"Aileanna, sit up, lass. I canna' make out what yer tryin'to tel me." He held her upright with a firm grip on her forearms.
"I . . . I didn't mean to do anything wrong. I just thought it would be nice if Mari had something pretty to wear." She looked at him from beneath long lashes spiked together with tears. "Mrs. Mac said it was al right, but that was why . .
. that was why the girls gave her to that madman. They were jealous, and it was al my fault. Oh, my God, I can't believe what I've done."
He framed her face with his hands and brushed away the moisture with his thumbs. "You were bein' kind, Aileanna, that's al . And when Mari needed you most you were there fer her. Yer braver than any woman I've ever known, and Mari is lucky to have yer friendship."
The vulnerability he saw in her eyes was his undoing, and when she appeared ready to argue the point, he lowered her onto the bed and covered her mouth with his. He swal owed her startled gasp. Taking advantage, he swept his tongue past her lowered defenses. She whimpered, encircling his neck with her arms, her tongue matching his stroke for stroke. Rory groaned. Her passionate response was al he hoped for. He had thought he imagined it that first night with her in his bed, thought he'd been hal ucinating with the pain, but feeling her now beneath him, he knew it wasn't so. She was everything he remembered: giving, sensual, and responsive. It was nothing like it had been with Brianna. Because his wife had been so delicate, so very fragile, the few times they'd made love Rory had been reluctant to unleash the ful strength of his desire. With Aileanna there would be no need to hold back.
He deepened the kiss, making love to her with his mouth. She arched her back, her lush curves pressed ful against him, and his fierce hunger for her drove the guilt from his mind. Lifting his mouth from hers, he pressed a kiss to her eyes, the curve of her cheek, and the corner of her lips; trailed kisses along the delicate line of her jaw while he worked at the buttons of her gown in an effort to get to the slender elegance of her neck. He kissed every inch of pearly white flesh exposed with each button he opened. She speared her fingers through his hair, drawing his mouth back to hers. Her kiss was hot and wet. He plundered her mouth, taking everything she offered and more--losing himself, forgetting everything but Aileanna and how he wanted her, needed her. The words echoed in his head, need her . . . need her. Like an icy bucket of water they cooled his desire. As though sens ing his retreat, Aileanna stiffened beneath him.
"Did I hurt you?" she asked. Her concern was obvious, and she gently brushed her fingertips over the heated flesh near his wound.
Rory rol ed onto his side and brought her hand to his lips, taking the excuse she offered him. "'Twil be fine."
Her brow furrowed and she drew away from him, touching his forehead, his cheek, before she began to prod near his wound. "No, it won't, not if you don't take better care of yourself."
He took a firm hold of her wrist to stop those insistent fingers of hers from traveling lower. Without interference from his head, his body readily responded to her. "Speakin' of wounds, I take it Mrs. Mac didna' have a chance to see to yers."
She gave him a questioning look, then slowly pul ed herself up from the bed, turning away from him, but not before he saw the hurt in her eyes. "Please, don't worry about me. I can take care of myself."
She sat on the edge of the mattress, stiffening when he laid a hand upon her shoulder. "I'm sorry, Aileanna, it's just--"
She released a heavy sigh. "It's because this is your wife's room, isn't it?"
Rory groaned. Stomach churning, he rose from the bed. Bloody hel , he'd nearly taken another woman in his wife's chambers. He couldn't think straight around Aileanna. With an effort conceived of desperation, he hardened his resolve and his heart, doing his best to ignore the compassion he saw in her tear-swol en eyes. Eyes he could easily lose himself in. Knowing the danger she posed, he forced himself to say, "I ken you wish to return to yer kin but have no memory of them, so I took the liberty of makin' an inquiry on yer behalf to Angus Graham. If anyone wil have the answers, 'twil be him. I expect word shortly."
Aileanna looked startled. "Why . . . why did you do that?"
She smoothed her hand over her gown, avoiding his gaze.
Rory frowned. Unsure why, her response gave him pause. "Is there somethin' yer no' tel in' me, Aileanna?"
She shook her head, eyes averted. "No."
With his fingers beneath her chin he forced her gaze to his. "Aileanna, I'm warnin' you--doona' keep anythin'from me."
He'd made her angry. The stubborn jut of her chin gave her away, as did the temper that brought out the midnight blue of her eyes. He'd seen it before--both passion and anger turned them that same shade of violet blue. If it wasn't a matter of importance, he would've laughed. She stood up to him, closing what little distance there was between them. "Don't you threaten me, Rory MacLeod, just because you feel guilty for wanting me, be cause for a few minutes you forgot your precious Brianna."
Tears and fury glittered in her eyes. "It was only lust. It happens. But don't worry, it'l never happen again. Now, I'd appreciate it if you'd leave my room. As Mrs. Mac said, it isn't proper." She turned away from him, wrapping her arms around her waist.
He'd made a mess of it, but she was right. It was only lust. Chapter 9
Ali sat huddled with Fergus and Iain at a table in the hal , picking at the big bowl of porridge in front of her. She gri maced as she tried to swal ow the mouthful without a swig of ale. It was difficult to get past her modern-day sensibil ities, and ale at eight in the morning was one of them, even if it was watered down.
"Is somethin' wrong with yer parritch?" Iain asked. She held up her spoon. The oats stuck like glue no matter how hard she tried to shake them off. "You can't convince me Cook isn't doing his best to kil me."
Both men guffawed. Ali smiled, a little surprised that she could. After last night, she didn't think she'd ever smile again. Learning Mari had been handed over to the priest because of her had devastated Ali. And her response to Rory's heated kisses only made matters worse. She'd almost convinced herself he wanted her as much as she wanted him. But men only cared about one thing. She thought she could do the same, but her heart always managed to get in the way. With her dating history, she was surprised she'd been so gul ible. Most of them weren't worth wasting that precious emotion on, but this one . . . Leave it to the little voice in her head to reappear now. Fergus studied her from beneath his bushy brows. "Is somethin' amiss, lass?"
More than I can tell you. She took a furtive look around the room. None of those gathered at the other tables ap peared to pay them any attention, but she lowered her voice just the same. "Did either of you know that Rory wrote to someone named Angus Graham to ask about me?"
"Oh, sweet Jesu', I'd forgotten al aboot Angus." Iain rubbed a hand over his clean-shaven jaw. "What are we to do now, Fergus?"
The big man shrugged. "Waylay any messengers that come to Dunvegan."
Iain tapped his spoon on the side of the wooden bowl.
"Yer better at sneakin' aboot than me, so I'l leave it to you."
Fergus nodded, then gave Ali a long, considering look. "Mrs. Mac says yer verra upset aboot the wee lass. Holdin'yerself to blame."
Ali blinked away the sting from behind her eyes. She was to blame, no matter what any of them said, and they couldn't convince her otherwise. She shoved a spoonful of porridge into her mouth to avoid arguing with him. Fergus wagged his wooden spoon at her from across the table. "I'l hear no more of that nonsense. You've done more good than harm, lass, and you remember that."
Iain shot her a look of concern. "I ken 'twas a terrible day fer you, Ali. They'l no' al be like that."
She tried to swal ow past the thick lump in her throat, but it was no use. Grabbing her mug, she gulped down a mouthful of ale. "That's comforting," she choked out. She studied the two men who sat across from her while they ate. Ali wished she could think of another way to find out where the fairy flag was hidden, but knew there was none. Using her wiles o
n Fergus would be next to useless, but Iain was another matter. A handsome man, charming to the extreme, he'd made it clear that given the slightest bit of encouragement he would jump at it--or her.
"Iain, would you walk with me to the Chisholms' this morning? I promised to check in on Maureen and the baby, and after . . ." She let her voice trail off and hoped the events of yesterday would make her little act as a distressed female believable. Trying her best to come across as helpless, she didn't realize Rory had joined them until she heard the scrape of his chair as he dragged it back from the table.
"I thought you meant to miss breakin' yer fast. Is yer wound actin' up?"
"Nay, I didna' have a chance to speak with Cal um and rectified the matter this morn." Rory directed his answer to Fergus, but his gaze lingered on Ali. "Good morn, Aileanna," he said quietly. She gave him a cool nod, but kept her gaze trained on Iain, who looked from her to his brother before answering.
"Aye, Ali, 'twil be my pleasure."
"Thank you. I appreciate it, Iain."
Rory eyed her over the rim of his mug. "And what does my brother have the pleasure of helpin' you with, Aileanna?"
Although asked pleasantly enough, there was no mistaking the edge of steel beneath his question.
"He's agreed to accompany me to the Chisholms'." She poked at the oats with her spoon. Iain, as though he felt it necessary to explain, added, "After yesterday Ali is understandably nervous to be on her own."
Rory quirked a brow in her direction. "Is that so?" He kept his gaze trained on her while he took a mouthful of porridge.
Ali cursed Iain's unerring need to explain his actions to his brother. She hoped he hadn't triggered Rory's suspi cions. He was one man she wouldn't be able to fool. And the one man that for the life of her she couldn't keep her eyes off of. Fascinated despite herself, she watched the movement of the powerful muscles in his throat as he drank his ale. With a concerted effort, she dragged her gaze away, wishing, not for the first time, he'd been cursed with some deformity. He was too damn gorgeous for his own good--and hers. "If you'l excuse me, I'l meet you in the courtyard in a few minutes, Iain. Fergus, Lord MacLeod."
She nodded in their direction.
"Aileanna--" Rory paused, waiting for her to acknowledge that he'd spoken to her.
She sighed and turned to face him. Her knuckles whitened as she gripped the back of her chair. The corner of his mouth twitched and amusement glinted in his eyes as he looked at her. "You'l be ridin' to the Chisholms'."
Ride? Her brow furrowed. Good God, he wanted her to ride a horse. "Thank you, but I'd prefer to walk."
"Nay. You'l ride."
What the hel was she supposed to say? Was there a woman in this godforsaken time that wouldn't be perfectly at ease in the saddle? "I . . . I can't ride. I'm al ergic."
"Al ergic? I've never heard of the word." He narrowed his gaze on her.
Damn, she'd done it now. She glared at Fergus and Iain. It was their fault she was in this predicament. But did they come to her rescue? No, of course not. "Horses make me sneeze."
"'Tis al in yer head," he scoffed. "A horse canna' make you sneeze. And you wil ride, Aileanna, or you wil no'go to the Chisholms'. Yer feet are no' yet healed."
She leaned across her chair to glare at him. "You can't tel me what to do, Rory MacLeod, and don't you forget it."
He sat back, arms folded across his broad chest, his eyeslocked onto hers. "Yer wrong, Aileanna. I can, and I wil . Now, if yer scared of ridin' a horse, that I would understand."
"Of course I'm not scared." She waved her hand offhandedly.
"Good. I'l meet you at the stables after I've eaten."
"No . . . no, I'm not going with you. I'm going with Iain."
She silently pleaded with Iain to intervene. His answer--a helpless shrug of his shoulders.
"If you plan on goin' to the Chisholms' you'l meet me at the stables." That said, Rory went back to eating. Her fingers itched to dump the mug of ale on his arrogant head.
Head bent, he glanced at her from the corner of his eye.
"I wouldna' try it, Aileanna. You wouldna' like the consequences."
"Achoo, achoo." Aileanna sneezed again and again. She stood just inside the stable door, as far from the horses as she could get. Sunlight played in her unbound hair, turn ing it to burnished gold. None too gently, she rubbed her eyes and nose. "I told you I have al ergies. Do you believe me now?" She sniffed dramatical y.
Rory pushed away from the rough-hewn boards of the stable wal where he'd watched her put on her wee show.
"Nay." He brought his face within inches of hers and tapped his finger on the tip of her reddened nose. "I doona'believe you, Aileanna, but you'd do wel on the stage, lass."
Her eyes widened as she stared at him in disbelief. "You can't be serious. Look at my nose, my eyes." She pointed at each of the parts she referred to.
"Aye, and if I rubbed at mine as much as you, they'd be the same."
"You're insufferable." She tossed her hair and turned to walk away.
"Oh, no, you doona' get away that easily." He grabbed her by the arm and tugged her toward him. "What, no sneezes? Achoo. " He mimicked her dainty sneeze, unable to keep the laughter from his voice. Her mouth dropped. She punched him in the arm, making him laugh harder than he had in a long time. "You'l have to do better than that if--" He took hold of the hands she'd bal ed into fists before she could fol ow through with her threat. "Now, why canna' you just admit yer afraid?"
Aileanna struggled to free herself. She tugged her hands from his at the same time he let go. She stumbled and fel with a resounding thud onto the hard-packed, hay-strewn ground. He reached down to help her and she slapped his hand away, glaring up at him.
"I didna' do it on purpose, Aileanna," he said, biting back a smile.
Her eyes flashed deep violet. "Hah, as if I believe that!"
She sat there and shook out the dirt from her dark blue gown. He crouched at her side. "Let me help you."
"No, I think you've helped enough." She squinted up at him. "And don't you dare laugh at me."
He grinned. "Come now, you must admit yer wee performance was funny."
She dipped her head, lips curved in a slight smile. He helped her to her feet and brushed off the back of her gown. His movements were light and brisk so as not to touch the rounded curves of her delectable behind.
"Thank you," she murmured and took a step away from him.
"Wil you tel me now why you wil na' admit yer fears, Aileanna?"
She shrugged. "Why should I? I think you've beenentertained enough for one day." Her attention was drawn to Lucifer, his black stal ion--a beast of a horse that even now pawed the ground in his stal .
"No one is without fears, Aileanna. I wouldna' laugh at yers."
She tipped her head to look at him, her eyes taking his measure. "I doubt you have ever been afraid of anything, Rory MacLeod."
She was wrong. He was afraid of her and what she made him feel. She awakened emotions he thought he'd buried with Brianna. He cleared his throat. "Come." He motioned for her to fol ow him. "Doona' worry, I'l choose a docile mount for you."
She moved across the hay-strewn floor with a discernible limp. Her gaze widened as she scanned the horses, a look of relief when they lit on the last stal . "I'l take that one." She pointed to the white fil y. Rory choked on his laughter. "Nay, Aileanna, she's no'ful y grown."
Hands on her hips, she rounded on him. "Are you saying I'm too big for her?"
"Nay, only that she's too smal for you. Why doona' you wait outside and I'l bring yer mount to you." Having de cided on the horse for her, he thought it best if they met outside the close confines of the stables. Aileanna left without an argument while Rory retrieved her mount.
"Come, girl, 'tis time to meet yer lady." The honey-colored mare shot him a baleful look and went back to her oats. Anyone else would be offended if he suggested old Bessie be their mount. Most could walk faster than the mare, but it was al Aileanna requ
ired for now and, Rory surmised, al she could handle. Rory saddled the horse and brought her out to where Aileanna waited.
"What's her name?" Aileanna asked, keeping herself wel away from the horse.
"Bessie. Aileanna, she wil na' bite. Come closer."
She gave him a disgruntled look before she took a cautious step forward. "Nice horsie." Aileanna held out her hand in the direction of the horse's muzzle. Bessie gave a disdainful snort and Aileanna jumped away. Rory sighed. "We doona' have al day, lass."
"This was your idea." She sucked in what sounded like a panicked breath when he grabbed her around the waist and lifted her onto the saddle. "You could've warned me,"
she snapped, her nails biting into his shoulders. He eased himself away from her hold. "Now take your left leg and put it around the pommel." She swung her leg over the horse, and now sat astride, giving him and anyone else who happened to wander by a tantalizing view of a bare and shapely leg. Bloody hell. "Aileanna, 'tis no' how a lady sits a horse." He patted the horn. "Now bring your leg back over this."
"No, I'l fal off. I like it better this way."
"'Tis no' proper you showin'--" He ran his hand through his hair, then gestured at her leg. Aileanna huffed out a breath. "It doesn't matter. No one else wil see."
She might think it fine for him to see her naked flesh. After al , he'd seen his fair share of her satiny smooth skin of late. But it did not aid in his intention to keep his hands or his thoughts off of her. Nor for that matter had his bril liant suggestion that she meet him at the stables. He had yet to figure out why he'd made the offer in the first place.
"I wil na' let you fal . Now, do as I say." His hand at her waist, he tried to ignore the heat of her skin beneath his fingers. He watched as she complied with his order, al the while muttering under her breath.
When Rory lightly slapped her hindquarters, Bessie began to saunter across the courtyard while Rory walked alongside. Aileanna sat frozen in the saddle. He gave her knee a squeeze of reassurance. "Now, that was no' so bad, was it?" he asked as they made their way out of the courtyard and onto the tree-lined path. The reins clutched in her white-knuckled grip, she muttered, "I'l tel you once she gets going."
Lord of the Isles Page 10