Debbie Mazzuca Bundle (23 page)

His jaw hardened. “If no’ fer him my daughter would be alive.”

“What are you saying? Rory would never have hurt his wife, not intentionally. He tried to do whatever he could to save her.” She touched his big hand. “Her death and the baby’s still affect him. I saw it not long ago when I helped a woman with her delivery. He hasn’t gotten over it, Lord MacDonald. He still feels guilty.”

“Aye, and so he should. My daughter was no’ strong from birth. ’Twas her sister who was the strong one.” A gentle smile curved his lips, fading when he continued. “He shouldna’ have forced her to have a bairn. Him and his godforsaken clan wanted a babe to carry on the MacLeod name. He could’ve left it to his brother.”

Heat rushed to Ali’s face. She didn’t want to have this conversation with Brianna’s father, but no matter how uncomfortable it made her, she would. If there was even the slightest chance she could change the course of the feud, she’d take it. “Have you ever stopped to consider that your daughter knew her time was short and wanted to give Rory something to remember her by?”

He turned away from her, his voice gruff when he asked, “Why would ye think that?”

“I’m a healer, Lord MacDonald, and it’s been my experience that sometimes people have a sense of their impending death. I don’t know all there is to know about your daughter’s medical history, but if this was a condition she had since birth, then you were blessed to have her as long as you did. You must have taken wonderful care of her.”

He swiped at his eyes. “When I lost her mother and her wee sister she was all I had left.”

“She was very lucky to have you. I envy her that.” She gave him a watery smile.

“We’re a pair, aren’t we?” He squeezed her hand. “Ye bed down in my tent and we’ll talk on the morrow.”

“Lord MacDonald, would you send a message to Rory and tell him I’m safe here with you?”

“Aye, at first light. Ye ken I’ll no use ye in the feud, lass. I’ll no’ have ye suffer. But…” He hesitated, watching her closely. “Ye’d be welcomed at Armadale by me and my clan if after the battle ye wish to return home with me.”

“Thank you. Is it because I remind you of your daughter?” she asked quietly. It was ridiculous, but she hoped not. Ever since coming to Dunvegan she’d been compared to Brianna, and grew weary of being wanted only because she so closely resembled someone they had all once loved.

“Aye, ye do remind me of her. Although I ken yer no’ like her, ye’ve lightened my heart this night and I thank ye fer that. Ye canna’ blame an old man fer wantin’ to keep ye around, now ken ye?”

“If you and the MacLeods weren’t feuding, maybe we could visit one another.”

He quirked a brow. “I knew where ye were headed all along, lass. I just didna’ ken how long it would take ye to get there. In that yer like my wife. She hated the constant feudin’. ’Tis why I think she left me that night, takin’ my other daughter and runnin’ off. If Brianna wasna’ so sickly as a bairn, I’m certain she would’ve taken her as well.”

“You never found them?”

“Nay. Searched for years until I realized ’twas hurtin’ Brianna.”

“I’m sorry.” She squeezed his hand.

“Sleep well, my pet. On the morrow we’ll talk.” He laughed when she gave him a hopeful smile.

“I’m no’ makin’ any promises.”

Rory sagged with relief in his chair, handing the parchment across the desk to his brother. “He has Aileanna, says she’s well, but he will 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 all atwitter 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 all 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 responsibilities, but I do understand, and mayhap you will 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 hell, what just happened here?” Rory grumbled. Leaning back in his chair, he rubbed the stubble along his jaw.

“We all 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 all.”

Rory rolled 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 tell 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 MacDonald. 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 pulled her to her feet. “I’ll 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 milling 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 will bother ye, lass.” He unsheathed his sword with a smile. “I’d no’ allow it. I’ll 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 knowledge she would soon be back with him was heartening, but only if she didn’t think of how little time they’d have together 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’ll be right there.” Ali paddled to shore. She quickly dried off and began to dress. She pulled the crisp white shirt over her head—it fell 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 all.”

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 will 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’ll no’ be leavin’ till the morrow. Ye had a rough go of it. I’ll 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, calling 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 kill 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 will 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’ll just come visit you.”

Alasdair chuckled. “I’m certain that will please him to no end. Ye do ken, my pet, ’twill 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 Connor.

“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 practically 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’ll 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 man-at-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 really necessary, do you?”

“Aye, my pet, I do. Look to the men linin’ the walls.”

She looked to where he pointed and swallowed hard. Bows were aimed in their direction. “No, there must be some mistake. Rory would never allow 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 quelling look over his shoulder. “Lower yer bows,” Rory commanded down the line. The show was over. He wouldn’t allow 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 well, cousin, or yer lady may no’ be as welcomin’ as ye hoped.”

Fergus, Iain, and his cousin shared a laugh, but all fell 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 brilliant 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 well, 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’ll 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 well-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 allowance 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 honorable man, and although he’d never let the old goat know it, he had a great deal of respect for him.

“Will 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.”