“I was verra scared and ye took my fears away. I’l no’
forget ye fer that.”
“It was my pleasure. Now I think his father’s waited long enough, don’t you? I’l tel him to come in and I’l see you first thing in the morning. Get some rest.”
As the door to the tiny thatched cottage squeaked open, 92
two men straightened from where they leaned against an old, battered oak tree. A half moon hung overhead, cast ing a glimmer of light on the men’s shadowed faces. Her heartbeat quickened at the sight of Rory, her body’s re sponse to him immediate. She tried to ignore the implica
tions, to pretend her reaction was no different than any woman’s would be to a man as powerful and as gorgeous as the Laird of Dunvegan. But she didn’t need the voice in her head to tel her she was ful of it. Everything she’d witnessed in the hal earlier that day had proven to her beyond a shadow of a doubt that this was one man worthy of not only a woman’s love, but her re
spect as wel . His strength of character, the fairness of his judgment—although she’d doubted it in the beginning—
and the depth of loyalty he garnered from his clan al bore witness to that. She envied Brianna MacLeod more than she cared to admit. Envied the love they had shared—a love worthy of a romance novel, and she should know—
she’d read enough of them.
One day, if she was lucky enough to find her own hero, he’d be a very tarnished version of Rory MacLeod. They didn’t make men like him anymore. Drew Sanderson, her slimebal of an ex-boyfriend, was proof of that. The man was nothing like Rory, nor were any of the others she’d dated before him. And that said a lot about what her love life would be like once she got back to the twenty-first century.
She shoved her thoughts aside and took a step toward Robert Chisholm. “Your wife and son are waiting for you.”
A big grin creased his craggy face.
Rory clapped a hand on his friend’s back. “Go to Mau
reen and the bairn. I’l see you on the morrow.”
“Aye, I’l do that.” Robert clasped Ali’s hands with his.
“I canna’ thank ye enough, Lady Aileanna.”
“There’s no need. Your wife did al the work. He’s
LORD OF THE ISLES
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lovely, and they’re both doing wel ,” she reassured the proud father. “I told Maureen I’d stop by in the morning, so I’l see you then.” A cry that sounded like a little lamb came from within the cottage and they laughed. “I think your son is impatient to meet you.”
With one more squeeze of her hands, Robert released her, ducking his head before entering the cottage. A breeze wafted off the loch, rustling the trees, tugging at the cap on Ali’s head. She scratched beneath the stupid piece of fabric Mrs. Mac had insisted she wear. Damp and hot, her head itched after the hours she’d spent closed up in the cottage with the blazing fire Robert had insisted upon. The smoky scent of peat clung to her clothes. She heard Rory’s chuckle rumble deep in his chest and looked over to where he stood watching her. “I’m sur prised yer stil wearin’ the cap. I didna’ think ’twas one of yer favorites.”
She snorted. “It’s not, but Mrs. Mac didn’t give me much choice in the matter.”
Rory pushed away from the tree and seemed to hesi
tate before he came to her side. He looked down at her.
“You can take it off, Aileanna. The priest is gone,” he said quietly.
“Thank God. Mari wil be relieved.” She grimaced, pul ing out the pins that dug into her scalp.
“Aye, and you?” He lifted his hand as though to help her, but then let it drop to his side.
“Of course. The man is crazy.” The cap final y free, she tugged it from her head. “Uhmm, that feels so good,” she murmured, closing her eyes as she combed her fingers through her hair. When she opened them, she saw that Rory watched her with a pained expression on his face. She frowned. “Is something wrong?”
“Nay . . . nay. I’l see you home.” His tone was gruff. 94
“Oh, I didn’t . . . you didn’t have to come for me. It’s light enough to make my way back on my own.”
“You were no’ the only reason I came, Aileanna.” Her name rol ed off his tongue in a low, smooth rumble that caused her toes to curl. “I thought I should be here fer Robert, in case . . .” He closed his mouth, his lips drawn in a thin, tight line. Tilting his head back, he squinted up at the stars that twinkled overhead. It took a moment for Ali to realize what he meant, and when she did her heart ached for him. “Oh, Rory.” She squeezed his arm. “Maureen and the baby are fine. They were at very low risk for anything to go wrong.”
His eyes searched her face, and then he shrugged. “I ken it.”
“I’m sure it’s difficult for you. Would it help to talk about it?”
“Nay, it wil na’ do any good. I canna’ bring her back.”
