Rory stiffened, his body as taut as a freshly strung bow.
"Leave it be."
"Nay, I wil na'!" his brother al but shouted at him. "If you want Aileanna only to warm yer bed, Rory, doona' do it. The lass deserves better."
He narrowed his gaze on his brother. "I am laird, Iain, no' you, and 'twould be best if you remembered that." But Iain was right. Aileanna was not the kind of woman for a quick tumble. She was a lady, although not like any lady he'd ever known. Her beauty alone set her above the rest, but it was her courage, her strength that intrigued him beyond measure. And a tumble was al he could offer her. Never again would he give his heart to another. The cost was too high.
The door rattled on its hinges as he slammed from his chambers before he said something he'd regret. He gave Cal um and Connor a curt nod. "You both wil accompany Lady Aileanna and Mari to the hal when the time comes. Be prepared for trouble."
"Aye," they responded as one, purposeful y avoiding his gaze.
Bloody hell, he cursed beneath his breath. They'd heard his exchange with Iain. He opened his mouth to say some thing, then closed it. What could he say? His gaze drawn to the door they guarded, he could only hope Aileanna hadn't heard them, too.
The priest's voice broke through his thoughts, preaching the dangers of hel and damnation. He pinched the bridge of his nose, almost wishing he battled the MacDonald instead of dealing with what was to come. "Connor, tel the men to bring the priest to the hal ." He shot the order over his shoulder as he made his way below, scattering the servants gathered at the base of the stairs with an impatient wave of his hand. He looked up in time to see Fergus stride into the keep empty-handed. "I take it the good sheriff was nowhere to be found."
Fergus raised a bushy brow. "Yer no' surprised?"
"Nay, but what of Mari's mother?"
The big man shook his head. "Too terrified of the priest to stand in defense of her daughter."
Rory scrubbed a hand along his jaw. "I canna' say I blame her. At least she thought to bring Mari here when he threatened her the first time."
"Aye, and Lady Aileanna wil stand up fer her."
"Aye, and that's what worries me," he commented dryly. A commotion from behind him drew his attention. The priest, slapping at his guard's hands, barreled toward them. With his robes bil owing behind him he looked like an overgrown carrion crow come to feed. The man cuffed one of the guards that tried to restrain him. "Laird MacLeod . .
. my laird, do ye no' hear me?"
"I wish I didna'," Rory muttered under his breath. Fergus snorted, clasping his big hands behind his back as he stared down his oft-broken nose at the twitching bundle of fury that stood before them.
"Laird MacLeod, if ye wil release the woman and the girl into my care ye'l be done with the matter."
"And what is it you're plannin' on doin' with them?"
The priest cleared his throat. "There wil be a trial, of that ye can be certain." His beady eyes darted toward the en trance of the hal .
"Ah, I see. And do you plan on usin' torture durin' this so-cal ed trial?"
The man gave an indifferent shrug of his birdlike shoulders. "'Tis necessary at times, ye understand."
"I understand only too wel , and you should understand this." He leaned toward the man. "They are under my pro tection. You came onto my lands and almost kil ed that child. The only reason yer no' locked in my dungeon is on account of my clan and the fact they hold you in someregard. Fer that reason, and that reason alone, I'l al ow you to state yer case."
"Ye canna' stand against the Kirk, Laird MacLeod, and wel ye ken it."
"Yer new to the Isles, Father, or you'd already ken I've stood against the Kirk before when it comes to those under my protection. And I'l do so again if need be."
"But . . . but . . ."
Rory jerked his head at his men, leaving the priest to protest until he was blue in the face. "Take him to the hal ."
Fergus fol owed behind at a leisurely pace. Tilting his head, he took a look into the grand hal and let out a low whistle. "'Tis packed to the rafters."
Rory rol ed his eyes. He wasn't surprised. Superstition ran deep amongst his people. They would be crying for the young maid's death as loudly as the bloody priest. They were slow in giving their acceptance, and Aileanna and Mari had not been around long enough to earn it. "'Tis time, Fergus. See to the women."
"Aye." Fergus clapped a heavy hand on Rory's shoulder.
"Al wil be wel , lad. They respect you. No one wil doubt the wisdom of yer decision once you render it."
"We'l soon see." He hoped Fergus was right. The problem was not in making the judgment, but in seeing that his clan saw the truth of it. He made his way into the hal . A warm, musky scent assaulted his senses. Bodies packed twenty deep lined the wal s. It took time to reach the dais in front of the room as those around him clamored for his attention. Looking out over his clan, the mantle of responsibility settled over his shoulders. His father had entrusted them to his care. They were as much his legacy as the land and the riches that went with his title--maybe more so. Every decision he'd made since assuming his role as laird had been for the good of his clan. His marriage to Brianna had been one such decision. Their union brought peace and stability to his people, but with her death, they were once more mired in the constant turmoil of war. His thoughts turned to Aileanna and her eloquent plea for peace. It was as though she assumed he took pleasure in the battle, but that was far from the truth. She didn't understand. How could she? She was a woman.
As though his thoughts conjured her up, she stood in the entrance to the hal , her bonny face pale. The somber color of her simple gown didn't help, but the choice had been a good one. She looked prim and proper, with the col ar but toned up to her throat and the cap hiding the bounty of her long, flaxen hair. Although, when Rory looked at her, al he could see was the outline of her voluptuous curves and wisps of hair that escaped the tight confines of her cap to caress the delicate beauty of her face.
From where he sat, he sensed her vulnerability. She was strong, but he could feel her fear, see it in the way she twisted her hands. She wasn't daft. She had good reason to be afraid.
Eyes lowered, she took a cautious step forward. The tenor of the room changed. Al conversation halted, and a menacing silence resonated in the hal . Aileanna flushed, and Rory noted the rapid rise and fal of her chest. If he could, he would go to her and offer his reassurance, but that would be a foolish move on his part. Rory's hand came to rest on his dirk. His muscles coiled with tension, ready to spring into action if the need arose. He would protect her even if it meant one of his own would die. He'd let no harm come to Aileanna. Iain, Fergus, Connor, and even Mrs. Mac would do the same. He could see it in the grim determination on their faces. Aileanna cast a sidelong glance at the young maid who now entered the hal behind them. The wee lass would move no farther, frozen in place by fear. Tears streamed down her pale cheeks. Connor and Mrs. Mac tried to nudge her forward. Even though he imagined their words were ones of reassurance, they did no good. It was only when Aileanna took Mari's hand in hers and whispered in her ear did the lass gather the courage to move forward. Aileanna squared her shoulders and looked out over the crowd as though she dared them to do or say anything against the young girl at her side. She'd swal owed her own fears in defense of Mari. Rory felt a surge of admiration wel within him. There was no denying it; Aileanna Graham was an amazing woman, and he was drawn to her like he'd been to no other. But he refused to act on those feelings. She was under his protection, nothing more. For both their sakes he had to keep his distance. The priest, surrounded by members of his flock, was only now becoming aware of the women's presence. The priest's chest puffed out like a rooster, and Rory knew he was getting ready for his tirade. He caught the man's eye and shot him a fierce look. It was a look Rory had perfected over a decade of being laird. He had Fergus to thank for the ability. Since the death of his own father, the older man had stepped aptly into the rol of surrogate. Rory t
rusted him like no other, and seeing him sit at Aileanna's side brought him a measure of calm.
A buzz of excitement hummed in the air as those gathered anticipated what was to come. Rory cleared his throat to gain their attention. "The first charge to be dealt with is the charge of witchcraft brought against the young maid, Mari." Out of the corner of his eye he spied Aileanna draw the wee lass closer. And he would have to be blind not to have seen the aggrieved look she shot him. What did she expect? As laird he had no choice. "Who has evidence to support this charge?"
The priest leapt to his feet. "I do."
Brow quirked, Rory regarded him evenly. "I would imagine so, since yer the one to bring the charge against the child. Are there no others?"
"Aye," a voice shouted from the back. The rotund figure of the cook pushed his way to the front of the room and pointed to the lass cowering beside Aileanna. "Three of my chickens died fer no reason the day after she arrived."
He heard Aileanna's undignified snort. "He probably fed them the slop I insisted he throw away," she muttered. Both Fergus and Iain barely managed to suppress their mirth at her comment. He shot the lot of them a forebod ing look. "Cook, was the lass anywhere nearby when the chickens died?"
"Nay, but--" the man sputtered.
"Did you no' have several chickens die a few months past?"
"Aye, but--"
Rory gave a dismissive wave of his hand. "Are there no others?" He noted some movement at the back, and for their benefit hardened his tone as he added, "Think twice before you cast aspersions on the girl. I wil demand evi dence of yer charge; if there is none, I wil assume you cast it for no other reason than malice and wil no' look kindly on the one who does."
The priest's eyes darted from left to right, scanning the crowd. He appeared to be trying to cajole the woman beside him to come forward, but she shook her head, eyes downcast.
He glared at her, then came to his feet in a show of bluster. "Laird MacLeod, as the Kirk's authority in these matters no other witness is required," he began self-importantly.
"My evidence alone should be enough to convict the lass."
Rory raised a brow, tilting his head. "And yer evidence is?"
"She carries the mark of the devil's handmaiden. Her hair is red, her eyes mismatched."
"Oh, come on." Aileanna shot to her feet, shaking off Fergus's restraining hand. "Genetics is what it is. Look around you. What about him, or her?" She pointed out a redheaded man and woman on either side of the hal who were doing their best to duck behind those who stood in front of them. The priest pointed at Mari, trembling with frustrated rage.
"'Tis no' only the hair. 'Tis the eyes that damn her the most."
"A condition cal ed heterochromia is what is responsible for Mari's eyes. It's because she has either too much pigment or lack of it in her iris."
Rory didn't know what she was saying, but he did know it was not her place to say it. His brother was to defend Mari. He skewered Iain with an angry glare. Iain shrugged his shoulders helplessly. "Lady Aileanna, you wil sit!"
"This is a farce, and I can't believe you're al owing it."
"Sit down. Now," Rory growled from between clenched teeth. The bloody woman would undermine him in front of his clan if he was not careful.
"Harrumph." She sat back down on the bench, folding her arms across her bountiful chest, and gave him a damn ing look.
The priest sneered at her, and Rory expel ed a sigh of relief when Iain grabbed her before she went after the man. His brother leaned over and quietly spoke to her before rising to his feet. Iain held out his hand to the wee lass. "Mari, come here, please."
Aileanna urged her to her feet.
Noting the curled fist at his brother's side, Rory hid a smile of satisfaction behind his hand. Iain turned the girl to face the gathered crowd and looked directly at the priest.
"Correct me if I'm wrong, but 'tis my understandin' that no one who is possessed of the devil would be able to come in contact with a cross, and if it was metal it would surely burn them."
"Wel , aye, but--" The priest's eyes widened when Iain removed a silver cross from his hand and placed it around the lass's neck. For added effect, he had her bring it to her lips.
"I would say that's al the evidence we need. But perhaps we should simply ask Mari." Rory raised his voice to be heard above the din of voices in the hal . "Are you a witch, lass?"
"Nay." She shook her head vehemently.
"In league with the devil?"
"Nay, my laird."
"Thank you, Mari, you may take yer seat."
Iain guided her back to the bench and Aileanna wrapped Mari in her arms while the lass sobbed quietly. Rory met her gaze above Mari's head. The smile curving her soft pink lips and the look of gratitude in her sapphire eyes stoked the flame of desire that had simmered inside of him since the moment she'd walked into the hal . Determined to dampen the fire that threatened to engulf him, he tried to draw forth an image of Brianna, but al he managed to conjure of her was an intangible wisp of memory. Guilt ate at him. He was beginning to forget, and al because of her, the woman who sat in front of him. He'd made a promise on Brianna's deathbed that no other would take her place. He'd meant it then, as he did now. Rory turned his attention from her to the priest. The man was scarlet with pent-up fury. "What of her?"
He pointed a gnarled finger at Aileanna. "I demand she be punished or I shal go to the king."
Rory leaned forward. "Do you threaten me, Priest?"
"Nay . . . nay, but ye must--"
"What I must do is get at the truth."
Mrs. Mac relieved Aileanna of the burden of Mari. The woman looked like she prepared for battle.
God help him.
"She struck me down. There are witnesses."
"None who have come forward," Rory commented dryly.
"Surely ye jest."
"Yer cal in' me a liar, are you?" Rory kept his voice quiet, dangerously so.
"Nay, but--"
"There's only one person who is lying and that is you."
Once again, Aileanna was on her feet, ducking beneath Fergus's outstretched arm she crossed to the priest before anyone could stop her, and grabbed the hem of his gown.
"He caught his foot . . . see, right there." She pointed to the tear at the bottom of his robes. A tear the priest was doing his best to conceal. "That's why he fel . I didn't push him. Although I was tempted to." She said the last under her breath. Rory jerked his head at some of his men to take up their positions amongst the crowd, afraid the excited chatter would soon turn ugly.
"Blasphemy. Laird MacLeod, I demand this woman be made to pay fer her sins."
"Be quiet. Lady Aileanna, are you sayin' you didna'push the priest?"
She gave a curt nod. "I didn't. He fel because he'd worked himself into a frenzy and his robes are too long." She turned her head and gave the priest a look of condemnation. "Perhaps God was punishing him for encouraging others to harm an innocent child."
Bloody hell. She surely would be the death of him. The priest looked about to have an apoplexy. The crowd was stunned into silence.
"Someone must have been a witness to this."
"Aye, Laird MacLeod, it is as Lady Aileanna says."
Cal um, the blond giant, lied through his teeth. He flushed under Rory's scrutiny.
"Lady Aileanna speaks the truth, my lord," Mari bravely added.
From the back, Rory saw a flash of movement. Janet Cameron pushed her son forward. The lad was al of about eight. "Ye tel yer laird what ye told me," she admonished him.
The boy stumbled toward the front of the hal .
"What's yer name, lad?"
"Jamie. Jamie Cameron," he mumbled, glancing back at his mother, who glared at him, arms crossed over her heaving chest.
Rory closed his eyes at the memory of the battle where the lad's da had lost his life. He released a weary sigh. Cameron had fought hard and died honorably earlier that year. He gentled his voice. "And what is it you have to
tel me, young Jamie?"
"The lady didna' trip the priest. She held her hand like so." He demonstrated the defensive posture with his own wee hand. "To protect the maid, and then he fel ." He lowered his head, casting a sidelong glance at Mari. He let out a pained breath, and once again looked over his shoulder at his mother. She jerked her head toward Mari. He shuffled his feet, then directed his ful attention to the lass.
"I'm sorry fer throwin' the rocks at ye."
The young maid's eyes widened. She flushed, then smiled at the boy. "Thank ye," she said, blinking back tears. Rory noted Aileanna swipe at her own cheek, then squeeze Mari's hand.
"Jamie, yer a verra brave lad to come forward. Just like yer father, and I wil na forget it. Yer mother's done a fine job with you, lad. When yer old enough, I'd be as honored to have you fight at my side as I was to have yer father." The boy beamed at his words. Out of the corner of his eye Rory saw Robert Chisholmcome forward and whisper something in Aileanna's ear. She started to rise, then looked at Rory. He nodded when he realized Maureen's time must have come. Anytime a woman of Dunvegan was about to deliver, Rory battled his fears, praying no other would suffer as he had. He was thankful Maureen would have Aileanna to see to her. His gaze fol owed them as they left the hal .
"What . . . ye canna' mean to let her get away with this?"
"Were you no' listenin'?"
"But I am a man of God."
"Aye, but that didna' stop you from trippin' over yer own two feet." He ignored the snickers his words drew and con tinued. "In the future I would suggest you be verra careful before you bring charges against another. Yer welcome to join us fer the evenin' meal, and then my men wil see you to wherever it is you travel."
The priest dropped onto the bench with a thump, no longer surrounded by supporters. He looked around him and turned back to Rory. "I have matters elsewhere that require my attention. I shal leave now."
"My men wil be ready to escort you shortly."
Ali laid the bundled baby into his mother's arms. "He's beautiful, Maureen, and very healthy." The look of pure joy on the woman's face wiped away Ali's exhaustion.
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