Lord of the Isles

LORD OF HER HEART

He kissed the tears from her cheeks. “I do love you, Aileanna, and I’m no’ marryin’ Moira. I wil na’ go through with the betrothal, no’ now.”

“Don’t . . . don’t lie to me. Lust isn’t love—that’s what you said, didn’t you? I won’t come second to anyone, Rory, not even your dead wife. I deserve more.”

He gave her a slight shake. “Stop. Why wil you no’ try to understand? Aye, I desire you as I never have another, in cluding Brianna. But I do love you, Aileanna, more than I should. And I canna’ let you go. I wil na’ let you go.”

“Did you just say you aren’t marrying Moira?”

“Aye, ’tis what I said,” he growled.

She hesitated then asked, “And you love me?” She low

ered her eyes and her cheeks flushed. “As much as you loved your wife?”

“The love I feel for you is no’ the same as my love for Bri

anna was. Canna’ you understand that?”

“Aye, I can.”

He blinked, then grinned. “I’l make a Scot of you yet, mo chridhe.” His eyes darkened. “But now al I want is to make you mine . . .”

ZEBRA BOOKS

KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

http://www.kensingtonbooks.com

This book is dedicated to the

memory of my father, Norm LeClair.

Not a day goes by that I don’t think about you. You are my hero, and always will be. Thanks . . .

To my amazing husband Perry, and our three incredible children, April, Jess, and Nic. Your love, encouragement, and support, mean the world to me. I love you very much. To my mom, my sister, and brother, for their enthusiastic support. No one could ask for better cheerleaders. I love you. To Ludvica, my adopted daughter, for being the best reader a writer could ever hope for.

To my friends and mentors in ORWA. I wouldn’t have made it this far without you, especial y Coreene, Vanessa, Teresa, and Joyce.

A special thanks to my dear friend and critique partner Lucy. To my agent Pamela Hardy for believing in me, and making my dreams come true. You’re the best!

To my editor John Scognamiglio for taking a chance on me, and for your patience while guiding me through the publish

ing process. You’ve been a pleasure to work with. To my many family and friends. I can’t name you al , but you have my deepest gratitude and love.

Chapter 1

The red hatchback came to a grinding stop at the bottom of a desolate gravel road, and the driver flipped off the meter. Wide-eyed, Ali stared at the back of the bald man’s head.

“You’re kidding, right?”

The cabbie shrugged. His eyes meeting hers in the rear

view mirror. “I canna’ make it up the hil , lass, on account of al the rain we’ve had. My car’s too heavy you ken, but Dunvegan’s just up the road a bit,” he said in his thick brogue. Ali leaned forward, peering past the rhythmic swipe of the windshield wipers to the mist-shrouded trees and the faint outline of a stone tower just beyond them, and released a resigned sigh. She shouldn’t be surprised. Lately, where she was concerned, if something could go wrong, it did.

“Okay then, what do I owe you?” she asked as she dug her wal et from the bottom of her black leather satchel.

“Two hundred pounds,” the older man answered as he opened the door and heaved himself off the front seat. Ali let out a soft whistle before she fol owed after him, her low-heeled shoes sinking in the mud. “Can you give me a receipt, please?”

Her agent and best friend, Meg Lawson, had told her the magazine would pay al her expenses and Ali wasn’t about to 2

Debbie Mazzuca

argue. It meant more money to go toward the hefty student loans she’d accumulated while going to medical