Debbie Mazzuca Bundle (24 page)

The old goat had the nerve to grin at Aileanna’s pronouncement, and Rory was forced to follow in their wake like a minion in their service. He stifled a growl as his brother and Fergus took her in their arms as he longed to, and cooled his heels while Mrs. Mac and Mari happily welcomed her home.

Their greeting of the MacDonald was more subdued, but politely made. All except Fergus, who genuinely liked the man. The two had developed something of a friendship upon Rory’s marriage to Brianna, and it was obvious it still endured as they clapped each other on the back on the way into the keep.

Rory nudged his cousin, who’d been watching the proceedings with an amused eye. “It looks like ye’ll be doin’ some negotiatin’ after all.” Aidan grinned.

“Aye, and it would be best if I kent just what Aileanna’s been sayin’ before sittin’ down with the mon. I ken he’s no’ anxious to let her out of his sight so I’ll need yer help. Challenge him to a game of chess. He’ll no’ be able to resist and ’twill give me time to speak to Aileanna alone.”

Aidan raised a brow. “Aye, I’ll do it fer ye, cousin, to give ye and yer lady a chance to
talk
.”

The small contingent that accompanied the MacDonald had entered the hall before Rory caught up to Aileanna and Alasdair. “Why doona’ we retire to the upper salon, Alasdair, and yer men can take their leisure in the hall. We’ll rejoin them at the evenin’ meal.”

“I’m in the mood fer a game of chess. Would anyone care to join me?” his cousin asked.

Alasdair’s gaze flickered over Rory, and then back to Aileanna. A slight smile caused his mustache to twitch. “I’d be up fer a game. Fergus?”

“Aye, I ken the last time we played you beat me, so ’tis time for a rematch.” As soon as the words were out of Fergus’s mouth, Rory knew he regretted them. The last time they’d played it was a means to distract themselves on the long days leading up to Brianna’s death.

“Will ye be joinin’ us, my pet?” Alasdair asked Aileanna, his gaze softening.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to freshen up first.”

“Aye.” He patted her cheek. “And have a wee rest while yer at it. A ride like that takes a lot out of a person, especially one as delicate as yerself.”

Rory managed to stifle his shout of laughter, but Iain, Aidan, and Fergus were not as successful. Aileanna glared at them before she reached up to give the old goat a kiss on the cheek. “Make sure you beat them, Alasdair, for me. I’ll see you at dinner.”

“Aye, my pet, I will. Rory, will you no’ be joinin’ us?” Alasdair gave him an intent look.

Rory clenched his teeth. The arrogant old fool would be the death of him, especially if he continued to fawn over Aileanna as though he had the right. “Aye, but first I have a couple of matters that require my attention. Aileanna.” He offered her his arm. “I’ll see you to yer chambers.”

She took his arm, making an obvious effort not to smile. “Am I one of those matters you have to see to?” she asked when they were well out of earshot at the top of the stairs.

“Aye, the only matter I wish to see to,” he growled. Tugging her into his arms, he lowered his mouth to hers. Desire flared within him as once more he held her lush curves next to him. At her eager response, he deepened the kiss. She moaned, parting her lips to allow his tongue to tangle with hers. Her arms wound around his neck, and he gripped the round firmness of her behind. Lifting her off her feet, he backed her against the wall. He ground his cock into the soft curve of her belly.

At the sound of footfalls on the staircase, Rory cursed under his breath and broke their kiss.

Mrs. Mac approached with a handful of fresh linens. “Och, there you are. I was wonderin’ where you’d be wantin’ me to put his lordship.”

Rory swept Aileanna into his arms, turning his back to Mrs. Mac so she wouldn’t see his raging cock-stand or Aileanna’s flushed face and passion-filled eyes. Just as he was about to tell her exactly where he wanted Alasdair, the woman in his arms took hold of his shoulder and pulled herself up to say, “Why don’t you put him in Brianna’s room, Mrs. Mac? It might be nice for him to be surrounded by some of his daughter’s things.”

“’Tis a wonderful idea, my lady.”

“Wonderful, just bloody wonderful,” Rory muttered as he strode along the corridor toward Aileanna’s room.

She frowned at him. “What’s wrong with putting him in Brianna’s room?”

“What’s wrong is by doin’ that”—he shoved open the door to her room—“yer puttin’ him in the room next to mine.”

She rolled her eyes. “Rory, it’s not like you’re sleeping in the same room with the man. You have a door between the two of you.”

He set her down on the edge of the bed. “Aye, there is, but the mon will ken when I’m comin’ and goin’.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

He shook his head, carefully removing the boots from her feet. “Think on it, Aileanna. He’ll ken when I creep back to my bed after bein’ with you.”

“He’ll just think you had business to take care of.”

He snorted. “The mon’s no fool.”

“Funny, you keep saying he is.”

Rory sat back on his haunches and looked into her beautiful face. “Are you tryin’ to make me daft, mo chridhe?” he asked, stroking her smooth, bare legs beneath the plaid.

“No.” She gave him a slow, sensual smile before she ran the tip of her pale pink tongue along her full lower lip.

“I ken what I wear under my plaid, but what do you wear?” His voice was low and gruff as he smoothed his palms along the warm, satiny skin of her inner thighs.

“Nothing,” she whispered. Her eyelids fluttered closed, her legs parting ever so slightly. He bunched the fabric to her thighs and tangled his finger in her silky curls, stroking her slick, wet folds. She leaned back on her hands, her hips arched, and he knew he wanted her naked and on the bed beneath him—now.

Kissing her knee, he rose to his feet. “I think I’ll have you dress in a plaid more often, mo chridhe, but it will be MacLeod plaid, no’ MacDonald. But right now, I need you out of this so I can show you just how much I missed you.” He tugged the swath of fabric from her shoulder.

She slapped his hands away. “You’re too rough. You’ll rip it.”

He shrugged, watching as she carefully unraveled the plaid. “I doona’ care—you’ll no’ be wearin’ it again.”

“Yes, I will. I like the colors. They’re pretty.”

“They may be pretty, but they’re the MacDonalds’ colors no’ the MacLeods’.”

She laid the plaid on the end of her bed, standing before him in only a sheer linen tunic. Her nipples puckered beneath the fabric, ripe for his attention. “I’m not a MacLeod, Rory, and I can wear whatever I want,” she countered with a stubborn jut to her chin.

“Yer mine, and you
will
be a MacLeod.” He held her in his arms and lifted her off the floor. “Do you ken yer mine, mo chridhe? That I’ll never let you go?” Through the lightweight fabric he suckled her taut nipple.

“Yes…yes, I know I’m yours,” she groaned, wrapping her legs around his waist.

He could feel her warm, wet core through the fabric of his tunic and his cock throbbed. She pressed her breasts tight to his mouth. He fought with his trews while he held her with one hand, needing to be inside her.

A sharp rap on the door stayed his hand, and he cursed when he recognized the deep voice calling through her door. “Lass, can I have a moment of yer time?”

A look of panic came upon Aileanna’s face and she struggled to get out of his arms. “Put me down…put me down,” she whispered fervently.

“Mayhap I would if you’d unwind yer legs from my waist,” he whispered back, his voice laden with sarcasm.

She glared at him, then cleared her throat. “Give me a minute, Alasdair. I’m not quite decent.”

“That’s the truth,” Rory muttered.

She grabbed the plaid from the end of her bed and hastily tried to wrap herself in it. “Hide,” she hissed at him.

“I’m no’ hidin’ in my own keep,” he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

“He was your wife’s father, and I’m not going to flaunt that we’re together like…like this.” She waved an arm at the bed before her gaze frantically searched the room. “Bed…under the bed.”

“Coming, Alasdair,” she called out sweetly as she shoved him toward the bed and tugged at the plaid to cover the wet spot on her tunic.

“You would’ve and so would’ve I,” he muttered to himself as he crawled beneath the bed.

“Shh!”

He heard her pad across the floor and the door creak open. He couldn’t believe he was hiding from Alasdair MacDonald like a wee lad, but Aileanna was right. He’d not rub the mon’s nose in their relationship.

“Sorry fer disturbin’ ye, my pet, but there’s somethin’ been weighin’ on my mind since we arrived.”

“Come in.” Rory heard the door close and Alasdair’s heavy footfalls as he came into the room.

“Has someone said anything to make you feel unwelcome, because if they—”

Rory rolled his eyes. Now she protected his enemy.

“Nay…nay, ’tis no’ to do with the MacLeods. Get into yer bed. Ye must rest yer wee foot.”

The bed creaked and the toes of Alasdair’s boots stared Rory in the face. He barely resisted the urge to hit them.

“Alasdair, I’m fine,” he heard Aileanna laughingly protest. Rory’s fist came within an inch of the old man’s foot. “Now tell me what’s bothering you. You look upset.”

“Ye ken when I first saw ye I was no’ myself and ye introduced yerself as Ali Graham.” She must have nodded because Alasdair continued. “But upon our arrival I heard Rory refer to ye as Aileanna. Why is that?”

“That’s my name. Ali is short for Aileanna. Alasdair…Alasdair, what is it?”

The man staggered and Aileanna must have made him sit down because the bed dipped, and Rory now faced the heels of Alasdair’s boots.

“Ye remember how I told ye Brianna had a sister, a twin? Her name was Aileanna. Nay, doona’ look at me like that. Ye ken well enough how much ye look like Brianna, but even more ye have the look of my wife. Ye have her ways, too, and yer name—’tis too much to be only a coincidence.”

Rory sucked in a pained breath and nearly choked on the dust beneath the bed. He brought his hand to his mouth. Alasdair MacDonald had his faults, but he’d lost much and handled it better than most. Rory didn’t wish him to suffer further, and he knew how difficult it would be on Aileanna. But she wouldn’t lie to the man, even if it was to ease his pain. She was honest and compassionate, and somehow he knew Aileanna would find a way to relieve Alasdair’s disappointment.

“Alasdair, you have to believe me when I tell you there is nothing I’d like more than to be your daughter, but I’m afraid I’m not.” She paused, and Rory could almost hear the wheels turning in her head as she planned out her wee story. It was not as if she could tell him the fairies had stolen her from her own time. “I told you I never met my father, and that’s the truth, but my mother spoke of him often. She said he was from…from England, and he had…red hair…red like an apple, and…”

Bloody hell,
Rory thought.
She’s rambling again.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, Alasdair.” Rory heard the raw emotion in her voice and he thought she was just as disappointed as Alasdair, even though she’d know there was no way the old man could be her father. Rory had sensed when she spoke to him about her life that she’d missed out on having a family, and it had left her deeply scarred. It was something he hoped to rectify by making her his wife, part of his clan.

“Nay, ’twas only the hopes of an old man. I’m sorry, Aileanna. Ye get some rest now, lass, and I’ll see ye later.”

He heard Aileanna sniff, and groaned inwardly. There was nothing he hated more than when she cried.

“Now, I didna’ mean to make ye weep. Dry yer eyes—there ye go. Doona’ worry, my pet, I’ll be fine. I’ll see myself out.”

At the sound of the door closing, Rory began dragging himself from beneath the bed. When it slowly creaked open again, he cursed inwardly and scrambled back to his hiding place, cracking his head on the rail as he did.

“Aileanna?”

“Yes?” She sniffed.

“I’m thinkin’ yer in need of a father, seein’ as how yer tangled up with the MacLeods. And since ye have the look and name of one of my own, I’m goin’ to be lookin’ to ye as though ye are. If that’d be all right with ye.”

“Yes…yes, that would be wonderful.”

No…no, it won’t!
Rory silently banged his head on the floor.

“Good, ’tis settled then. And, Aileanna, tell the lad I ken he’s under the bed and I expect to see him in the salon momentarily.” With that said, the old meddler slammed the door.

Rory stood, rubbing his head. “What do you think yer doin’ tellin’ him he can stand in fer yer father? Do ye no’ ken what that mon will put me through?”

She shrugged. “It made him happy, and I think it will be nice to have someone stand up for me.”

He snorted. “As if you canna’ stand up fer yerself. And if you couldna’, Fergus, Iain, and Mrs. Mac would be quick to do so.”

“I know, and now I have Alasdair, too. It won’t be so bad, Rory. Can’t you humor him, just a little?”

He looked at Aileanna, her bonny eyes shining, and thought if it pleased her, the least he could do was try. If she could bring a little joy to the MacDonald’s life, so be it. “I’ll no’ make any promises, but fer now we’ll let it be, as long as you remember yer no’ a MacDonald, yer a MacLeod.”

“Not yet I’m not.” She grinned.

“Aye. Yer mine, and well you ken it.” He threaded his fingers through her hair and took her lips in a deep, slow kiss, savoring the taste of her.

“Rory,” she said against his mouth. He pulled back to look at her. “I don’t think Alasdair…my father will be too happy if you don’t join him in the salon.” He heard the laughter in her voice, saw the mischievous light in her eyes.

He gave her one last hard kiss. “Yer as stubborn as he is. I shouldna’ be surprised if you truly are his kin.”

“Rory,” she called to him as he strode to the door. “I’m glad to be home.”

Her words touched Rory deeply, and it made him more determined than ever to make her his wife. “No more than I am, mo chridhe.”

Ali took her place on the dais between Rory and Alasdair, saying hello to Aidan, Fergus, and Iain, who looked like they shared a good joke no one else was privy to. She narrowed her gaze on them, and looked to the two men on either side of her. “Is there something I should know?”