“What?” she squeaked, easing out of his arms.
“Aileanna, because yer Brianna’s sister, a priest wil na’
marry us until I get dispensation from the pope. If ’tis im
portant to you, I wil , but ’twil take some time. I ken this may sound odd to you, but al it takes for us to be legal y wed is fer us to agree that we are. We have witnesses.” He nodded toward her father and her aunt. “Although even that is no’ necessary. This one, here”—he flattened his palm to her stomach, a heated look in his eyes—“is the only one we truly need.”
Ali drew her gaze to Alasdair and Fiona, who stood to
gether a few feet away. “Is this true?”
Her aunt gave her a watery smile. “Aye, ’tis how many are wed in the highlands, poppet. ’Tis legal.”
Her father’s mouth opened as though he planned to argue the point, grunting when Fiona elbowed him. He turned on her aunt. “Woman, what has gotten into ye?” He rubbed his
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stomach then looked at Ali, his expression softening. “Aye, my pet, yer now wed to . . . to
“Oh.” She looked up at Rory. “We’re married?”
Rory laughed. “Aye.” He turned to her father and aunt.
“And if ye doona’ mind, I’m takin’ my wife to her cham
bers. She needs her rest.” With that said, he swung Ali into his arms and strode from the salon, leaving her aunt chuckling and her father sputtering behind them.
“I have a feelin’ I’l pay fer that on the morrow,” Rory said wryly. “Where’s yer chambers, love?”
“In the East Wing, fourth door on the left.” Ali waved her hand in the direction of her room. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she snuggled closer.
Rory groaned.
She lifted her head. “Am I too heavy?”
He snorted. “Nay, yer room is too far.” He quieted her re
sponse with a hard kiss that had her squirming in his arms. Breaking their kiss at the sound of feminine giggles, Rory growled at the two young maids. The girls squealed and ran in the opposite direction. Ali laughed. “You’re fierce, Lord MacLeod.”
“Aye, and you best remember it. Now, please, tel me this is yer room.”
She looked up. “It is.”
“Thank God. You’l have to open the door. My hands are ful at the moment.”
Ali rol ed her eyes and lifted the latch. Once they were inside, Rory kicked the door closed. He laid her on the bed, stretching out beside her. His eyes drifted shut, and he released a contented sigh. Ali raised herself up on her elbow and pressed her palm to the dark shadow that lined his jaw. “You’re exhausted.”
He brought her hand to his lips. “Aye.” Rol ing onto his side, he nudged her onto her back. “But I’d have to be dead no’ to be able to show you how much I missed you.”
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She trailed the tips of her fingers along his cheek. “I think you should let me take care of you, Lord MacLeod. After al , I am the doctor in the family, and I know just what you need.”
Rory grinned. “You do, do you?” His expression turned serious. “Aileanna, yer al I’l ever need. I love you.” He slid his lips back and forth over hers, then kissed her thor
oughly, deeply, in a slow and possessive kiss. He cradled her head with one hand while the other traced along the edge of her necklace.
Ali sucked in a ragged breath when feather-light fingers dipped beneath the neckline of her gown, stroking her breasts. He lifted his mouth from hers. “I think ’tis time to rid you of some clothes.” His voice was deep and husky. Placing a palm on his chest, Ali pushed him onto his back. Coming up on her knees, she knelt beside him.
“Funny, that’s exactly what I was thinking.”
Ali leaned over and tugged the soft leather boots from his feet, tossing them beside the bed. She ran her hand up his leg, over his hip, stroking him beneath the waistband of his pants. The hard muscles of his stomach rippled. Ali pushed his shirt aside, dipping her head to trail her tongue over his lightly bronzed skin. Rory sucked in a harsh breath. “Doona’ tease me, love. I’ve been too long without you.”
He didn’t look amused when Ali chuckled. “Patience, my lord,” she said as she tugged his pants over his hips, raising a brow at his lack of underwear. Seeing her expression, Rory shrugged. “’Twas bad enough I had to borrow his trews and tunic. I bloody wel wasna’ goin’ to borrow the old goat’s braies.”
Ali fought back a smile. “Rory, that’s my father you’re referring to.”
“Aye, doona’ remind me,” he grumbled, raising his hips so Ali could relieve him of his pants while he shrugged out LORD OF THE ISLES
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