Debbie Mazzuca Bundle (29 page)

“Shh, love, doona’ cry,” he crooned, stroking her silken tresses. “I’m here now. I’ll never leave you again.”

She tipped her chin and gazed up at him. He wiped her tears away with his thumbs and smiled down at her. “I thought I’d lost you forever, Aileanna. It wasn’t until I came back from Lewis that I learned you were here, that the magick didna’ work.”

Fresh tears trickled down her cheeks. “I was so scared, Rory. I kept waiting for the magic to happen, waiting for it to take me away from you, from everyone.”

The look of anguish in her face tore at every fiber of his being. “You have to believe me, mo chridhe, I never would have raised the flag if I’d thought there was any other way. I couldn’t let you die. I—”

She shook her head and pressed two fingers to his mouth. “I know.” Her lips curved in a gentle smile. “I know you felt you had no other choice. I understood what the decision cost you. How difficult it was for you to use the clan’s last wish, and I loved you for that.”

He gave her a fierce kiss. “I couldna’ do anythin’ but. I love you, Aileanna, ye must ken that.”

She touched his cheek. “I do. I love you, too.” A shadow darkened her luminous blue eyes. “But I don’t understand why I’m still here. Why the magic didn’t work.”

He gave her a wry grin, and brushed a strand of hair from her face. “Mrs. Mac. She didna’ want to risk you findin’ the flag and leavin’ us. She switched the silk. It was no’ the real flag I raised that day.”

Aileanna sagged against him. “I wish I had known.”

He cradled her head against his chest. “You and me both, my love,” he murmured.

She threaded her fingers through his hair and brought his mouth back to hers. Her kiss was achingly sweet.

“Get yer filthy paws off my daughter, MacLeod.” MacDonald’s angry words crackled in the stillness of the night.

Rory’s head whipped up. Lost in Aileanna, he had no warning of the other man’s presence, and he cursed his inattention.

Aileanna groaned. She squeezed Rory’s hand. “Let me handle this.”

He shook his head, looking past her to the older man who stood on the garden path. “Nay, this is between me and MacDonald.” He gently placed her out of harm’s way, ignoring her protests.

In four angry strides, MacDonald closed the distance between them. “Yer no’ welcome here. Get off my lands, MacLeod.”

“’Twill be my pleasure, but I willna’ leave without Aileanna.”

“Over my dead body. I’ll no’ give ye another of my daughters after what ye did to the last.”

Rory heard Aileanna gasp.

“I did everything in my power to save Brianna and you bloody well ken it. As fer Aileanna—”

“Ye’ll no’ have her,” the man bellowed. “Ye godforsaken MacLeods and yer bloody flag took her from me the first time. Ye’ll no’ be takin’ her from me again.” He thumped Rory in the chest with his fist.

Anger hazed his vision and Rory thumped him back, going toe-to-toe with the raving lunatic before him. “She’s mine, and no’ you or anyone else will keep her from me.”

“She’s no’ yers, she’s mine, and I’ll no’ see her wed to ye. I’ve got men inside, good men, better than the likes of ye, beggin’ fer her hand.”

Heat blasted through Rory. He fisted his hands, the temptation to hit the man overwhelming. “Ye canna’ promise her to another. We’re as good as wed. She’s been in my bed.”

Aileanna’s outraged gasp pierced his temper and he cursed, turning to apologize to her.

Smack.

The MacDonald’s powerful fist glanced off Rory’s cheek, hitting him square in the eye. Rory stumbled. His battle-honed reflexes took over and he planted his fist in the MacDonald’s eye.

With a bellow of rage, the older man charged him, and the two of them landed in a prickly bush. Pummeling each other, they rolled off the bush and onto the hard ground.

“Stop it, stop it!” Aileanna’s pained cry froze their fists in midair. Rory lowered his hand and rolled onto his back, as did the MacDonald. The two of them stared wide-eyed at the glorious angel who looked down at them—a very angry angel. Her stormy blue eyes flashed, and Rory winced at the string of curse words coming out of her innocent-looking mouth.

“Aileanna!” came the MacDonald’s shocked response.

“Doona’ Aileanna me. Bloodthirsty highlanders, the two of ye. Doona’ think either of ye have a say over me. I’ll decide who and when I wed. And ye can wipe that silly grin off yer face, MacLeod. I didna’ say I was marryin’ ye.” When the MacDonald chortled gleefully, she shook her finger at him. “And ye, paradin’ yer merry band of suitors before me. I’ll no’ wed any of them, and I can tell ye they’ll no’ want to wed me, a woman who carries the MacLeod’s bairn.”

She cursed. Pivoting on her heel, she stormed from the gardens, leaving them lying in stunned silence on the frozen ground.

The sure-footed old goat managed to get to his feet before Rory did. But Rory imagined it had less to do with agility, and more to do with the fact that he still reeled from the emotions Aileanna’s sharp tongue elicited.

Despite her anger, the memory of her thick brogue brought a smile to his face. The knowledge he was to be a father warmed his heart with a depth of emotion he’d thought only Aileanna could cause him to feel. But her stubborn unwillingness to wed him was a punch to his gut more debilitating than the one the MacDonald had delivered.

Once Rory managed to get to his feet, he rushed to catch up to the old man. They reached the door to the keep at the same time, jostling each other for entry. Their shoulders squeezed together as they tried to get through the door. Rory grunted, took a step back and shoved the old goat inside. Following him through the dimly lit corridor, he matched the MacDonald stride for stride when he saw Aileanna speaking to an older woman at the foot of the stairs.

Bathed in the warm glow of torchlight, she took his breath away. She no longer wore her mantle and Rory drew his gaze from where the large ruby glinted between the generous hollow of her creamy white breasts. If he hadn’t, the evidence of how much he wanted her would be visible to anyone who cared to look.

“Aileanna, we need to talk.” Rory barely managed to keep his frustration in check.

“Aileanna, ye and I have much to discuss,” the MacDonald said pointedly, giving Rory a little shove.

She regarded them with a haughty stare. “I’m not in the mood.” She tossed her hair and headed up the stairs. The delectable sway of her backside left Rory fighting the urge to throw her over his shoulder and make off with her into the night.

“Poppet, ’tis best fer all if this matter is settled.”

Rory heard her sigh, then she turned to meet the older woman’s beseeching gaze. “All right, Auntie, we’ll meet in the salon.”

Auntie?
Rory narrowed his gaze on Aileanna. What the bloody hell was she playin’ at?

“Nay, we have guests, Fiona. ’Twould be best if we left this until the morrow, and I’ll no’ have this mon anywhere near my daughter.”

Rory thrust his fingers through his hair. “Are you daft, mon? She’s as much yer daughter as I am yer son.”

Aileanna held up her hand. “Father, not another word out of you until we have some privacy.” She tipped her head toward the entrance of the grand hall where a small crowd gathered.

“Aileanna, you doona’ understand. He’ll make our lives a livin’ hell if you continue to let him believe yer his daughter. Doona’ pander to the mon, love.”

Alasdair gave a snort of self-satisfied laughter and clapped Rory a staggering blow to his shoulder. “Welcome to hell, my boy.”

The older woman intervened before Rory could respond. “Alasdair, see to yer guests while—” She stopped midsentence, her lips pursed. “After ye’ve put yerself to rights, that is. Laird MacLeod, I’ll see ye to yer rooms and mayhap a bath would be in order.” She wrinkled her nose, a twinkle in her eyes.

They were mad, the lot of them. Including the bonny mother of his child, whose soft giggle hadn’t escaped his notice. Remembering his manners, Rory brought the woman’s hand to his lips. “’Tis a pleasure to meet ye, Lady Fiona.”

Ali looked up from where she sat, legs curled beneath her on the overstuffed armchair. Her father and Rory, with a matching purple hue surrounding their left eyes, entered the salon together. If the expression on their faces was anything to go by, it was not by choice.

When her eyes met Rory’s, her breath caught in her throat. His damp hair, pushed back from the chiseled lines of his gorgeous face, brushed the snowy white linen that encased his broad shoulders. The tan suede pants he wore heightened the allure of his narrow waist and long, muscular legs.

As though he sensed the direction of her thoughts, his beautiful mouth curved in a sensual smile. That and the promise in his eyes caused Ali’s stomach to do a slow roll.

A commotion behind the men drew her attention. Fiona, followed by two young serving girls carrying platters, entered the room.

“I thought mayhap ye could use some sustenance, Laird MacLeod.” Fiona smiled at Rory, motioning for the platters to be placed on the table behind her.

Ali groaned when the smell of roasted meat wafted past her nostrils.

Rory strode to her side, a look of concern in his emerald eyes. “Are you all right, mo chridhe?” His long, warm fingers tipped her chin. She nodded, the intensity of his gaze making it difficult for her to speak.

Rory stroked her cheek with the back of his knuckles. “Good.” He crouched beside her, bringing her hand to his lips. “I’m sorry if my words in the garden hurt you, love. ’Twas no’ my intention.”

Her father’s loud grumbling was becoming difficult to ignore. When Fiona elbowed him, he glared at her. “What was that fer? Ye canna’ expect me to stand quietly by while he…he tries to seduce my daughter.”

Rory shot to his feet, rounding on her father. “Ye canna’ possibly believe that Aileanna is yer daughter.”

Ali’s nails dug into her palms, afraid of Rory’s reaction when he found out she was a MacDonald, Brianna’s sister.

“Laird MacLeod, please sit.” Her aunt nudged him into a chair opposite Ali. “Alasdair, you, too.” She pointed to a chair a good distance from Rory. “I think ’twould be best if he hears it from ye, poppet.”

“Aileanna, what’s goin’ on here?” Rory’s voice was harsh, edged with steel.

Ali swallowed hard. “He’s my father, Rory. No.” She held up a hand to stop his angry protest, then proceeded to tell him all she had learned since the day he had raised what he thought was the fairy flag.

Rory shook his head slowly. His mouth opened and closed.

Her father leaned back in his chair, a wide grin splitting his handsome face. “At a loss fer words, lad? ’Tis a welcome change.” Alasdair chortled.

Ali was tempted to smack him.

Rory took a deep swallow from the goblet of whiskey her aunt had pressed into his hands midway through Ali’s halting explanation. He lifted his gaze to hers. “So, yer Brianna’s twin, then?”

Ali nodded. She looked down at her hands, the crimson velvet twisted through her fingers. She couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes, too afraid of what she’d see there.

“Aye, and now yer free of any guilt ye may have had fer takin’ Aileanna from her time. In truth, ye brought her back to us, and we must thank ye fer that,” her aunt said in an obvious attempt to relieve the tension in the room.

Ali held her breath when her father began to mutter about it being because of the MacLeods she’d been stolen away in the first place. But it didn’t appear as if Rory even heard him. He sat, deep in thought. As the silence dragged on, the knots in Ali’s stomach twisted.

“Alasdair,” Fiona said, jerking her chin at Rory, a determined look in her eyes.

Her father left his seat to pace in front of the hearth. Coming to an abrupt halt near Rory’s chair, he shot Fiona a disgruntled look. “It appears, MacLeod, that I have no choice but to give ye my daughter’s hand in marriage. If no’ fer the bairn she carries, I can tell ye I’d no’ let ye near her. I’ve arranged fer the priest to be here on the morrow.”

Rory scrubbed his hands over his face, shaking his head. “Ye ken as well as I do, Alasdair, I canna’ marry Brianna’s sister.”

Ali’s heart squeezed. She couldn’t breathe, her worst fears confirmed. Now that he knew who she was, Rory didn’t want her. She choked back a sob. Tears streamed unchecked down her face.

“Aileanna, what is it?” Rory came to her side and gently wiped the moisture from her cheeks.

“You don…don’t want to mar…marry me anymore,” she sobbed.

With a tender smile, he took her hands in his. “You doona’ understand, mo chridhe. ’Tis no’—”

“It’s because I’m Brianna’s sister.” She hiccupped. “You can’t love me because…because I’m her sister.” Heartbroken, Ali cried all the harder.

“Shh, yer goin’ to make yerself sick, love. Look at me.” He cupped her face between his roughened palms. “There is nothin’ in this world that would make me stop lovin’ you, mo chridhe. You misunderstood me. ’Twas marryin’ you before a priest that I was speakin’ aboot.”

Ali swiped at her tears. He loved her. The knots in her stomach loosened ever so slightly. “You don’t want a priest to marry us?”

He arched a brow. His deep chuckle rumbled over her. “As I remember it, you were no’ plannin’ on marryin’ me in the first place.” He tilted his head to look at her. “Are you tellin’ me you’ve changed yer mind?”

She sniffed, then nodded. The thought of losing Rory overrode any of her silly sensibilities, and they
were
silly when she considered how much she loved this man.

He stood and pulled her up along with him. Wrapping her in his arms, he held her close. “Then we’re as good as wed,” he proclaimed with a grin.

“What?” she squeaked, easing out of his arms.

“Aileanna, because yer Brianna’s sister, a priest willna’ marry us until I get dispensation from the pope. If ’tis important to you, I will, but ’twill take some time. I ken this may sound odd to you, but all it takes for us to be legally 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 together 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 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 chambers. 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’ll 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 response 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, tell me this is yer room.”

She looked up. “It is.”

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

Ali rolled 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.” Rolling 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.”

She trailed the tips of her fingers along his cheek. “I think you should let me take care of you, Lord MacLeod. After all, 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 all I’ll ever need. I love you.” He slid his lips back and forth over hers, then kissed her thoroughly, 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 well 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 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 practice 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?”