“My . . . my mother’s name was Anna.”
Alasdair stared at her. Grabbing her by the shoulders, he gave her a little shake. “Do ye see it now, lass? ’Tis the truth—ye are my daughter.”
Ali shook her head. “No, it’s a coincidence, Alasdair, that’s al . I can’t tel you why I’m so sure, but I am.” If she told him the truth, he’d think she’d lost her mind. Unable to escape on the long journey to Alasdair’s home, LORD OF THE ISLES
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she had to find a way to leave Armadale without raising his suspicions, or he’d find a way to stop her. She didn’t know where she’d go to wait until the magic sent her back, but she couldn’t be with Alasdair when it did. The man had suffered enough.
“Ye’l tel me, Aileanna. I must ken, or ’twil eat at me until the day I die. Can ye no’ understand, my pet? I need to ken.”
“Aileanna? Alasdair, is it truly she?” The woman stood plucking at his sleeve. Luminous brown eyes brimmed with tears, and Aileanna felt a fleeting sense of recognition.
“’Tis. Whether she wil admit to it, or no’,” he said, his voice tight with anger.
“Alasdair, I don’t mean to hurt you, but I can’t pretend to be your daughter when I know I’m not. No matter how much both of us wish it was true.”
He shook off the woman’s hand and dragged Ali after him. “I ken ’tis true, and I’l show ye why.”
“Alasdair, can this no’ wait? The child is obviously ex
hausted.”
“Nay, I’ve waited over twenty-seven years to find her, and I’l no’ wait a moment longer.”
Ali stumbled after him, past the gaping servants. He led her up the curved stone staircase and opened a door to a long, narrow room lined with portraits. “There.” He pointed. “Now, tel me yer no’ my daughter.”
“Alasdair, I know I look like Brianna. I’ve seen her por
trait be—”
“Nay, that one.” He held her by the shoulders and di
rected her gaze to the portrait on the right of Brianna’s. Ali stared at the painted image of a woman with the topaz eyes and hair the color of spun gold. Her breath quickened, and her heart stuttered in her chest. Faded mem ories rushed at her in a swirling torrent. The room spun, and her knees buckled. She was so terrified it was the fairy 308
magic she could barely breathe. But it wasn’t—it was shock, the shock of looking at her mother’s beautiful face. She clutched Alasdair’s arm. “How . . . how can it be?
I’m not from . . .” Her voice trailed off, unable to tel him the truth. Fiona dragged over a chair. “Here, sit, my dear. There, there.” She patted Aileanna’s shoulder. “Ye should ken better, ye old goat. The child is dead on her feet.”
Alasdair scowled at the woman. “I need to ken once and fer al . Ye of anyone should understand, Fiona.”
“Aye, I do.” Her voice was gentle as she knelt at Ali’s side.
“I ken ye’ve had a rough time of it, and I doona’ want to add to yer troubles, but when yer mo—when my sister had the babies she sent fer me. I helped with the bairns, until . . . until.” She let out a shuddering breath. “If ye al ow me, I can tel ye fer certain whether or no’ yer Aileanna MacDonald.”
“But I can’t be . . . you don’t understand.”
Alasdair shot Ali a ferocious glare before he turned to the other woman. “What are ye sayin’, Fiona? How would ye ken?”
“The bairn had a birthmark, Alasdair, a wee crescent moon just below the hairline at the back of her neck.”
Before Ali could respond, Alasdair lifted her hair. She heard Fiona gasp, and let out a weary sigh. “I’m sorry, Alasdair. I tried to tel you.”
He pressed his big palm to her cheek and turned her to face him. His sky blue eyes were bright with unshed tears.
“The wee moon is there, my pet. There is no doubt, ye are my daughter.”
Ali stared at him in shocked disbelief. She shook her head. Heart racing, she managed to say, “But I can’t be. I’m not from—”
“Tel me, Aileanna. Tel me why ye canna’ believe ’tis true.”
“I can’t.” She bowed her head. Ali understood his frus
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tration when so much of the evidence seemed to validate his claim that she was his daughter: the portrait of a woman who looked like her mother, had the same name, and now to learn she bore the identical birthmark as the daughter he had lost al those years ago. Good Lord, she’d almost be
lieve it herself if not for the fact she was from the twentyfirst century. He moved to stand in front of her, arms crossed over his broad chest. “Aye, ye wil .” Jaw set, he skewered her with an unbending stare. Seeing the glimmer of moisture in Alasdair’s eyes, Ali couldn’t keep the truth from him any longer. To try to help him understand why
