“Lady Aileanna, you mustna’ worry so.” She patted Ali’s arm.
“I’m sorry, it’s just . . . wel , you know. But there must be some reason Connor sent you to me, and please don’t tel me it has anything to do with my hair.”
“Nay, but it might be best if it did.” Mari smiled and reached up to pat a strand into place.
“Och, now, I’m doin’ the best I can. Sit back down here, Lady Aileanna, and Mari wil tel us what’s brought her here.”
Mrs. Mac waved her over with the comb. “Hurry on, or you’l miss the evenin’ meal.”
Once seated, Ali gave the girl a pointed look. “Mari?”
“’Tis Lady MacLean is al . She’s lookin’ fer a maid to tend to her needs.”
“’Tis a canny lad our Connor is. You have enough bruises without her addin’ to them. But why the woman didna’ bring her own help is beyond me.”
“Oh, but she did, only from what I hear tel the maid ran off on the trek here.”
“You see, Lady Aileanna, ’tis as I said,” Mrs. Mac huffed.
“Wel , I can tel you right now she won’t get away with that type of behavior while she’s at Dunvegan. If Ror —
Lord MacLeod doesn’t deal with her, I wil .”
Mrs. Mac and Mari exchanged what looked to be a con
spiratorial smile, and Ali narrowed her gaze on them.
“What?”
Rory tried to focus on the woman at his side, but Aileanna’s husky laugh coming from the far end of the table captured his attention. From the moment she’d en
tered the hal , he’d found himself unable to ignore her. The curve of her long neck beneath the elegant upsweep of her 124
hair, and the creamy swel of her breasts fil ing the neck
line of her beautiful gown, al conspired against him.
“Yer brother seems much enamored of Lady Aileanna.”
Moira MacLean nodded in the direction of the two. An impish grin curved her tinted lips.
“They’re friends,” he said, his tone more gruff than he intended. The muscle in his jaw twitched at the sight of Aileanna’s hand on his brother’s sleeve, their heads bent toward each other. He tightened his grip on the pewter mug before he brought it to his lips, taking a deep swal ow. An elegant brow lifted at his response, her fawn colored eyes intent. “I thought she was his betrothed, yet I’ve seen no sign of her chaperone, Rory. ’Tis no’ proper to have a woman under yer roof without her kin.”
“She was injured when the adventurers kidnapped her and has no memory of her kin. Fer the moment she’s under my protection, Moira. I await word from Angus Graham.”
Aidan, who sat on his left, halted his conversation with Fergus. “Ye didna’ mention that earlier, Rory. Are ye cer tain she’s no’ a spy?” His cousin Aidan, who arrived late to the hal , had yet to meet Aileanna and now leaned back in his chair to cast a suspicious look her way. Rory had kept introductions to a minimum, comment ing little on Aileanna’s presence even when he and his cousin had shut themselves away most of the day to strate gize. He hadn’t realized it had been intentional, but obvi
ously it had been, and Moira’s comments of impropriety reminded him why.
“You’ve only just arrived, Aidan, and we had other mat
ters to discuss. Rest assured, Lady Aileanna is no spy.”
Moira walked her fingers along Rory’s arm and tilted her head to gaze up at him. Her nut brown hair brushed his shoulder. “And what would those matters be?”
Her brother Cyril, seated to her right, laughed, saving Rory from answering. Rory wasn’t about to be pushed into LORD OF THE ISLES
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the union. Even though he knew the match had merit, something held him back, and he was beginning to fear that something was at the moment chatting up his brother.
“Ye must excuse my sister, Rory. She has never been known fer her patience.” Cyril patted her hand with an in dulgent smile.
“Cyril.” Moira pouted prettily. “Ye wouldna’ want Rory to think me spoiled, now would ye?”
“Doona’ fret, Moira, that wouldna’ happen,” Rory reas
sured her, looking up in time to catch Aileanna’s stormy blue gaze upon him. Their eyes locked before she turned her back on him. It was then Rory noted Moira had en
twined her fingers with his.
He heard his cousin’s sharp intake of breath. “Sweet Jesu’, she has the look of Brianna.” His mouth gaped. “Are ye certain she has no’ turned yer head because of it, cousin? Mayhap ye should let me question her.”
Before Rory could respond, Fergus cut in. “’Tis I who found the lass, Aidan, and if it wasna’ for her, our laird would be dead.”
