil find you," Rory murmured. He gave a curt nod to Iain, unable to say any thing. If he gave his rage free rein he would be no good to Aileanna.
* * *Cal um and Aidan brought Cyril to the hal as Rory requested. Sitting in a chair, the man's head lol ed. Rory planted his foot on the edge of the seat and kicked it over.
"Sweet Jesu', brother," Iain gasped.
Rory ignored him and fisted a hand in the front of Cyril's tunic. Lifting him from the floor, he dangled him in the air.
"Who has her?" he grated between clenched teeth. Cyril struggled to breathe, his face purple. "Please . . . doona' kil me." He gave a strangled cry. Rory shook him. "Tel me and mayhap you'l live."
"The MacDonald. I sent her to the MacDonald. She . . . she's his spy. 'Tis where she belongs."
He released his grip on the sniveling bastard's tunic, and Cyr
il dropped with a thud into a crumpled heap on the floor.
"Get him out of my sight."
Aidan and Cal um grabbed Cyril none-too-gently by the arms. "'Tis yer own fault. Ye left me no choice, Rory MacLeod. Ye were to wed my sister. I wouldna' had to go to such lengths if ye had stuck to the agreement," Cyril cried as he was dragged unceremoniously from the hal .
"Get him out of here!" Rory bel owed.
Fergus eyed him. "I ken what yer thinkin', but you'l do neither the lass nor the clan any good if yer dead, and that's what you'l be if you go after her on yer own. You have to think this through, lad. The MacDonald wil no' harm her and wel you ken it. She has the look of Brianna, remember that. She'l have him eatin' out of the palm of her hand in no time. Mayhap she'l harangue him to death with her opinions on the feud."
Rory al owed himself a tight smile. The MacDonald wouldn't give in to her pleas for a truce, of that he was cer tain, but Rory had no doubt she'd try. She was as stubborn as the old fool. Mayhap the MacDonald would get so tired of her harassing him he'd send her back to Rory without any demands. He gave a derisive snort. It wouldn't take much for his enemy to recognize the leverage he now held. How he would use her was the question. Ali dropped to her knees beside Lord MacDonald and loosened the laces of his shirt. "Breathe, slow and easy now--there you go, that's it." She rubbed his broad back, ashamed she'd knowingly caused him pain. He might be Rory's enemy, but the man had lost his daughter, and it was obvious he grieved for her stil . "I'm sorry. I should've said something. Given you some warning."
"Who are ye, lass?" His bright blue eyes drank her in.
"I'm Ali Graham. Cyril MacLean had this man kidnap me and Connor from Dunvegan." She pointed to Gordie, who stood shifting from one foot to the other behind her.
"Cyril thinks I'm your spy, but al he real y wanted to do was get rid of me so Rory wil marry his sister Moira," she rambled.
Lord MacDonald touched her hair and a tear slid down his weathered face. Ali gently wiped away the moisture from his cheek, inexplicably drawn to the man. She felt guilty because of it, knowing he was the cause of Rory and his clan's suffering, but Lord MacDonald suffered, too, and she'd made it worse. Gordie took a step closer. "I doona' ken what she's talkin'aboot. Al I ken is Laird MacLean said ye'd give me coin fer bringin' her to ye."
Lord MacDonald slowly drew his gaze to Gordie. The tender look Ali had seen in his eyes turned deadly. If Ali thought Rory looked dangerous, he had nothing on this man, and she prayed he would not skewer her with the same look he now skewered Gordie with. Her captor was quaking in his boots.
Drawing himself to his ful height, Lord MacDonald's gaze raked over Ali. "Did he harm ye, lass?"
"Nay . . . no." Ali shook her head. She wouldn't have Gordie's death on her conscience. And if she said yes, she was certain Lord MacDonald would not hesitate to cut him down where he stood.
"I'l see yer compensated on the morrow. Take him." He jerked his chin at his waiting men. They led Gordie away with Connor staring after them. "Is the lad with ye?"
"Aye . . . yes, Connor was guarding me."
The older man raised a silver brow as though to say he didn't do a very good job of it, and Ali felt the need to come to Connor's defense. "There were two of them. Gordie kil ed Mungo when he threatened me." Without thinking, Ali's hand went to the spot on her throat where he'd pierced her with his blade. Eyes wide, Connor's jaw dropped.
"Good. No mon should harm a woman, no matter what the provocation. Come, yer shiverin'. We'l set ye by the fire. Are ye hungry, lass?" He guided her careful y to the open flame, handling her as though she were a fragile piece of glass. In a language Ali didn't understand, but had heard often at Dunvegan, he ordered his men about. Within minutes she had a steaming bowl of stew in one hand and a chunk of bread in the other. A swath of plaid was draped over her shoulders. Ali was relieved to see that Connor, too, was being treated as a guest.
"So tel me--how did ye come to be at Dunvegan in the first place?"
Ali related the story Fergus had concocted, then went on to tel him about Moira and Cyril MacLean and their ac cusations she was a spy, embel ishing details as she went along. She left out the part about the fairy flag, but told him how Rory sided with the MacLeans and locked her in the tower. She peeked through her lashes at Connor as she told the story. He didn't bat an eye, just kept on eating, but Ali thought she saw his mouth twitch. She didn't know why she babbled on. For some reason Lord MacDonald made her feel she could confide al her worries and her fears to him. "He locked ye in the tower, of al the . . ." he roared, and Ali jumped.
"It's al right," she reassured him. "I escaped. It's how I hurt my ankle." She lifted the edge of her gown to show him her wrapped foot. The once white linens were now as filthy as the rest of her. The older man slapped his thigh and hooted with laughter. Wiping his eyes, he said, "Ye escaped from the tower, did ye? Wel , yer as brave as ye are bonny, my pet."
Ali smiled to see the twinkle of amusement in his eyes, glad to take away at least some of the sadness she'd put there earlier.
"And what did the young fool do then?"
"He believed me and brought me back to Dunvegan."
She flushed under his scrutiny as though he knew exactly what happened next. He stroked his mustache, his voice subdued. "Are ye in love with the mon?"
She hesitated. Rory had been his daughter's husband and Ali didn't know how he'd react, but she felt a need to be honest with him and figured she'd already given herself away. "Aye . . . yes, I am."
He shook his head slowly. "'Twas the same with my Brianna. I didna' want the match, ye ken, but she wanted no other. No matter how many lads I paraded before her, she always went back to him."
Ali tried to ignore the pinch in her heart. It never got any easier to hear about the love Rory and Brianna had shared. Although she knew he loved her, too, no one wanted to be second best, and for her, Rory would always be her one true love.
She cleared her throat. "Why didn't you want her to marry him?"
"The MacLeods and the MacDonalds were always feudin' over one thing or another. Ye must ken that, lass."
"But the feud ended with their marriage. Surely you must have come to like Rory?"
The man looked beyond the fire and his answer came slowly. "Fer the most part. He wears the mantle of respon sibility wel fer al that it was forced upon him at a young age. Mayhap 'tis why he puts his clan above al else. Bri anna thought it was so. She never felt she truly came first in his heart. The day my daughter died the truce between our clans ended."
Ali's heart slammed into her throat. Brianna had suffered the same doubts she did. Her hope that one day Rory would be able to put her ahead of his clan diminished with each word the man at her side uttered. But she felt a need to defend Rory, and thought maybe she could ease some of Brianna's father's sorrow at the same time. "You mustn't doubt he loved your daughter, Lord MacDonald. I know he did--very much."
His jaw hardened. "If no' fer him my daughter would be alive."
"What are you saying? Rory would never have hurt his wife, not intentional y. He tried to do whatever he could to save her." She touched his big hand. "Her death and the baby's stil affect him. I saw it not long ago when I helped a woman with her delivery. He hasn't gotten over it, Lord MacDonald. He stil feels guilty."
"Aye, and so he should. My daughter was no' strong from birth. 'Twas her sister who was the strong one." A gentle smile curved his lips, fading when he continued.
"He shouldna' have forced her to have a bairn. Him and his godforsaken clan wanted a babe to carry on the MacLeod name. He could've left it to his brother."
Heat rushed to Ali's face. She didn't want to have this conversation with Brianna's father, but no matter how un comfortable it made her, she would. If there was even the slightest chance she could change the course of the feud, she'd take it. "Have you ever stopped to consider that your daughter knew her time was short and wanted to give Rory something to remember her by?"
He t
urned away from her, his voice gruff when he asked, "Why would ye think that?"
"I'm a healer, Lord MacDonald, and it's been my experience that sometimes people have a sense of their impending death. I don't know al there is to know about your daughter's medical history, but if this was a condition she had since birth, then you were blessed to have her as long as you did. You must have taken wonderful care of her."
He swiped at his eyes. "When I lost her mother and her wee sister she was al I had left."
"She was very lucky to have you. I envy her that." She gave him a watery smile.
"We're a pair, aren't we?" He squeezed her hand. "Ye bed down in my tent and we'l talk on the morrow."
"Lord MacDonald, would you send a message to Rory and tel him I'm safe here with you?"
"Aye, at first light. Ye ken I'l no use ye in the feud, lass. I'l no' have ye suffer. But . . ." He hesitated, watching her closely. "Ye'd be welcomed at Armadale by me and my clan if after the battle ye wish to return home with me."
"Thank you. Is it because I remind you of your daughter?" she asked quietly. It was ridiculous, but she hoped not. Ever since coming to Dunvegan she'd been compared to Brianna, and grew weary of being wanted only because she so closely resembled someone they had al once loved.
"Aye, ye do remind me of her. Although I ken yer no'like her, ye've lightened my heart this night and I thank yefer that. Ye canna' blame an old man fer wantin' to keep ye around, now ken ye?"
"If you and the MacLeods weren't feuding, maybe we could visit one another."
He quirked a brow. "I knew where ye were headed al along, lass. I just didna' ken how long it would take ye to get there. In that yer like my wife. She hated the constant feudin'. 'Tis why I think she left me that night, takin' my other daughter and runnin' off. If Brianna wasna' so sickly as a bairn, I'm certain she would've taken her as wel ."
"You never found them?"
"Nay. Searched for years until I realized 'twas hurtin'Brianna."
"I'm sorry." She squeezed his hand.
"Sleep wel , my pet. On the morrow we'l talk." He laughed when she gave him a hopeful smile.
Lord of the Isles Page 22
