“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? Al 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 316
get the words out. “Mrs. Mac, she’s no’ at Armadale.” He pul ed 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.”
Chapter 27
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-fil ed pil ows. 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 il 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 real y, 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 al . 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 318
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 fil ed 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, wel , I’m pregnant.” Ali gri maced, not sure how her aunt would take the news. Lying back, Ali rested her hand on her stil flat stomach. She smiled, fil ed 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 dissi
pated. He hadn’t responded to her letters and the little nig
gling 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 lightlylined cheek. “Wel , 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 actual y. 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?”
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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 usual y 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, especial y now.” She patted her stomach to make her point.
“I’ve tried, but he’s a stubborn old goat. ’Tis like talkin’
to a wal —a big, thick one.” Her aunt gestured just how thick with her hands. “Mayhap ’twould be best if ye doona’
mention the bairn.”
