Debbie Mazzuca Bundle (8 page)

“This is a farce, and I can’t believe you’re allowing it.”

“Sit down. Now,” Rory growled from between clenched teeth. The bloody woman would undermine him in front of his clan if he was not careful.

“Harrumph.” She sat back down on the bench, folding her arms across her bountiful chest, and gave him a damning look.

The priest sneered at her, and Rory expelled a sigh of relief when Iain grabbed her before she went after the man. His brother leaned over and quietly spoke to her before rising to his feet.

Iain held out his hand to the wee lass. “Mari, come here, please.”

Aileanna urged her to her feet.

Noting the curled fist at his brother’s side, Rory hid a smile of satisfaction behind his hand. Iain turned the girl to face the gathered crowd and looked directly at the priest. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but ’tis my understandin’ that no one who is possessed of the devil would be able to come in contact with a cross, and if it was metal it would surely burn them.”

“Well, aye, but—” The priest’s eyes widened when Iain removed a silver cross from his hand and placed it around the lass’s neck. For added effect, he had her bring it to her lips.

“I would say that’s all the evidence we need. But perhaps we should simply ask Mari.” Rory raised his voice to be heard above the din of voices in the hall. “Are you a witch, lass?”

“Nay.” She shook her head vehemently.

“In league with the devil?”

“Nay, my laird.”

“Thank you, Mari, you may take yer seat.”

Iain guided her back to the bench and Aileanna wrapped Mari in her arms while the lass sobbed quietly. Rory met her gaze above Mari’s head. The smile curving her soft pink lips and the look of gratitude in her sapphire eyes stoked the flame of desire that had simmered inside of him since the moment she’d walked into the hall.

Determined to dampen the fire that threatened to engulf him, he tried to draw forth an image of Brianna, but all he managed to conjure of her was an intangible wisp of memory. Guilt ate at him. He was beginning to forget, and all because of her, the woman who sat in front of him. He’d made a promise on Brianna’s deathbed that no other would take her place. He’d meant it then, as he did now. Rory turned his attention from her to the priest.

The man was scarlet with pent-up fury. “What of her?” He pointed a gnarled finger at Aileanna. “I demand she be punished or I shall go to the king.”

Rory leaned forward. “Do you threaten me, Priest?”

“Nay…nay, but ye must—”

“What I must do is get at the truth.”

Mrs. Mac relieved Aileanna of the burden of Mari. The woman looked like she prepared for battle.

God help him
.

“She struck me down. There are witnesses.”

“None who have come forward,” Rory commented dryly.

“Surely ye jest.”

“Yer callin’ me a liar, are you?” Rory kept his voice quiet, dangerously so.

“Nay, but—”

“There’s only one person who is lying and that is you.” Once again, Aileanna was on her feet, ducking beneath Fergus’s outstretched arm she crossed to the priest before anyone could stop her, and grabbed the hem of his gown. “He caught his foot…see, right there.” She pointed to the tear at the bottom of his robes. A tear the priest was doing his best to conceal. “That’s why he fell. I didn’t push him. Although I was tempted to.” She said the last under her breath.

Rory jerked his head at some of his men to take up their positions amongst the crowd, afraid the excited chatter would soon turn ugly.

“Blasphemy. Laird MacLeod, I demand this woman be made to pay fer her sins.”

“Be quiet. Lady Aileanna, are you sayin’ you didna’ push the priest?”

She gave a curt nod. “I didn’t. He fell because he’d worked himself into a frenzy and his robes are too long.” She turned her head and gave the priest a look of condemnation. “Perhaps God was punishing him for encouraging others to harm an innocent child.”

Bloody hell.
She surely would be the death of him. The priest looked about to have an apoplexy. The crowd was stunned into silence.

“Someone must have been a witness to this.”

“Aye, Laird MacLeod, it is as Lady Aileanna says.” Callum, the blond giant, lied through his teeth. He flushed under Rory’s scrutiny.

“Lady Aileanna speaks the truth, my lord,” Mari bravely added.

From the back, Rory saw a flash of movement. Janet Cameron pushed her son forward. The lad was all of about eight. “Ye tell yer laird what ye told me,” she admonished him.

The boy stumbled toward the front of the hall.

“What’s yer name, lad?”

“Jamie. Jamie Cameron,” he mumbled, glancing back at his mother, who glared at him, arms crossed over her heaving chest.

Rory closed his eyes at the memory of the battle where the lad’s da had lost his life. He released a weary sigh. Cameron had fought hard and died honorably earlier that year. He gentled his voice. “And what is it you have to tell me, young Jamie?”

“The lady didna’ trip the priest. She held her hand like so.” He demonstrated the defensive posture with his own wee hand. “To protect the maid, and then he fell.” He lowered his head, casting a sidelong glance at Mari. He let out a pained breath, and once again looked over his shoulder at his mother. She jerked her head toward Mari. He shuffled his feet, then directed his full attention to the lass. “I’m sorry fer throwin’ the rocks at ye.”

The young maid’s eyes widened. She flushed, then smiled at the boy. “Thank ye,” she said, blinking back tears.

Rory noted Aileanna swipe at her own cheek, then squeeze Mari’s hand.

“Jamie, yer a verra brave lad to come forward. Just like yer father, and I willna forget it. Yer mother’s done a fine job with you, lad. When yer old enough, I’d be as honored to have you fight at my side as I was to have yer father.” The boy beamed at his words.

Out of the corner of his eye Rory saw Robert Chisholm come forward and whisper something in Aileanna’s ear. She started to rise, then looked at Rory. He nodded when he realized Maureen’s time must have come. Anytime a woman of Dunvegan was about to deliver, Rory battled his fears, praying no other would suffer as he had. He was thankful Maureen would have Aileanna to see to her. His gaze followed them as they left the hall.

“What…ye canna’ mean to let her get away with this?”

“Were you no’ listenin’?”

“But I am a man of God.”

“Aye, but that didna’ stop you from trippin’ over yer own two feet.” He ignored the snickers his words drew and continued. “In the future I would suggest you be verra careful before you bring charges against another. Yer welcome to join us fer the evenin’ meal, and then my men will see you to wherever it is you travel.”

The priest dropped onto the bench with a thump, no longer surrounded by supporters. He looked around him and turned back to Rory. “I have matters elsewhere that require my attention. I shall leave now.”

“My men will be ready to escort you shortly.”

Ali laid the bundled baby into his mother’s arms. “He’s beautiful, Maureen, and very healthy.” The look of pure joy on the woman’s face wiped away Ali’s exhaustion.

“Thank ye, Lady Aileanna. Thank ye fer all ye’ve done.”

Ali smiled and patted Maureen Chisholm’s arm. “I didn’t do a thing. You were the one who did all the work.”

“I was verra scared and ye took my fears away. I’ll no’ forget ye fer that.”

“It was my pleasure. Now I think his father’s waited long enough, don’t you? I’ll tell him to come in and I’ll see you first thing in the morning. Get some rest.”

As the door to the tiny thatched cottage squeaked open, two men straightened from where they leaned against an old, battered oak tree. A half moon hung overhead, casting a glimmer of light on the men’s shadowed faces. Her heartbeat quickened at the sight of Rory, her body’s response to him immediate. She tried to ignore the implications, to pretend her reaction was no different than any woman’s would be to a man as powerful and as gorgeous as the Laird of Dunvegan. But she didn’t need the voice in her head to tell her she was full of it.

Everything she’d witnessed in the hall earlier that day had proven to her beyond a shadow of a doubt that this was one man worthy of not only a woman’s love, but her respect as well. His strength of character, the fairness of his judgment—although she’d doubted it in the beginning—and the depth of loyalty he garnered from his clan all bore witness to that. She envied Brianna MacLeod more than she cared to admit. Envied the love they had shared—a love worthy of a romance novel, and she should know—she’d read enough of them.

One day, if she was lucky enough to find her own hero, he’d be a very tarnished version of Rory MacLeod. They didn’t make men like him anymore. Drew Sanderson, her slimeball of an ex-boyfriend, was proof of that. The man was nothing like Rory, nor were any of the others she’d dated before him. And that said a lot about what her love life would be like once she got back to the twenty-first century.

She shoved her thoughts aside and took a step toward Robert Chisholm. “Your wife and son are waiting for you.” A big grin creased his craggy face.

Rory clapped a hand on his friend’s back. “Go to Maureen and the bairn. I’ll see you on the morrow.”

“Aye, I’ll do that.” Robert clasped Ali’s hands with his. “I canna’ thank ye enough, Lady Aileanna.”

“There’s no need. Your wife did all the work. He’s lovely, and they’re both doing well,” she reassured the proud father. “I told Maureen I’d stop by in the morning, so I’ll see you then.” A cry that sounded like a little lamb came from within the cottage and they laughed. “I think your son is impatient to meet you.”

With one more squeeze of her hands, Robert released her, ducking his head before entering the cottage.

A breeze wafted off the loch, rustling the trees, tugging at the cap on Ali’s head. She scratched beneath the stupid piece of fabric Mrs. Mac had insisted she wear. Damp and hot, her head itched after the hours she’d spent closed up in the cottage with the blazing fire Robert had insisted upon. The smoky scent of peat clung to her clothes.

She heard Rory’s chuckle rumble deep in his chest and looked over to where he stood watching her. “I’m surprised yer still wearin’ the cap. I didna’ think ’twas one of yer favorites.”

She snorted. “It’s not, but Mrs. Mac didn’t give me much choice in the matter.”

Rory pushed away from the tree and seemed to hesitate before he came to her side. He looked down at her. “You can take it off, Aileanna. The priest is gone,” he said quietly.

“Thank God. Mari will be relieved.” She grimaced, pulling out the pins that dug into her scalp.

“Aye, and you?” He lifted his hand as though to help her, but then let it drop to his side.

“Of course. The man is crazy.” The cap finally free, she tugged it from her head. “Uhmm, that feels so good,” she murmured, closing her eyes as she combed her fingers through her hair. When she opened them, she saw that Rory watched her with a pained expression on his face.

She frowned. “Is something wrong?”

“Nay…nay. I’ll see you home.” His tone was gruff.

“Oh, I didn’t…you didn’t have to come for me. It’s light enough to make my way back on my own.”

“You were no’ the only reason I came, Aileanna.” Her name rolled off his tongue in a low, smooth rumble that caused her toes to curl. “I thought I should be here fer Robert, in case…” He closed his mouth, his lips drawn in a thin, tight line. Tilting his head back, he squinted up at the stars that twinkled overhead.

It took a moment for Ali to realize what he meant, and when she did her heart ached for him. “Oh, Rory.” She squeezed his arm. “Maureen and the baby are fine. They were at very low risk for anything to go wrong.”

His eyes searched her face, and then he shrugged. “I ken it.”

“I’m sure it’s difficult for you. Would it help to talk about it?”

“Nay, it willna’ do any good. I canna’ bring her back.”

“No, but sometimes talking can help.” Her voice trailed off. His beautiful face was set in hard, razor-sharp edges. She thought she’d pushed too far and was surprised when his deep voice filled the silence.

“’Twas my fault. I should never have allowed her to get with child in the first place. She was too fragile, too small.”

“Rory, don’t blame yourself. Women of all shapes and sizes have babies all the time. Sometimes these things just happen, and it doesn’t matter whether a woman is delicate or not.”

“Nay, Brianna was no’ like you. She—”

Ali couldn’t help but feel a pinch of hurt at his words. “Yes, I know, you’ve mentioned that before.” It was difficult being compared to his wife and found wanting. A woman he loved even now. Not that it should bother her. She didn’t love him, didn’t want him to love her. She smothered the little voice in her head before it could call her a liar and make her face things she had no intention of facing.

He raised a brow; the corner of his mouth twitched. “Nay, you misunderstand me, Aileanna. Yer strong and healthy. Brianna never was. She wanted to give me a bairn and I couldna’ refuse her. I should have. I had a physician come from Edinburgh, but he could do nothin’. ’Twas her heart that gave way. Neither she nor the bairn had a chance.”

Ali blinked back the moisture that gathered in her eyes. Even after two years, his pain was palpable. It lay thick and heavy between them. She cleared the emotion from her throat. “I’m sorry.”

“Come.” He held out his hand. “You’ll catch a chill.”

She hesitated before placing her hand into the warmth of his. He captured her fingers in his firm grip. They were rough and calloused, and she remembered how they felt skimming over her body when he’d caressed her that first night.
When he thought you were his wife,
she reminded herself. A poor substitute for the woman he adored. Preoccupied, she forgot to pay attention as they walked along the path to Dunvegan and stepped on a sharp-edged rock that pierced her slippers and her still-sore feet.

She stifled a cry of pain. Rory, as though sensing her distress, turned to look at her. “It’s nothing. I’m fine…go.” She jerked her head in the direction of the castle.