Lord of the Isles

He narrowed his gaze on his brother. “I am laird, Iain, no’ you, and ’twould be best if you remembered that.” But Iain was right. Aileanna was not the kind of woman for a quick tumble. She was a lady, although not like any lady he’d ever known. Her beauty alone set her above the rest, but it was her courage, her strength that intrigued him beyond measure. And a tumble was al he could offer her. Never again would he give his heart to another. The cost was too high.

The door rattled on its hinges as he slammed from his chambers before he said something he’d regret. He gave Cal um and Connor a curt nod. “You both wil accompany Lady Aileanna and Mari to the hal when the time comes. Be prepared for trouble.”

“Aye,” they responded as one, purposeful y avoiding his gaze.

Bloody hell, he cursed beneath his breath. They’d heard his exchange with Iain. He opened his mouth to say some thing, then closed it. What could he say? His gaze drawn to the door they guarded, he could only hope Aileanna hadn’t heard them, too.

The priest’s voice broke through his thoughts, preaching the dangers of hel and damnation. He pinched the bridge of his nose, almost wishing he battled the MacDonald in

stead of dealing with what was to come. “Connor, tel the men to bring the priest to the hal .” He shot the order over his shoulder as he made his way below, scattering the ser

vants gathered at the base of the stairs with an impatient wave of his hand. He looked up in time to see Fergus stride into the keep empty-handed. “I take it the good sheriff was nowhere to be found.”

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Fergus raised a bushy brow. “Yer no’ surprised?”

“Nay, but what of Mari’s mother?”

The big man shook his head. “Too terrified of the priest to stand in defense of her daughter.”

Rory scrubbed a hand along his jaw. “I canna’ say I blame her. At least she thought to bring Mari here when he threatened her the first time.”

“Aye, and Lady Aileanna wil stand up fer her.”

“Aye, and that’s what worries me,” he commented dryly. A commotion from behind him drew his attention. The priest, slapping at his guard’s hands, barreled toward them. With his robes bil owing behind him he looked like an overgrown carrion crow come to feed. The man cuffed one of the guards that tried to restrain him. “Laird MacLeod . .

. my laird, do ye no’ hear me?”

“I wish I didna’,” Rory muttered under his breath. Fergus snorted, clasping his big hands behind his back as he stared down his oft-broken nose at the twitching bundle of fury that stood before them.

“Laird MacLeod, if ye wil release the woman and the girl into my care ye’l be done with the matter.”

“And what is it you’re plannin’ on doin’ with them?”

The priest cleared his throat. “There wil be a trial, of that ye can be certain.” His beady eyes darted toward the en trance of the hal .

“Ah, I see. And do you plan on usin’ torture durin’ this so-cal ed trial?”

The man gave an indifferent shrug of his birdlike shoul

ders. “’Tis necessary at times, ye understand.”

“I understand only too wel , and you should understand this.” He leaned toward the man. “They are under my pro tection. You came onto my lands and almost kil ed that child. The only reason yer no’ locked in my dungeon is on account of my clan and the fact they hold you in some

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regard. Fer that reason, and that reason alone, I’l al ow you to state yer case.”

“Ye canna’ stand against the Kirk, Laird MacLeod, and wel ye ken it.”

“Yer new to the Isles, Father, or you’d already ken I’ve stood against the Kirk before when it comes to those under my protection. And I’l do so again if need be.”

“But . . . but . . .”

Rory jerked his head at his men, leaving the priest to protest until he was blue in the face. “Take him to the hal .”

Fergus fol owed behind at a leisurely pace. Tilting his head, he took a look into the grand hal and let out a low whistle. “’Tis packed to the rafters.”

Rory rol ed his eyes. He wasn’t surprised. Superstition ran deep amongst his people. They would be crying for the young maid’s death as loudly as the bloody priest. They were slow in giving their acceptance, and Aileanna and Mari had not been around long enough to earn it. “’Tis time, Fergus. See to the women.”

“Aye.” Fergus clapped a heavy hand on Rory’s shoulder.

“Al wil be wel , lad. They respect you. No one wil doubt the wisdom of yer decision once you render it.”

“We’l soon see.” He hoped Fergus was right. The prob

lem was not in making the judgment, but in seeing that his clan saw the truth of it. He made his way into the hal . A warm, musky scent as