"I'm no' makin' any promises." Chapter 22
Rory sagged with relief in his chair, handing the parchment across the desk to his brother. "He has Aileanna, says she's wel , but he wil return her only when he's satisfied she's rested." She was coming back to him. Rory didn't know when he'd ever been happier. Without her it was like the light had gone from his life.
He had lain in her bed, breathing in her scent. Sleep had eluded him as he battled his demons. Torn by the needs of his clan, he had feared what demands the MacDonald would make of him for her safe return, only to find there were none. Rory was certain the reason the old goat backed off was that Aileanna reminded him of his daughter.
"Sounds like the MacDonald has taken a special interest in yer lady." His cousin grinned. "Ye best be careful he doesna' steal her away from ye. The ladies are al atwit ter when he's at court. Consider him to be a handsome old bugger, they do."
He scowled at Aidan. "She has the look of his daughter, 'tis al it is."
"Do we hold off readyin' the men?" Iain interrupted.
"Aye, we hold. I want to be here when Aileanna is returned."
"Fergus, Iain, are ye no' surprised Himself wants to be here to greet his lady? Imagine, the great warrior would rather keep the home fires burnin' and see to his woman than lead his men into battle. We'd best be certain the men doona' get wind of this," Aidan quipped. His laughter faded when he met Rory's gaze. "I'm teasin', cousin. I fer one would think yer daft if ye went ridin' off without seein' to her first." Aidan shook his head. Placing his two hands on the desk, he leaned toward Rory. "Can ye no' let it go, cousin? Yer no' yer father. There's no better laird than ye, but ye deserve a life and doona' ye dare let that lass suffer because of yer foolish notions." Aidan slammed his fist against the polished wood, then left the study.
"He's right, Rory. I ken yer worries. Doona' ferget, I lived them, too. I doona' carry the weight of yer responsi bilities, but I do understand, and mayhap you wil let me shoulder some of the load. I may no' be the man you are, but I am a man," his brother said quietly, walking away before Rory could think of something to say.
"Bloody hel , what just happened here?" Rory grumbled. Leaning back in his chair, he rubbed the stubble along his jaw.
"We al desire the same thing, lad. We want to see you happy, truly happy, and we ken Aileanna is the one to do that fer you. We doona' want you to mess it up is al ."
Rory rol ed his eyes. "I canna' mess it up. I love her. She kens that."
Fergus grinned. "She does, does she? How are yer weddin'plans comin' along?"
"Go tel Mrs. Mac and Mari the good news," he muttered, waving his friend from the study. Ali crawled from the tent and met a grinning Lord Mac Donald. He crouched at her side. "Are ye havin' a bit of trouble, lass?"
"I feel like I've been run over by a car . . . cart," she quickly amended.
"Here, let me help ye." He looped a strong arm around her waist and pul ed her to her feet. "I'l bring ye down to the loch and ye can clean up a bit." He held up the bundle he carried in his other arm. "I have everythin' ye need. I'm certain ye have no wish to get back into yer own things."
Ali shook her head and smiled. "Definitely not." She looked out over the campsite to the men mil ing about.
"Where's Connor?"
"Over with some of the other lads. Doona' fret. I told him to have a care fer a day or two. He has quite the bump on his noggin."
"He does. Is Gordie gone?"
"Aye, hightailed it out of here at first light, along with the messenger. Now here's some linens and soap. No one wil bother ye, lass." He unsheathed his sword with a smile. "I'd no' al ow it. I'l be over there." He pointed out a large boulder just beyond the edge of the loch.
"Thank you." Ali hobbled along the black sand beach until she found a secluded spot behind a cluster of rocks and low shrubbery. She shrugged out of her filthy gown and underclothes, leaving them in a heap in the brush. The cool, clear water lapped gently over her, taking some of the ache along with it. Her thoughts went to Rory and she wished he was with her, holding her in his arms. She missed him, more than she thought possible. The knowl edge she would soon be back with him was heartening, but only if she didn't think of how little time they'd have to gether before he left her for the battle. Closing her eyes, she tried to block out the gory images that haunted her.
"Ye havena' drowned on me, have ye, lass?" Lord MacDonald's deep voice jolted her from her musings.
"Nay . . . no, I'l be right there." Ali paddled to shore. She quickly dried off and began to dress. She pul ed the crisp white shirt over her head--it fel to her knees. She wrapped the red, green, and blue plaid around her as though it were a sari, quite pleased with herself until she walked toward Lord MacDonald and saw the look in his eyes. "Is something wrong?"
"Nay." He patted her cheek. "The resemblance is uncanny is al ."
She sighed. "To Brianna?"
"Nay, to my wife. Come, I . . ." He looked down at her feet encased in the light suede boots. "I forgot to bring ye some linens to wrap yer wee foot."
"I'm fine. The boots are a little snug, but it does the same as wrapping it would."
"I wonder what the lad wil think when he gets a look at ye dressed in the MacDonald colors?" A wide grin split his handsome face.
Ali arched a brow. "I have a feeling you'd like to see that for yourself."
"Aye, I might just."
"You'd take me back--yourself ?" Ali couldn't suppress her joy at the thought she could bring the two men together and find some way to avoid the battle, to save Rory and his clan, and maybe the man at her side.
"Now, doona' be gettin' yer hopes up. We'l no' be leavin'til the morrow. Ye had a rough go of it. I'l make my decision then."
Although Ali was disappointed she'd have to wait another day to see Rory, her backside was relieved. She wouldn't be bouncing on a horse for one more day, and what better way to use her time than working on Lord MacDonald? Ali fidgeted on the horse she shared with Alasdair MacDonald. "'Tis no' much farther, my pet. Would ye like us to stop and give ye a wee rest?"
Connor let out an exasperated sigh as he rode beside them with one of the men-at-arms, and she bit back a grin. She didn't blame him. Lord MacDonald insisted they stop every few miles for Ali's benefit, and she was sure they'd doubled the length of time it took to get to Dunvegan because of it.
"No, I'm fine, Alasdair. You don't have to worry about me," she said, cal ing him by his name--something he had insisted upon the night before as they sat by the fire sharing stories, Ali weaving her own experiences growing up with a made-up childhood along the borders. In two short days together they'd grown close. It was as though they'd known each other forever and adopted each other: Ali a substitute daughter for the one he had lost, and he a substitute father for the one she had never known. Because of the bond that had developed between them, Ali knew he would try to come to some sort of truce with Rory, although no promises had been made. But he didn't rule it out either. For Ali it was a start. If she could just get the two men in the same room, some good had to come of it. It couldn't get any worse, and she'd be damned if she'd let the two of them kil each other over a stupid piece of land.
"I ken yer gettin' yer hopes up, lass, but he's a stubborn one," Alasdair said, as though he could read her mind. Ali snorted. "That's what he says about you."
"Harrumph. Are ye certain ye wouldna' rather come to Armadale with me?"
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Connor stiffen. "I told you, Alasdair, I'm happy at Dunvegan. I've made friends, people I care about. The others wil have to warm up to me sooner or later."
"Good--I doona' like to think of ye bein' unhappy."
"I won't be." She patted his hand and smiled back at him. "And if Rory makes me mad, I'l just come visit you."
Alasdair chuckled. "I'm certain that wil please him to no end. Ye do ken, my pet, 'twil no' be easy. The lad was verra young when he was forced to become laird, no older than this one." He jerked his chin at Conn
or.
"I didn't know. That couldn't have been easy for him."
"Nay, I ken it wasna', but he had no choice. His father was mad with grief over the loss of his wife. I ken how he felt. I lost my wife and daughter, but ye have to go on fer those left behind, those who depend on ye, and he couldna'do it. He took his own life. 'Tis said 'twas Rory who found him. Bad enough that, and on top of it his father had left them in dire straits. They were practical y starvin'."
Ali's heart ached for Rory. No one should have to go through what he did. But she welcomed the insight, and in some ways she thought the trials he had faced created the very characteristics that drew her to him, made her love him as much as she did.
"Sounds to me like you admire the man."
Alasdair gently tugged her hair. "Minx. And ye'l no' be usin' that against me."
"I can see by the end of it I might be knocking your two stubborn heads together to make you both see reason."
Alasdair's amused laughter brought a smile to his manat-arms's face. It was obvious his men were fond of their laird and glad to see him happy.
Over the next rise, Ali spotted the towers of Dunvegan. Bathed in gold, they gleamed as the sun set behind them. Excitement tingled from the tips of her toes to the top of her head and she wanted to urge the horses to pick up their pace.
"Hoist the flag, Gilbert," Alasdair directed the man Connor rode with.
Ali nudged him. "I don't think that's real y necessary, do you?"
"Aye, my pet, I do. Look to the men linin' the wal s."
She looked to where he pointed and swal owed hard.
Bows were aimed in their direction. "No, there must be some mistake. Rory would never al ow it."
Rory walked the parapet. Aidan, Iain, and Fergus followed in his wake. Even though Aileanna and Connor rode with the MacDonalds, a show of force was necessary. As the contingent broke through the line of trees he couldn't help but smile. In a short time he would have her in his arms again. But his smile quickly faded when he saw who rode at her back--Alasdair MacDonald, and the old goat had dressed her in his colors.
"Yer lady looks as bonny as ever. His plaid suits her,"
Aidan said, a hint of laughter in his voice. Rory shot him a quel ing look over his shoulder. "Lower yer bows," Rory commanded down the line. The show was over. He wouldn't al ow Aileanna to be wounded by an archer with a twitchy finger.
"Do ye think his presence means he's amenable to negotiations?"
"With Aileanna, anythin's possible, but doona' get yer hopes up, Aidan. He's a stubborn old goat."
Aidan chuckled as they crossed the courtyard. "I'm thinkin' ye may have to give as wel , cousin, or yer lady may no'be as welcomin' as ye hoped."
Fergus, Iain, and his cousin shared a laugh, but al fel silent as the drawbridge lowered and the sound of the horses'hooves clattering on the wood heralded their arrival. Before Rory could reach Aileanna, the MacDonald had her off the horse, her hand tucked beneath his arm, and they shared a smile. Rory clenched his hands into fists at his side.
"Easy, lad," Fergus murmured.
His anger was forgotten the moment Aileanna turned her bril iant blue gaze upon him and smiled a smile that he knew was meant for him alone. When he reached her side, he brought a hand to her cheek. "Yer wel , mo chridhe?" he asked quietly, fighting the urge to take her in his arms, knowing it would be in poor taste considering the man at her back was his former father-by-marriage.
She pressed her cheek to his palm. "I am. I missed you,"
she said shyly, keeping her voice as low as his.
"I missed you, too, and later I'l show you how much,"
he said before he raised his eyes to Alasdair MacDonald and his men. "I thank you fer seein' to Aileanna's wel bein' and bringin' her home."
An emotion that Rory didn't recognize flickered in the man's cerulean gaze, but quickly disappeared. "'Twas my pleasure."
They hadn't seen each other since they'd laid Brianna to rest at Armadale--an al owance Rory had made to the other man's grief. The MacDonald was thinner than he remembered, but there was a lightness about him now, and Rory hoped he had found peace.
No matter that they might soon face each other on the battlefield, he didn't begrudge him that. The man had lost more than most, and Rory owed him for not using Aileanna as a pawn. Alasdair MacDonald was an honor able man, and although he'd never let the old goat know it, he had a great deal of respect for him.
"Wil you sup with us before you leave?"
Aileanna frowned. She took Alasdair's hand and tugged him to her side. "He's not leaving, Rory. Not until this ridiculous feud is settled." Chapter 23
The old goat had the nerve to grin at Aileanna's pronouncement, and Rory was forced to fol ow in their wake like a minion in their service. He stifled a growl as his brother and Fergus took her in their arms as he longed to, and cooled his heels while Mrs. Mac and Mari happily welcomed her home.
Their greeting of the MacDonald was more subdued, but politely made. Al except Fergus, who genuinely liked the man. The two had developed something of a friendship upon Rory's marriage to Brianna, and it was obvious it stil endured as they clapped each other on the back on the way into the keep. Rory nudged his cousin, who'd been watching the proceedings with an amused eye. "It looks like ye'l be doin'some negotiatin' after al ." Aidan grinned.
"Aye, and it would be best if I kent just what Aileanna's been sayin' before sittin' down with the mon. I ken he's no'anxious to let her out of his sight so I'l need yer help. Chal enge him to a game of chess. He'l no' be able to resist and 'twil give me time to speak to Aileanna alone."
Aidan raised a brow. "Aye, I'l do it fer ye, cousin, to give ye and yer lady a chance to talk."
The smal contingent that accompanied the MacDonald had entered the hal before Rory caught up to Aileanna and Alasdair. "Why doona' we retire to the upper salon, Alasdair, and yer men can take their leisure in the hal . We'l rejoin them at the evenin' meal."
"I'm in the mood fer a game of chess. Would anyone care to join me?" his cousin asked. Alasdair's gaze flickered over Rory, and then back to Aileanna. A slight smile caused his mustache to twitch.
"I'd be up fer a game. Fergus?"
"Aye, I ken the last time we played you beat me, so 'tis time for a rematch." As soon as the words were out of Fergus's mouth, Rory knew he regretted them. The last time they'd played it was a means to distract themselves on the long days leading up to Brianna's death.
"Wil ye be joinin' us, my pet?" Alasdair asked Aileanna, his gaze softening.
"If you don't mind, I'd like to freshen up first."
"Aye." He patted her cheek. "And have a wee rest while yer at it. A ride like that takes a lot out of a person, espe cial y one as delicate as yerself."
Rory managed to stifle his shout of laughter, but Iain, Aidan, and Fergus were not as successful. Aileanna glared at them before she reached up to give the old goat a kiss on the cheek. "Make sure you beat them, Alasdair, for me. I'l see you at dinner."
"Aye, my pet, I wil . Rory, wil you no' be joinin' us?"
Alasdair gave him an intent look.
Rory clenched his teeth. The arrogant old fool would be the death of him, especial y if he continued to fawn over Aileanna as though he had the right. "Aye, but first I have a couple of matters that require my attention. Aileanna."
He offered her his arm. "I'l see you to yer chambers."
She took his arm, making an obvious effort not to smile.
"Am I one of those matters you have to see to?" she asked when they were wel out of earshot at the top of the stairs.
"Aye, the only matter I wish to see to," he growled. Tugging her into his arms, he lowered his mouth to hers. Desire flared within him as once more he held her lush curves next to him. At her eager response, he deepened the kiss. She moaned, parting her lips to al ow his tongue to tangle with hers. Her arms wound around his neck, and he gripped the round firmness of her behind. Lifting her off her feet, he backed her against the wal . He g
round his cock into the soft curve of her bel y. At the sound of footfal s on the staircase, Rory cursed under his breath and broke their kiss. Mrs. Mac approached with a handful of fresh linens.
"Och, there you are. I was wonderin' where you'd be wantin'me to put his lordship."
Rory swept Aileanna into his arms, turning his back to Mrs. Mac so she wouldn't see his raging cock-stand or Aileanna's flushed face and passion-fil ed eyes. Just as he was about to tel her exactly where he wanted Alasdair, the woman in his arms took hold of his shoulder and pul ed herself up to say, "Why don't you put him in Brianna's room, Mrs. Mac? It might be nice for him to be surrounded by some of his daughter's things."
"'Tis a wonderful idea, my lady."
"Wonderful, just bloody wonderful," Rory muttered as he strode along the corridor toward Aileanna's room. She frowned at him. "What's wrong with putting him in Brianna's room?"
"What's wrong is by doin' that"--he shoved open the door to her room--"yer puttin' him in the room next to mine."
She rol ed her eyes. "Rory, it's not like you're sleeping in the same room with the man. You have a door between the two of you."
He set her down on the edge of the bed. "Aye, there is, but the mon wil ken when I'm comin' and goin'."
"What does that have to do with anything?"
He shook his head, careful y removing the boots from her feet. "Think on it, Aileanna. He'l ken when I creep back to my bed after bein' with you."
"He'l just think you had business to take care of."
He snorted. "The mon's no fool."
"Funny, you keep saying he is."
Rory sat back on his haunches and looked into her beautiful face. "Are you tryin' to make me daft, mo chridhe?"
he asked, stroking her smooth, bare legs beneath the plaid.
"No." She gave him a slow, sensual smile before she ran the tip of her pale pink tongue along her ful lower lip.
"I ken what I wear under my plaid, but what do you wear?" His voice was low and gruff as he smoothed his palms along the warm, satiny skin of her inner thighs.
"Nothing," she whispered. Her eyelids fluttered closed, her legs parting ever so slightly. He bunched the fabric to her thighs and tangled his finger in her silky curls, stroking her slick, wet folds. She leaned back on her hands, her hips arched, and he knew he wanted her naked and on the bed beneath him--now. Kissing her knee, he rose to his feet. "I think I'l have you dress in a plaid more often, mo chridhe, but it wil be MacLeod plaid, no' MacDonald. But right now, I need you out of this so I can show you just how much I missed you."
Lord of the Isles Page 23
