“Aye, ’twas what I saw as wel ,” one of the woman’s com
panions said. “And ’twas after that my cow dropped dead.”
“Aye, and the water in the wel turned blood red.”
“Do ye have anythin’ to say fer yerself, Lady Aileanna?”
the sheriff asked, his expression grim.
“I’d like to question the witnesses.”
Moira and the priest looked at each other in obvious dis
tress.
The sheriff scratched his head. “’Tis an unusual request, but I’l no’ have Laird MacLeod sayin’ ye were no’ given a fair trial.”
“Thank you.” Ali turned to her accusers. “You do realize when you give evidence at a trial you’re swearing to God to tel the truth?” She paused to let her words sink in. The priest once again jumped to his feet. “What right does she have to invoke the name of the Lord?”
“I wasn’t. I’m simply stating a fact, is that not true, Sheriff ?”
“Aye.” He gave her a tight nod. “Ye may go on.”
“Did Lady MacLean offer you money for your test . . . to speak against me?”
“Nay,” the oldest of the three was quick to say. The other two bowed their heads.
“Tel him,” Moira shrieked. “Ye tel them I gave ye no money or—”
The sheriff came to his feet and shot an angry look at Moira and the priest. “I doona’ like to be played fer a fool.
’Tis my findin’ that Lady Aileanna Graham is inn—”
“Nay . . . nay.” A young dark-haired man pushed his way through the crowd. “I saw it with my own eyes. She brought a wee lad back from the dead. He’d drowned in the loch.”
Ali closed her eyes. Now how was she supposed to ex
plain that?
“She’s no witch. She’s an angel. Saved my son, she did.”
Janet Cameron’s cries were drowned out by the sound of
LORD OF THE ISLES
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horses’ hooves pounding on the hard-packed earth. The ground shook beneath Ali’s feet. Dust bil owed and choked the onlookers.
When the cloud cleared, she looked up to see Alasdair MacDonald. Like an avenging angel, he urged his white steed forward. The people fel over themselves to get out of his way. At least a hundred men rode with him—fierce, angry men.
“Are ye al right, my pet?” he asked.
Ali nodded. Bemused relief washed over her.
“What is it ye charge my daughter with?”
“Yer daughter? I didna’ ken she was yer daughter, Laird MacDonald.”
“Speak, mon! What are the charges?”
“Wi . . . witchcraft, my lord.”
“Yer chargin’
lowed, bringing his horse within snorting distance.
“Nay . . . nay, they are.” The sheriff stumbled backward, pointing to Moira and the priest. “But . . . but I was just about to declare her innocence when this lad says she brought a child back to life.”
“Aileanna?” Alasdair raised a brow.
She gave a frantic shake of her head. “He wasn’t dead. He swal owed a lot of water and the loch brought his body temperature down too low, that’s al .”
“I saw her. She blew into his mouth.”
“Yes, of course I did. I had to replace the air he’d been deprived of. I’ve seen it done before.”
“My daughter is a healer. She’s no witch, and if I hear another spout lies against her, they’l answer to me.” He reached for Aileanna’s hand and pul ed her onto the back of his horse. “Do ye declare my daughter innocent?”
The sheriff ’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. “Aye, my lord, aye.”
Alasdair brought his horse around to face Moira and 302
