face. “I canna’ let her suffer any longer. I have somethin’ I must tel you, Rory, and I pray you wil be able to forgive me.”
Chapter 16
“Bloody hel ,” Rory muttered under his breath. “What have you done, Iain?” But he knew what his brother had done. Desperate to save him, he’d waved the flag without thought to the consequences. At first Rory had been tempted not to believe him, to think the wild tale was just another attempt to get him to believe in Aileanna’s innocence, to keep her from the tower. One look at Fergus’s and Mrs. Mac’s faces con vinced him it was no story Iain concocted, but the truth. With the toe of his boot he nudged the peat into the mouth of the flame. A shower of sparks fol owed with a loud crackle and pop. He glanced over his shoulder from where he sat by the fire to look at Aileanna. Hours had passed, and stil she slept in his bed, beneath the mountain of covers Mrs. Mac had piled on top of her. Rory pressed his fingers to his temples. What was he to do with her? A woman snatched from her own time to save him. He al owed himself a slight smile. It went a long way in explaining the strange way she had of speaking and be
having. But how would she feel when he told her he could not send her home? That he must sacrifice her desires for 196
the good of the clan. He would not use the last wish. One day it might mean the difference to the clan’s survival. Surely she would understand.
He heard the rustle of bedding and turned to see Aileanna sitting up, looking down at her nightclothes. Through the dim light of the candles he saw her scowl at him.
“You have a lot of nerve,” she sputtered. Rory eased himself from the chair and walked toward the bed, suppressing a smile. “I didna’ disrobe you, lass.
’Twas Mrs. Mac who saw to you,” he assured her, unable to keep an image of him slowly stripping each layer of clothing from her, revealing her naked flesh, from playing out in his mind. Aileanna clutched the sheets to her chest, and croaked,
“Why . . . why have you put me in your room and not the tower?”
Rory lifted the pitcher from the bedside table and poured her a cup of water, offering it to her. “And before you ask,
’twas boiled.”
Her fingers brushed his when she took the cup. “You didn’t answer me,” she said, eyeing him over the rim.
“I ken who you are, Aileanna.”
She choked on a mouthful of water, but was quick to re
cover. “Oh, you’ve heard from Angus then. What did he tel you? Obviously something to make you believe I’m not a spy, or I’d stil be locked away.”
He retrieved the cup and set it on the table before he turned back to her. “Nay, that would be Iain’s doin’.”
“Iain.” She shot a panicked look around the room.
“Where . . . where is he?”
Rory sat on the edge of the bed and brushed a strand of hair from her pale cheek. “I ken everything, Aileanna. Iain confessed.”
“Did you hurt him, because if you did I’l —”
He shook his head, unhappy with her wil ingness to be
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lieve the worst of him. “No matter what you think of me, Aileanna, you must ken I would no’ hurt my brother.” He lifted her hand to examine the damage she’d done in her escape from the tower. “I appreciate the lengths to which you went to protect him. I only wish you would’ve told me before I—”
“You what, tortured me . . . starved me?”
Rory let out an exasperated sigh. “You ken I didna’ tor
ture or starve you, Aileanna, but I ken I hurt you, and fer that I’m sorry.”
She bowed her head and her cheeks pinked. He tipped her chin, forcing her to look at him. In the can dlelight her eyes, awash with tears, shimmered. Rory sucked in an anguished breath. “I didna’ mean what I said. I was angry and hurt that you betrayed me, and I lashed out at you.
’Tis no’ somethin’ I’m proud of. Al I ask is that you under
stand where the words came from and accept my apology.”
Ali tilted her head and looked up at the ceiling, blinking back tears. When her emotions were under some sem blance of control, she forced herself to ask him, “Now that you know, wil you use the flag to send me home?” Her head was spinning, not sure what she hoped his answer would be. What she real y wanted to know, but was too afraid to ask, was if he’d meant it when he denied his love for her. Did she compare as poorly to his wife as he sug gested? Even now, repeating his words in her head caused fresh tears to spring to her eyes. She couldn’t bear to ask him the questions for fear she would be humiliated again, and her heart couldn’t stand the rejection.
“Doona’ you think you could be happy here at Dunvegan?”
How could he ask her that after what had gone on be
