Debbie Mazzuca Bundle (28 page)

“’Tis no myth. The fairies exist,” the lad mumbled, shifting uncomfortably on the bench.

“Have ye gone mad, brother?” Aidan was angrier than Rory had ever seen him and he laid a hand on his cousin’s shoulder to calm him. Although he knew better than anyone that the flag was no myth, he had a hard time believing the fairies still existed in this time. But he wouldn’t hurt the lad’s feelings by saying so. For a fleeting moment he wanted to hold on to Lan’s belief, but was quick to brush it aside as foolishness. The only magick that existed was in the flag, and without another wish, he had nothing.

Lan flushed crimson. “I ken they do. I’ve heard them.”

“When, Lan? When did you hear them?” Rory heard the desperation in his own voice, a slippery thread of excitement that vanished as soon as he saw the look of disbelief in the eyes of Fergus, Aidan, and Iain.

“When I was a bairn I heard them. They came to me in my dreams.” Lan flushed to the roots of his fair hair. His forehead beaded with sweat. Rory felt sorry for the lad. The only reason his cousin had made mention of the fairies was to offer Rory some hope, risking ridicule to do so.

Aidan slammed his hand on the arm of his chair. “’Tis the old crone that looked after ye when ye were a bairn that turned yer head. No more talk of fairies, brother, or I’ll lock ye away.”

“You send fer me if he does, Lan, and I’ll bring you back to Dunvegan with me. I appreciate yer tellin’ me aboot the fairies. If you hear them again, be sure to make mention of…” He hesitated, not certain he could say her name aloud without unleashing the emotions he’d locked away. He swallowed hard. “Aileanna.” He ruffled his young cousin’s hair when he nodded shyly.

Rory looked at Fergus. “Tell the men we leave on the morrow.”

Rory bowed his head as the boats approached the shores of Dunvegan, unable to look upon the flag that fluttered on top of the tower. Emotions warred within him, and he battled an urge to set sail in the opposite direction, but he couldn’t—not yet.

The excited chatter of his men grew the closer they got to Dunvegan. Rory felt a twinge of guilt for keeping them away as long as he had. It hadn’t been warranted. They could’ve returned weeks ago, and he should’ve sent Fergus and Iain back to Dunvegan with the men. But they refused to leave him, too afraid he’d go too far in battle, risk too much. Maybe they were right. Maybe he would have.

“Are you all right, brother?” Iain asked from where he sat in the boat behind Rory.

Both Iain and Fergus had cut him a wide berth on the way back. He didn’t blame them. He wasn’t fit for company.

A sorry lot they must have looked as they left the boats on shore and walked along the path to the keep. Lord knew they should be bellowing out their triumph. They’d pushed the adventurers back to lick their wounds, and the MacLeods had lost no one to the enemy’s swords.

“I’ll be fine, Iain, but I’m thinkin’ of goin’ to court fer a time. Mayhap I can do some good there fer Aidan and Lachlan, and it would no’ hurt our cause either.”

“Aye…aye, if that’s what you need to do.”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw the look his brother shared with Fergus. He ignored them. The emotional turmoil of coming home was taking its toll, and he was anxious for his bed.

He looked up to see Mrs. Mac cross the courtyard to greet them. She was flanked by Janet, Maureen, Mari, and old lady Cameron. The women looked none too happy. Rory sighed. It would be awhile before he saw his bed.

He glanced at Fergus and Iain. “Bloody hell, what have we come home to?”

“I doona’ ken, but they look plenty fashed at you, lad,” Fergus said, watching as the women drew near.

“Ladies, is there a problem?” They crossed their arms and glared at him. “Since I’ve just come home, I doona’ ken what I coulda’ done wrong.”

“Why did you no’ bring our lady home?”

Rory blanched, a tight pressure building in his chest. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Mac. I didna’ make it back in time.”

“Och, and what does that have to do with it? All this time her bein’ at Armadale and no’ with us. ’Tis no’ right. Get yer horse and go and get her.”

The emotion was so thick in his throat he could barely get the words out. “Mrs. Mac, she’s no’ at Armadale.” He pulled her aside and lowered his voice. “Did you no’ see the fairy flag? I had to send her back. I was too late to save her. There was no other way.”

Mrs. Mac ducked her head. “’Twas no’ the fairy flag you raised.”

Ali sat up in bed, clamping a hand over her mouth. “Not again,” she groaned into her palm. The wave of nausea passed, and she flopped onto the down-filled pillows. A long, drawn-out creak drew her attention, and she cracked one eye open to see her aunt peek around the door.

“Oh, poppet, yer ill again this morn.” Fiona swept into the room. Her royal blue silk skirts swished over the stone floor as she made her way to Ali’s bedside, a look of concern in her kind eyes. “Mayhap we should have someone see to ye. I havena’ said a word to yer father. I didna’ want to worry him, ye ken, and ye always perk up by midday, but really, my pet, this has gone on too long.” The bed dipped when she sat to stroke the hair from Ali’s clammy forehead.

“Aunt Fiona, I think you’ve forgotten I am a doctor. I’m quite capable of seeing to my own care, more competent than most of the heal…oh, good Lord.” Maybe not so competent after all. Ali felt like giving herself a couple of knocks on the head, but didn’t, afraid it wouldn’t have the desired effect. Instead of knocking some sense into her, she’d probably throw up—again.

How stupid could she be? Pregnant. She was pregnant. It certainly explained why she’d been so tired of late. A symptom she’d ascribed to lack of sleep when she’d been too afraid to close her eyes in case the fairies stole her away. Missing her period and her overwrought emotions, she’d put down to stress—stress and missing Rory.

“What is it, Aileanna? Is it serious, poppet?” Her aunt’s eyes filled and she twisted her hands in her lap.

Ali drew Fiona into a reassuring hug. In the few short weeks she’d been at Armadale her aunt had loved and cared for her like a mother. “No, it’s nothing. I mean, it’s not nothing, it’s just that, well, I’m pregnant.” Ali grimaced, not sure how her aunt would take the news.

Lying back, Ali rested her hand on her still flat stomach. She smiled, filled with an excited bubble of wonder and joy. She was having a baby—Rory’s baby. A man she hadn’t seen in weeks. A tiny bit of her happiness dissipated. He hadn’t responded to her letters and the little niggling of doubt was getting harder to ignore.

Fiona’s mouth dropped. “A bairn…yer havin’ a bairn?”

Ali chewed on her bottom lip. “Umhmm. Rory’s baby.”

“Laird MacLeod. Of course—good, that’s good.” Her aunt’s brow furrowed and she tapped a finger on her lightly-lined cheek. “Well, there’s no time to waste, then,” she said after a moment of silence, flipping the covers off Ali.

Ali arched a brow. “If you don’t mind, Auntie, it might be best if I lie here for a little longer.”

“Oh, of course, I didna’ think. I’m sorry, poppet.” She patted the coverlet into place and resumed her seat. “Now, ’tis most important we get in touch with Laird MacLeod.”

Ali sighed. “I tried. As soon as I knew the fairies’ magic wasn’t going to work I sent him a letter—more than one actually. He hasn’t responded, and it’s been a couple of weeks now.” Trying to ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, Ali plucked at the satin comforter.

Fiona’s brow furrowed. “I didna’ ken ye sent a letter. Did yer father?”

Ali nodded. “I didn’t know how to send it without his help.” And Alasdair had fought her tooth and nail, until the tears. When Ali had begun to cry, he gave in.

Her usually mild-mannered aunt cursed under her breath. “That mon, sometimes I’d like to shake him. Aileanna, I doubt verra much yer father sent yer missive. He’s no’ relented aboot yer seein’ the MacLeod, no matter what he’s led ye to believe. ’Tis what the gatherin’ this night is aboot. There are plenty of potential suitors on the guest list.”

Ali groaned. “Aunt Fiona, you have to make him stop. The only man I want is Rory, and that’s not going to change, especially now.” She patted her stomach to make her point.

“I’ve tried, but he’s a stubborn old goat. ’Tis like talkin’ to a wall—a big, thick one.” Her aunt gestured just how thick with her hands. “Mayhap ’twould be best if ye doona’ mention the bairn.”

“I didn’t plan on telling either the father or the grandfather, at least not for a while.”

“I understand ye no’ tellin’ yer father. He’s liable to call the lad out, but why would ye no’ be tellin’ Laird MacLeod?”

Ali rolled her eyes. “Thanks for that comforting thought, Auntie. As for Rory, I refuse to let him marry me just because I’m having his baby. And as soon as he finds out, that’s exactly what he’ll expect. Not that there’s much chance he’ll find out anytime soon.” She sat up and hugged her knees to her chest. “He must know I’m here, Aunt Fiona. I’m worried he’s having second thoughts about us, that he regrets using the clan’s last wish, especially since it didn’t work.” There was something else, something she herself had a difficult time thinking about. How would Rory feel when he found out he was in love with his late wife’s sister?

Her aunt smoothed Ali’s hair over her shoulder. “That’s nonsense, and ye ken it as well as I do. From what ye’ve told me, the lad loves ye, and I ken ye love him. Which leaves me to wonder why ye’d no’ want him to marry ye even if it was on account of the bairn.”

Ali released a frustrated breath. “Auntie, I’ve told you before. I’ll not have Rory MacLeod marry me out of a sense of duty. I want him to marry me because he loves me, because he doesn’t want to live without me. And I won’t have him bully me into it, which is exactly what he’d do if he found out I was pregnant.”

Fiona chuckled and patted her knee. “Well, poppet, I’d say we have our work cut out fer us.”

Ali blinked back tears at the sight of her father and aunt waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs. The look of love and the pride in their eyes made her heart swell. In the short time she’d been with them, she’d come to love them both dearly.

“There is no’ a woman in Scotland who can hold a candle to ye, my pet.” Her father beamed as she reached the bottom step. He looped Ali’s arm through his, and kissed the top of her head.

Ali reached up to kiss his grizzled cheek. “Thank you, and thank you for the gorgeous gown.” She lifted the crimson velvet skirt. “I feel like a princess. You spoil me.” He had. The wardrobe in Ali’s room was overstuffed with gowns of every color in sumptuous fabrics—silks, satins, and velvets. “But this…this is too much.” She touched the heavy, jewel-encrusted necklace with a large ruby at its center.

Her aunt wiped a tear from her eyes. “Nonsense. Yer the image of yer mother, poppet. She would’ve been as proud of ye this night as we are.”

Ali swiped the moisture from her cheek, and squeezed her aunt’s hand. “Thank you,” she murmured past the knot in her throat.

Her father groaned. “Look at the two of ye, greetin’ away when we’ve guests awaitin’ us.”

Ali’s eyes widened as he led her into the grand hall. The massive room overflowed with richly dressed men and women. Gilded torches graced the oak-paneled walls. Thick forest-green velvet draperies hung at the windows. The tables groaned with food and a small group of musicians stood by the massive stone fireplace.

Someone had gone to a great deal of effort to make this evening special, and Ali imagined that’s why she’d been unable to pin her father down for their much-needed chat. But she couldn’t put it off any longer. She had to see Rory, and if he wouldn’t come to her, she’d swallow her pride and go to him.

“Here she is,” her father announced to a group of men congregated in the center of the room. “Come, my pet. I have some gentlemen who are verra anxious to meet ye.”

Good God, her aunt hadn’t been exaggerating.

Fiona leaned toward her. “See, what did I tell ye?”

Before Ali could comment, her father whisked her away from her aunt to introduce her to the men. Although later that evening he did deign to introduce her to more than just the eligible bachelors, of which there seemed to be an inordinate number.

Ali sipped her water and smiled politely, but after another hour passed, her smile felt as though it was frozen in place. Each face blurred into the other. Their inane chatter faded to an annoying buzz that left her light-headed. Ali tugged on her father’s sleeve.

He lowered his ear to her, and she said, “I need to talk to you. It’s important.” Without further ado, Ali dragged her father unceremoniously to an unoccupied corner of the overheated room, as far from the blazing hearth as she could manage.

“Aileanna, ’tis rude to leave our guests in such a manner. I ken ye may no’ do things the same way in yer time, my pet, but—”

“I’m sorry, but I’ve been trying to speak to you all day and I can’t wait any longer.” She crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her gaze on him. “Did you send my letters to Rory? And I expect you to tell me the truth.”

“Nay.” He crossed his arms over his broad chest, a defiant set to his chin. “And I willna’ do it, even if ye beg me. The lad is no’ fer ye. There are some fine gentlemen over there, just waitin’ fer the opportunity to court ye. If ye would give them half a chance, my pet, I’m certain—”

Hands on her hips, she glared at him. “No, and if you won’t send my letters, I’ll go to Dunvegan on my own.”

“Ye’ll no’ set foot from Armadale, Aileanna MacDonald. Besides, the MacLeod is no’ at Dunvegan. He’s on the Isle of Lewis.”

“But it’s been weeks. I thought the battle would be over by now.” Ali’s hand went to her throat. “He isn’t hurt, is he? Please tell me he’s all right.”

“Aye, the lad’s well, more’s the pity. They’ve beaten the adventurers back. No need for them to remain, but they do. It appears the lad is in no hurry to return to Dunvegan, and I’m certain I ken why. Ye should’ve listened to me, Aileanna. He’ll no’ be able to live with himself fer riskin’ his clan on account of ye.”

Her aunt, who must have been keeping an eye on them, chose that moment to appear at Ali’s side. “Alasdair MacDonald, shame on ye fer sayin’ such a thing to yer daughter. Come, poppet, ye look a mite overheated.” She shushed Alasdair and led Ali from the room.

Ali threw up her arms. “He’s so stubborn, he’s maddening. He’s—”

Her aunt chuckled. “Doona’ worry, we’ll figure somethin’ out. Mayhap ye should take a stroll in the gardens, poppet. Yer father had the torches lit and I’m thinkin’ a wee breath of air is just what ye need. Take yer mantle with ye, though. ’Tis a mite chilly out.”

Rory’s hands tightened on Lucifer’s reins. “I’ll no’ say it again, Reggie. I’ve come fer Lady Aileanna Graham,” he roared at the MacDonald’s man-at-arms, a warrior he’d faced often in battle.

“And I told ye, MacLeod, there’s no Lady Aileanna Graham here. And the laird doesna’ want ye on his lands.” In the shadows, Rory saw the slash of white as the idiot grinned.

“Open the bloody gates. Lady Aileanna is my betrothed and no’ you or the MacDonald will keep me from her.”

“Is that so? Do ye hear that, lads? MacLeod here thinks Lady Aileanna is his betrothed.” The man guffawed with his companions on the parapet.

One of the other men laughed. “I doona’ think the young bucks in there vyin’ fer her hand would be too pleased to hear that, do ye, Reggie?”

Reggie rested a foot on the stone ledge and leaned over, tugging on his fiery red beard. “Like I said, MacLeod, we have only one Lady Aileanna here, and she’s a
MacDonald.
The gates are closed to ye so ye’d best head back to Dunvegan. Have a nice ride.”

Rory cursed roundly. He was getting nowhere with the fools, and if MacDonald thought he could keep him from Aileanna, he’d best think again.

He brought Lucifer around and headed back the way he’d come. Raucous laughter followed him on a blustery wind. The stallion snorted puffs of white frost. Rory patted Lucifer’s thickly muscled neck. “Doona worry, boy, we’re no’ goin’ far.” Once they were out of the laughing men’s line of sight, he changed direction, making a wide circle of Armadale to the woods at the back.

Rory’s gut boiled. Anger and frustration steamed from his pores. MacDonald had gone mad. It was the only reason Rory could come up with to explain the man claiming Aileanna as his daughter, and worse, trying to marry her off. Like hell he would. She was his. Rory brought Lucifer alongside the back wall. Since MacDonald was at peace with most of the clans at the moment, including Rory’s, he would have no men guarding the isolated area.

“Hold, boy.” He stood unsteadily on the saddle, his legs weak from his long trek. The muscles in his arms strained and burned as he clung to the top of the stone ledge. Finding purchase with his foot in a crack in the wall, he heaved himself over.

The momentum sent him to the top, and he lowered himself to the ground. With a soft thud he landed in the frozen earth behind a tree. He dragged himself to his feet and pushed aside the branches.

Aileanna. Rory sucked in a ragged breath, his chest so tight it hurt. Her head tipped back, moonlight kissed a profile so perfect it looked as though it was carved in marble. Her pale hair gleamed in soft waves down her back. Awestruck by her beauty, he stumbled from the shadows of the tree.

Aileanna slowly turned. Her lips parted. “Rory,” she whispered. “Oh, Rory.” Laughing and crying, she ran down the narrow path to throw herself in his arms.

He clung to her as though his life depended on it, on her. She showered his face with soft kisses, and Rory choked back a sob. He speared his fingers through her hair and looked into her emotion-filled eyes before he crushed her lips with his. His kiss fierce and demanding, hot and wet, he devoured her, inhaled her sweet, familiar scent.

Only when he felt her tremble did he reluctantly ease back, his breathing harsh, hers the same. “Yer cold.”

Her eyes searched his face as though memorizing every detail. He winced, realizing what he must look like, what he must smell like.

“I’m sorry, mo chridhe. We’d just returned from Lewis and I rode straight to Armadale. I ken I doona’ smell particularly fine at the moment.”

She grinned and wrinkled her nose. He laughed and kissed the turned-up tip before he ran his hands down her arms and held her out from him. “I’m goin’ to ruin yer bonny gown.” Aileanna slid her arms around his neck, closing the space between them to bury her face in his chest.

“I don’t care. My God, Rory, I thought I’d never see you again.” Her lips brushed his chilled skin, and then her shoulders shook, her tears dampening the front of his tunic.