tion in his emerald gaze.
Ali shook her head. “I didn’t do it on purpose. I didn’t know.” She leaned over him to get a better look before being roughly jerked away. Strong hands restrained her, biting into the flesh of her upper arms. She struggled to free herself from the younger man’s grasp. “Let go of me. This man needs medical attention. I can help him—I’m a doctor.”
“Let her go, Iain.” The older man forcibly removed Iain’s hands from her arms before dragging her to the other side of the room. Iain fol owed in their wake.
“Who are you?” the red-haired man growled, his ex
pression fierce.
“Dr. Aileanna Graham, and there’s no time for this. I told you, that man needs my help.” She’d had to deal with over protective family members before, but this was ridiculous.
“Where are you from?”
“New York.” She rol ed her eyes at the blank expression on the big man’s face. “Look, this wil have to wait or I swear to you he’s going to bleed to death.”
“How did you get in his chambers?” His manner had changed, no longer aggressive; there was an odd look in his eyes.
Ali let out a frustrated sigh. “I don’t know. I fel asleep in another room, and then I found myself in bed with him.”
She jerked her chin toward the man named Rory, and heat suffused her cheeks. “So maybe the question isn’t how I got in here, but who the hel put me in his bed, and why?”
It was something she wanted to know, along with why they were dressed the way they were, and what this Rory person was doing here instead of at a hospital. But now was not the time for discussion. LORD OF THE ISLES
17
Iain looked at the older man, a gleam of excitement in his eyes. “Fergus, they sent her.”
“Quiet, lad,” the other man snapped.
Ali crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t know what the two of you are talking about, or what’s going on here, but I’m warning you, you’d better send for an ambulance. Your friend needs to be in a hospital, so I’d suggest you cal 911 immediately.”
Again with the blank stares.
Okay, so maybe it wasn’t 911 in Scotland. “I don’t care what number you cal , but we have to get him to a hospital.”
The man named Fergus shook his head slowly from side to side. “’Tis up to you, lass. There’d be no one else.”
“I don’t understand.”
“There’d be no time to explain. See to our laird, if you please.”
“Laird?”
“Aye. Laird MacLeod.”
Lord Rory MacLeod, the clothes, the . . . no, she wouldn’t go there. Not now. Whoever he was, he needed her help. With one last look at the men who watched her, their expres
sions bemused, she returned to her patient’s bedside. Rory MacLeod’s look-alike reached out his big hand. Clamping it around her wrist, he jerked her toward him.
“Who . . . who are you?” he rasped, the effort obviously costing him.
“Doctor Aileanna Graham.” She pried his fingers from her wrist.
He opened his mouth to say something, but Ali silenced him with a firm, “Be quiet.” She placed a finger to his lips when he tried to protest. “Shh,” Ali said, trying not to think about how that particular set of lips had felt, pressed to hers. She pushed aside her wayward thoughts and her profes
sional persona slid into place. “Your questions can wait.”
18
She laid her palm against the side of his face, then his fore
head, relieved to find he didn’t have a fever.
“Could you get Duncan for me?” she asked Iain, who was closest to the bed.
“Duncan?” the younger man asked, his brow furrowed.
“There’d be no Duncan here.”
Ali took in a deep, calming breath. Don’t think about it. Do. Not. Think. About. It. “I need something to stop the bleeding. Can you bring me some fresh linen? And I’l need some more candles, or whatever it is you use for lighting.”
“Aye.” Iain shot a quick glance over his shoulder before heading for the door.
“And clean water and soap while you’re at it,” Ali cal ed after him.
