give me.”
He felt the soft, heated skin beneath his hand, the quick
ening of her heartbeat, and abruptly disengaged himself from her grasp. “’Tis forgotten. Good sleep, Lady Moira. I wil see you on the morrow.” His tone was curt. He couldn’t get away from her fast enough, angry at what she accused Aileanna of being, and what it would do to her reputation if Moira chose to spread her tales. The decision Moira now forced him to make fueled his anger. Once inside his chambers Rory hesitated before he strode to the door that adjoined the two rooms. He heard a crash. The wood shuddered beneath his hand. He wrenched it open, his gaze drawn to the overturned trunk and the brightly colored gowns that spil ed onto the floor. Aileanna stood by the bed with her back to him.
“Aileanna?”
She put up a hand and shook her head.
Rory ignored her request and reached for her. “Aileanna, what were you doin’? Are you hurt?”
Beneath his hand her shoulder stiffened. She took a step away, then turned. Violet eyes looked up at him. “I’m doing as your bride-to-be demanded. I was going to take the gowns, and then I realized they’re not mine to take—
nothing is.” She looked at the candle beside the bed and blinked her eyes.
“Aileanna.” He brushed his knuckles along her cheek.
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“Don’t . . . don’t touch me,” she cried out in a strangled voice. “Please, don’t.”
Rory dropped his hand. “The gowns are yers. Anythin’
you want from this room is yers.” He took a deep breath.
“But ’tis best you take another room, Aileanna. I wil na’
have yer reputation besmirched. I hadna’ considered the consequences, and I should have.”
“I’m sure it is for the best, and of course you wouldn’t want to jeopardize the match with the MacLeans.”
He scrubbed his hands over his face. “I have no’ made up my mind on the matter, Aileanna. No’ yet.”
“But in the end we both know what you’l do, Rory. You always do what’s best for the clan, and so you should.” She knelt on the floor and gathered the gowns to her chest before she rose unsteadily to her feet. With her head held high she left the room.
Chapter 11
Anger overrode her humiliation as Ali watched the young mother hurry into the cottage, her sickly infant clutched to her chest. “I don’t understand why she won’t let me look at the baby, Cal um. I’m sure I could find some way to help him.” She glanced back at the blond man who shadowed her as she went unsuccessful y from one cottage to the next, checking on those Mrs. Mac had asked her to look in on. Not one of them had al owed her anywhere near them. You would think she carried the plague.
Her childhood insecurities resurfaced. Feelings of being unwanted, of not belonging, taunted her. She thought she’d overcome them, put them behind her, but coming to Dunve
gan had forced her to contend with them once more. Her hard-won armor was slipping, al owing the pointed barbs to pierce her self-confidence and a heart battered more times than she cared to remember. Cal um appeared sympathetic. “’Twil take time is al , Lady Aileanna.”
“That baby may not have time.” She took his hand as he helped her over a fal en log. “Does this have anything to do with the priest?”
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“Nay, ’tis on account they doona’ ken ye, and mayhap—”
He hesitated, looking decidedly uncomfortable.
“Cal um, I’m sure whatever you say can’t hurt my feel
ings anymore than they already have been.”
He looked toward Dunvegan. Only the tower remained visible above the soaring pines. “In the hal this morn Lady MacLean questioned yer loyalties. She said as how ye were a spy sent by the MacDonald to turn the men’s heads, gettin’ them to spil their plans with yer bonny looks. Her voice carried loud enough fer al to hear.”
Ali cursed under her breath. She should have gone down to breakfast instead of putting her new rooms to right. At least she could have defended herself. Then again, she would have had to face Rory and Moira MacLean. And if she was honest, Ali would admit that was the real reason she’d stayed to putter in her chambers.
“But Ro—Lord MacLeod must have come to my de
fense. He knows—”
Cal um interrupted her. “’Twas Fergus and Iain who sought to protect ye, my lady. I thought they did a fair job mind ye, but it seems some of the clan chose to believe Lady Moira.” He shrugged apologetical y.
“I’m thankful they at least tried.” Fergus and Iain—but not Rory. He actual y thought she was a spy, out to harm his beloved clan. Despite the heat, she shivered. “What about you, Cal um—do you think I’m a spy?”
“Nay, my lady, yer speech and ways are a mite strange, but I doona’ think ye’d bring us harm,” he said with a gentle look on his face.
