Debbie Mazzuca Bundle (6 page)

The girl bobbed her head.

“You canna’ live on bread alone, Aileanna,” Rory said, with a hint of amusement in the low rumble of his voice. “Cook took yer suggestions to heart. I’ve checked on the kitchens myself. ’Tis safe to eat.”

Even if that was the case, Ali wasn’t sure she could. She didn’t know how. Not without a fork or a knife to cut the meat. There was only a spoon beside her wooden plate. She glanced surreptitiously down the tables to see how everyone else was managing. Iain, obviously aware of the problem, took his dirk and sliced off some mutton for her. Everyone was so busy eating they no longer watched her, and she took a tentative bite.

“So, Aileanna, did you find what you were lookin’ for?”

Ali choked on the piece of meat and both Rory and Iain pounded her back simultaneously.

“I’m all right,” she managed, knowing if they didn’t stop with their forceful slaps, she wouldn’t be. She took a deep swallow of wine from the goblet in front of her.

Clearing her throat, she said, “I wasn’t looking for anything in particular, Lord MacLeod. I just wanted to see more of Dunvegan, since I’ve spent most of my time caring for your men.”

“Did it meet with yer approval?” Goblet in hand, he swirled the liquid, looking at her over the rim.

“Yes, it’s lovely.” She bent over her plate, pretending to be absorbed with her meal, ignoring the suspicious look Fergus shot at her across the table and the one she felt coming from Iain. Ali had a sneaking suspicion she would be watched closely from now on.

She drained her wine.

Rory refilled it for her. “I’m sorry I didna’ have the time to show you aboot myself.”

She shrugged. “You were busy.”

“Aye, and I’ve learned, thanks to you, Aileanna, that my men fared much better than I anticipated.”

“Aye, and next time we meet the MacDonald, we’ll be ready for the sneaky old bastard,” Iain said. Men all along the tables heard his comment and pounded their fists against the scarred wood. A loud chorus of
ayes
filled the room.

Ali couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Please, tell me you aren’t serious. My God, you were almost killed. Several of your men died.” An image of a battlefield like the one she’d seen on the tapestry the day she arrived flashed before her. Her stomach lurched at the thought of Rory in the midst of that slaughter.

He shrugged. “’Tis the way of it, lass. We have no choice.”

“Of course you do. You always have a choice. Wasn’t your wife a MacDonald?”

Iain nudged her foot beneath the table, and she nudged him back. She wasn’t about to keep quiet. It was too important. She had to find a way to make Rory see reason—to stop the senseless loss of life.

“Aye.” Rory’s expression turned fierce. Gone was the teasing man of earlier, replaced by someone she wouldn’t want to meet in a dark alley, or anywhere else for that matter.

“Are the men you fight with not related to her, can’t—?”

“’Tis her father.”

“You both loved the same woman. Surely there’s a way to settle your differences without bloodshed.”

“’Tis none of yer concern.” His tone was dismissive.

“You’re right, it’s not,” she said, pushing back from the table. “Please, give Cook my compliments. Good night.”

Rory looked ready to say something, but instead he stood and offered her his arm. “I’ll see you to yer room, Aileanna.”

“I can manage.” She brushed past him, her attention drawn to a flurry of activity at the far end of the hall. Several men surrounded a big, fair-haired man, pounding his back. Ali caught a glimpse of his face when the crowd parted and noted his coloring—the man was purple.

“Stop that,” she called out. Lifting her skirts, she rushed toward them. When she reached the man, she wrapped her arms around him. Making a fist, Ali placed her other hand over it and gave a quick upward thrust to his abdomen, repeating the motion five times. On the last thrust, a small bone shot out of his mouth and landed in the goblet of the man across from him.

“Thank ye, thank ye, my lady,” he gasped. “I couldna’ breathe.”

Ali patted his arm. “That’s what happens when you’re about to choke to death. Next time you might not want to swallow the bone along with the meat.”

“Aye,” he said sheepishly, to the amusement of his friends.

“It seems I’ll be forever in yer debt where my men are concerned, Lady Aileanna.” Rory took her arm, grabbed a torch from the wall, and led her from the hall.

“Here, give me that.” She reached for the torch. “I wouldn’t want to take you away from your battle plans.”

Rory sighed, the grim lines of his face softening in the dim light. “Aileanna—” He stopped. A commotion at the castle’s entrance drew his attention. The two men who entered were covered in grime and armed to the teeth. Rory indicated they were to wait, then stepped back into the hall and called for Connor. When the lad appeared he said, “Take Lady Aileanna to her room.”

Just like that she was dismissed, and more annoyed than she knew was reasonable. After all, hadn’t she been the one to tell him she didn’t want him to see her to her room?
Ah, but when you looked at that towering mountain of a man, and his beautiful green eyes, all you could think of was how his mouth would feel kissing you good-night,
the little voice in her head said. Ali didn’t bother issuing an objection. The stupid little voice was right.

“Thank you, Connor,” Ali said when they came to her room. The hall was damp and cold, and she was unable to contain a shiver.

“I can see to yer fire, my lady,” he offered with a shy smile.

“I’d appreciate that. I’m not very good at it.” She wasn’t. On her second day at Dunvegan—if not for Fergus and Mrs. Macpherson coming to her rescue—she would’ve died from smoke inhalation after her first attempt.

Ali opened the door to her chambers to find her young maid scouring the floor, a bucket of soapy water at her side. “Mari, what are you doing working at this hour? Have you had anything to eat?”

“Nay, but I will, my lady. I didna’ realize the time, is all,” the girl said, averting her eyes from Connor, who appeared to be doing the same.

“Connor, have you met Mari?”

His cheeks turned bright red. A lock of reddish brown hair fell across his forehead. “Aye…nay.”

“Mari, have you met Connor?”

The girl shook her head. Her face flushed the same color as her hair.

Ali held back a laugh. “Connor, Mari. Mari, Connor.”

They gave each other a brief nod, but while Connor busied himself with the fire, Ali saw him glance every so often in Mari’s direction. And Mari peeked at him whenever she thought he wasn’t looking.

“Connor, when you’re finished here would you mind taking Mari to get something to eat? She’s new to Dunvegan.”

“Nay, my lady, ’tis fine, I…” Mari began to protest.

With a sidelong look at Mari, Connor said, “Aye, my lady, I will.”

The young maid glared at her, and Ali suppressed a laugh, happy to see her spurt of temper. When Connor wasn’t looking, Ali mouthed
He’s very cute.
Mari’s expression didn’t change, but Ali thought she saw her lips twitch.

Ali shut her eyes to the early morning sunlight streaming through the open drapes on her window and snuggled deeper into the comfort of her feather bed. Now that was something she’d miss.
Hah, you’ll miss that beautiful hunk of a man next door,
the voice in her head chimed in. Ali buried her head beneath the pillow. That wasn’t something she wanted to think about.

“My lady?”

Ali removed the pillow from her head and blinked. “Oh, Mari, sorry, I didn’t see you there. I—” She sat up and stared at her maid. The girl stood before her, resplendent in the bright yellow gown, twisting her hands in front of her.

“Mari, you look wonderful.” Noting the girl’s frightened expression, she said, “Something’s the matter. What is it?”

“He’s here, my lady.” Her eyes filled with tears.

Ali got out of bed and pulled the trembling girl into her arms. “Who’s here?”

“The priest. The one who wanted to put me to the stake.”

Ali rubbed her maid’s back, remembering what Mrs. Mac had told her the day she brought Mari to her. Knowing what she did, Ali could well imagine the young girl’s terror. “Shh, now, how do you know he’s here?”

“The maids were talkin’ aboot it. The laird’s men brought him in yester eve.”

“Did they say why?”

“Aye, he’s demanding an audience with the laird.” The last of her words came out on a sob.

“Don’t worry, Mari. Lord MacLeod won’t let anyone hurt you, and neither will I. You trust me, don’t you?”

“Aye, my lady.” She sniffed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

“You’ll stay in my room. I’ll find you some mending and you can sit by the fire for the day. How does that sound?”

“Verra good.”

“I have to check on Mrs. Chisholm, but after that I’ll come back and sit with you. I’ll talk to Lord MacLeod as soon as I get dressed.” Ali didn’t trust herself to confront the priest, not with the look of terror he’d put on Mari’s face. She was afraid she’d put him to the stake herself.

“He’s not here, my lady.”

“What do you mean, he’s not here?”

“He and his men are trainin’ in the glen this morn. He’s to meet with the priest later.”

“Training?”

“Aye, for battle.”

“For God’s sake, does the man have no brains? He was on death’s door less than a week ago and now he’s running—” She cursed.

Mari clapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide as saucers.

Ali grimaced. “Don’t repeat that.”

There was a sharp rap on the door to her chambers and Mari jumped.

“’Tis only me, my lady,” Mrs. Mac said, peeking around the door. Stepping into the room, the older woman’s eyes widened. “Och, now, would you look at that.” She smiled at Mari. “You look bonny, lass.”

“Thank ye.” Mari bobbed her head shyly.

Mrs. Macpherson squinted, looking at the girl more closely. “Ah, I see you’ve heard.”

“About the priest? Yes. I’ve told Mari to stay in my room until I can speak to Lord MacLeod. Which I gather won’t be for some time since the fool’s off playing war games with his men.”

“Lady Aileanna, ’tis no way to speak of yer laird,” the older woman chided.

Ali curled her lip. “He’s not my laird.”

Mrs. Macpherson gave her an odd look before bustling about the room, setting out Ali’s toilette. “I’m goin’ to the village, but the laird has left Connor to see to you, my lady.”

Spy on her more likely, Ali thought. “I have to check on Mrs. Chisholm, but other than that I’ll be staying with Mari.”

“Aye, Maureen’s time is drawin’ near. I’ll leave you to get aboot my business. Remember, my lady, if you need anythin’, yer to ask Connor.” Mrs. Macpherson leveled a pointed look at her before closing the door.

Leaving Ali in no doubt the older woman knew exactly what she was up to.

On the short walk back from Mrs. Chisholm’s with Connor, Ali savored the warmth of sunshine on her face. With her days spent caring for the wounded, she’d had little time to take advantage of the beautiful scenery Dunvegan’s grounds provided. She inhaled the salty tang of sea air and knew if it wasn’t for Mari, shut up in her room, frightened and alone, Ali would have been unable to resist the urge to scramble over the rocky banks to the aquamarine loch where the gulls now played. The birds’ noisy serenade faded into the distance as they came closer to Dunvegan and another sound—a low, ominous chant—reverberated through the air.

Ali stood at the center of the well-worn path, straining to make out the words. “Connor, do you hear that?”

“Nay, I…aye, my lady.” His expression tensed.

The sound seemed to be coming from the inner courtyard of the castle. “What are they saying?”

“Witch.”

Mari.

A feeling of dread tightened in Ali’s chest. She grabbed the boy’s arm. “Connor, you have to get Lord MacLeod. Now!” Not waiting for a response, she took off at a run, cursing when she stumbled on the loose stones beneath her slippered feet. Unable to get enough traction, she bent down and yanked off the impractical shoes.

Connor was looking at her as though she’d lost her mind. “I canna’ do that. I’m to look after ye, my lady,” he said, following close on her heels.

Frustrated at his unwillingness to go against his laird’s directive, Ali bit back a curse, but she had no time to waste arguing with him. She heard the plaintive wail of a young girl and her heart pounded in her ears. Her throat tightened, making breathing painful as she raced toward the courtyard, past the men lining the walls.

Several young children and three serving girls were gathered in a circle, hurling rocks. A faint, pitiful cry was drowned out by their abusive taunts. A short, middle-aged man in voluminous gray robes encouraged them from the sidelines.

“Why aren’t the men doing anything?” she yelled at Connor over her shoulder.

“’Tis on account of the priest. They willna’ stand against him,” he panted, trying to keep up with her.

When a young boy bent down to retrieve more rocks, Ali saw a flash of yellow. “Oh, dear God,” she groaned. “Connor, you have to get Lord MacLeod,” she begged, unable to contain the sob that bubbled up in her throat.

“’Tis Mari,” he croaked. Without further pressure from Ali, he tore from the courtyard in the opposite direction.

“Stop it!” she cried, grabbing a young boy by the scruff of his neck as he resupplied his cache of ammunition.

He looked up at Ali, and his mouth dropped. He released the edges of his grubby white shirt and the rocks tumbled to the ground. Ali shoved aside the children to reach Mari, who was crouched low to the ground, an arm raised to protect her face. Her beautiful gown was in tatters, leaving her half naked, her arms and chest smeared with dirt and blood.

“Mari,” Ali whispered, dropping to her knees beside her. She heard a whizzing sound, then a rock bounced off Ali’s shoulder and grazed her cheek in a stinging blow. She turned to face the crowd that seemed to have doubled in size, like a dark, sinister shadow closing in on them.

Furious, she rose to her feet and stared them down. “Throw one more of those rocks and you’ll answer to your laird. Do you hear me?” Ali prayed she was right and Rory would be as angry with what they’d done as she was. There was a rhythmic thud as one by one the rocks were released from their grimy fingers.

“Nay…nay, they answer to no one save their Lord our God.”

Ali whirled on the speaker. The slight man was all but swallowed up by his gray robes. A thick wooden cross hung around his scrawny neck. A neck Ali was tempted to wring. His pasty white face was pulled into a mask of hate while his black eyes blazed with self-righteous recrimination.

She took a step toward him, trembling with rage. “Their God tells them to do this?” She waved a hand at Mari. “To stone an innocent child to death?”

“She is no’ innocent. The devil’s spawn is what she is. Look at her,” he screeched, reaching for Mari.

Ali put herself between them. The man was a raving lunatic, but he held sway over those gathered at her back—a crowd she knew he could fan into an angry mob with his words. Afraid she would be unable to keep them at bay much longer, Ali backed away before turning to help Mari to her feet. She wrapped an arm around the young girl’s waist to keep her upright. The priest’s bony fingers dug into Ali’s injured shoulder and she bit back a groan of pain. “Get your hands off me,” she growled low in her throat.

Before she could stop him, he wrenched the cap from Mari’s hair. The force of the motion jerked the young girl’s head back and she whimpered in pain, a look of terror on her face.

“Tell me ye doona’ see it now, the devil’s mark—red hair and eyes of two colors.” Spittle ran down his weak chin, and his eyes bulged.

“Don’t touch her,” Ali yelled. Pulling Mari out of his reach, she put up a hand to stop him from coming any closer. He took a step toward them, and his foot caught on the edge of his robe. The crowd gasped when he stumbled, falling to the ground with a resounding thud.

“Yer my witnesses,” he cried from where he lay prone on the cobblestones, pointing a gnarled finger at Ali. “She struck me down in defense of a witch. In the name of the Lord, my Father, I demand ye seize them both.”

Panic threatened to overwhelm her, but Ali forced it down with a vengeance. Fighting to keep Mari close to her side, she pushed past the menacing faces, but it was too late. The crowd came at them as one, sinking their claws into their exposed flesh, tearing at their clothes, their hair.

“No, stop! You have to stop!” she cried when someone wrenched Mari from her arms.

A man loomed over her and everyone else, hauling her to his chest. It was the blond giant she’d saved from choking the night before, but from the look on his face she wasn’t sure if he was friend or foe. He wrenched Mari free from two serving girls before he dragged Ali and her maid along with him. Their feet barely touched the ground. “Doona’ fret. All will be well once the laird comes,” he reassured them quietly. To the crowd he shouted, “Our laird will hear of the priest’s charges upon his return.”

Helped to his feet, the priest brushed off his robes and bellowed his demands after them. “See you lock them away like the criminals they are. Justice will be served this day.”

“Aye,” the man-at-arms muttered. Under his breath he said to Ali, “Emotions run high. ’Twill be safer and appease the old buzzard if I put ye in the dungeons. But doona’ fret, my lady, I’ll see to yer care myself.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, trying with difficulty to keep up with his long strides. Her feet ached, and she left a trail of bloody footprints on the unforgiving stone. But Mari’s condition was worse. She was limp as a rag doll; the man-at-arms all but carried her.

As though sensing Ali’s concern, he reassured her. “As soon as we’re out of their line of sight I’ll carry her, my lady.”

Ali appreciated his kindness, but she couldn’t help but feel it had come too late.

Mari could’ve died. With the thought, Ali’s temper flared. “I can’t believe Lord MacLeod would allow his men to stand back while a child was being abused on his land.”

With a furtive glance over his shoulder, he scooped Mari into his arms and turned to Ali. “He wouldna’ allow it, my lady.”

“But the guards on the wall never did anything and you—”

“I wasna’ here. I had returned to have my wound tended to when I came upon the mob.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” Brow furrowed, she searched for his injury and found the place on his arm where blood stained the fabric just below his shoulder. “Are you sure you can manage?”

“’Tis no’ but a scratch.” He crossed the slate floor, past the hall, barking orders at the servants who darted out of his way. “Bring whatever Lady Aileanna will need to see to the wee lass.” He unhooked a lantern from the wall beside a heavy wooden door and handed it to Ali. The thick oak creaked as he opened it and gestured for her to take the lead.

“Step carefully,” he advised.

She did as he suggested, easing her way down the rough-hewn stone steps. Cool, musty air enveloped her at the foot of the stairs, and she was unable to suppress the shiver that skittered down her spine. He nudged her forward from behind and something brushed the bottom of her gown. Ali screamed, nearly dropping the lantern. “What…what was that?” she croaked.

“Rats,” he murmured. “I’ll send for the cats. The laird should be on his way.”

Ali nodded. She sure as hell hoped so, for both her and Mari’s sake. The man-at-arms propped the girl against his side while he retrieved a key from a heavy iron ring. The barred metal door clanged open, and his mouth flattened as he ushered them inside the four-by-four-foot cell. He gently placed Mari on a rusty old cot.

The girl hadn’t made a sound and Ali was afraid she was in shock. “I’ll need some blankets…”

“Callum. I’ll see to it, my lady. I willna’ be long.”

Ali sat beside Mari, trying to ignore the grating sound of the key turning in the lock. She cupped the girl’s face between her hands and looked into her eyes. “I won’t let anyone else hurt you, Mari. I promise.”

The young girl shuddered. A strangled sob escaped her pale lips, and she threw herself into Ali’s arms.

“There…there, it will be all right.” Ali patted her back, relieved at least to get some sort of reaction from her. She pulled away and rested her hands on Mari’s shoulders. “Let’s have a better look at you.”

Mari tugged self-consciously at the tattered remnants of her beautiful gown. Ali came to her feet. Lifting the bottom of her own gown, she tugged the ruffled underskirt down and stepped out of it, careful not to get any blood on the snowy white flounces.

Mari gasped. “My lady, what are ye doin’?”

“Well, in case Callum has abandoned us, I won’t have you sitting around half naked when Lord MacLeod arrives.”

“Do ye think he’ll come?”

“Of course I do. And when he does, it’ll be that psychopathic priest who’s down here, not us.”

Mari shook her head. “Nay, ’twill no’ happen.”

Ali shrugged. “We’ll see,” she said as she ripped the underskirt in half and draped it over Mari’s shoulders. “Now, do you think you’ve broken anything?” She knelt on the cold, damp floor, carefully running her hands over Mari’s legs.

Mari drew the shawl closed with hands that were scraped raw. “Nay, I hurt is all,” she whimpered.

Ali blinked back tears and hugged Mari to her chest, knowing the young girl hurt as deeply in her heart as she did in her body. Ali vowed the priest would pay for what he’d done. Somehow she’d make sure of it.

“I’ll have to wait until Callum comes back before I can see to your cuts.” Scanning the dimly lit dungeon, she was thankful the lantern provided as little light as it did. She could hear the unmistakable sound of rats scurrying in the dark corners. Ali pushed herself to her feet and took a seat beside Mari. She pulled the young girl into a tight embrace and leaned against the wall. She tried to ignore the slimy dampness that seeped through the fabric of her gown.

Ali longed for the comfort and safety of her cozy apartment, the chance to curl up on her couch with a good book and a cup of coffee after a long, hot shower. She swallowed a heartfelt moan. If only she’d found that damn fairy flag.
But then you wouldn’t have been there to protect Mari,
the voice in her head reminded her. Ali shuddered, not wanting to think about what might have happened if she hadn’t been there to intervene.

The sound of feet thudding on the floor above their heads and a familiar deep voice issuing orders caused Ali’s heart to quicken. She squeezed Mari’s hand. “It’ll be all right now.”

She heard the door leading to the dungeon crash open and the thunder of footsteps on the stone steps. And then he was there, standing in front of her, big and powerful. His raven black hair was slicked back from his handsome face. His white shirt was open almost to his waist. Sweat beaded on his sun-bronzed chest. She drew her eyes back to his face, to where a muscle pulsated in his clenched jaw.

“Open the bloody door,” he shouted over his shoulder.

From amongst the men crowded behind Rory—Fergus, Iain, and Connor included—Callum stepped forward and ducked his head. He fumbled with the key as he tried to fit it into the lock. Ali wanted to tell Rory not to be angry at the blond giant. If not for him, she didn’t know what would have happened to her and Mari. But the look in Rory’s eyes when they met hers stopped her cold. Anger reverberated from him as he strode into the cell, and Ali shrank away from him.

He crouched in front of Mari and quickly took in her condition. “Let’s get you out of here.” He tucked the lacy fabric around her. Brow furrowed, he slanted a look at Ali, and something flickered in his piercing green eyes. He reached out and skimmed his knuckle along Ali’s cheek. “Yer all right?” he asked, his voice gruff.

Their eyes locked, oblivious to anyone else in the room. Her throat went dry, and she was unable to draw her gaze from his.

Rory quickly lowered his hand to his side, resisting the urge to take Aileanna into his arms, to run his hands over her soft, sweet-smelling skin and see how badly she had been injured.

He scooped Mari into his arms and strode from the cell. He caught Iain’s eye and jerked his head toward Aileanna. Iain nodded and along with Fergus, escorted her from the cell, each taking a firm hold of her. Rory wasn’t certain if he did it to protect her, or the priest. Both Connor and Callum had told him how she’d leaped into the fray in order to protect the young maid, without regard for her own safety. His admiration for her only served to inflame the desire he tried so hard to deny.

But it would be difficult to defend her against the priest’s charges if she went after him again, and Rory had no doubt that was exactly what would happen if the two crossed paths before he could intervene. He understood her anger. He’d been hard-pressed when he encountered the man not to beat him to a bloody pulp.

Mari stiffened in his arms when the bellows of the priest, coming from the tower above them, reached her ears. “Shh, he canna’ hurt you, Mari. I willna’ allow it,” he soothed the young girl. She seemed to relax, but his words didn’t have the same effect on the woman cursing behind him.