“Thanks fer the offer, but I have plans fer this evenin’.”
He tightened his hold on her. “Is there a reason you’ve come lookin’ for me, Iain?”
“Aye, and you’l no’ be pleased. Cyril’s back. Says he must speak to you. He’s no’ lookin’ too wel .”
Rory cursed under his breath. “Iain, help Aileanna get back to the keep fer me and I’l see to the mon.” He kissed the top of her head. “And I’l see to
“Aye, ’tis,” he said over his shoulder. Anxious to be rid of MacLean so he could return to Aileanna, he sprinted along the path. As Rory neared the courtyard, he noted several of his men gathered at the doors to the keep. LORD OF THE ISLES
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Cyril, in the middle of the crowd holding court, looked up at his approach. “Ah, here he is now. I’m certain ’tis a misunderstandin’ that can be quickly put to rights.”
“Cyril, I doona’ recal sendin’ fer you,” Rory said as his men parted to let him through, most unwil ing to look him in the eye.
“I had word the MacDonald is on the move and kent you’d be anxious to sign the papers, so I—”
“Bloody hel , what happened to you, mon?” Rory asked upon getting a closer look at Cyril. Three deep gouges slashed open the left side of his face.
Cyril raised a hand to his cheek, his face flushed. “I . . . ah . . . a branch. I was ridin’ and no’ payin’ attention to where I was goin’. Now enough aboot me—we must see to the contract.”
“Mayhap we should continue this in my study,” Rory suggested, nudging the man forward, ignoring the grum bling at his back.
“Ye may wish to set the men at ease first, Rory. They have taken a strange notion into their heads that yer plan nin’ on marryin’ that . . . that woman.” He gave a dramatic shudder. “Where on earth they got such an idea, I canna’
imagine. You, marryin’ an accused thief.” He gave a deli
cate snort and brought his handkerchief to his lips.
“She’s no thief, Cyril, and Lady Aileanna wil be my wife.”
“Ye canna’ be serious. She stole from ye, and I’ve heard whispers she’d be a witch.”
He narrowed his gaze on the man. “Tread careful y, Cyril. The woman you slander is the future Lady of Dunvegan. Al charges against her have been proven false, to my satisfaction.”
“But what of my sister? What am I to tel her?” The man had a panicked look on his face and a death grip on Rory’s arm.
“’Twas no’ a good match fer either of us.”
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“No’ a good match! Ye need us, mon, ye need us,” the man shouted, looking wild-eyed. He pointed across the courtyard to where Iain assisted Aileanna across the cob
blestones, screaming, “’Tis her! She has ye bewitched.
’Twas the MacDonald’s plan al along. She’l be the death of the MacLeods, mark my words. She’l be the death of al of ye.”
Chapter 19
Gripped by an urge to choke the raving lunatic in the center of an ever-growing circle of onlookers, Rory clenched and unclenched his fists. He shoved open the doors of the keep and bel owed, “Aidan!”
Grabbing Cyril by the col ar, Rory hauled him up the steps. “You’l shut yer mouth or I’l shut it fer you,” he growled. Cyril struggled, his mouth opening and closing like an overgrown mackerel. Rory pushed him toward Aidan, who stood in the entranceway, brow quirked. “What’s he doin’ here?”
Rory didn’t answer. He sought out Aileanna over the heads of his men. She listened to something his brother was tel ing her, but it was obvious she took no reassurance from his words. “Give him some ale, then see him on his way.”
“I think I can manage that. Looks like he lit a fire under that lot,” Aidan said before he led a sniveling Cyril away. Rory released a weary sigh and turned to face his men.
“You listen to that mon, but mayhap you should consider why he’s so anxious fer this match. And doona’ think fer one moment he’s concerned fer the clan’s wel -being. He needs my coin is al , and if any of you question me on this 228
matter I’l no’ have you at my side in battle. Go to the MacLeans and see if you enjoy ridin’ under that mon. Now see matter I’l no’ have you at my side in battle. Go to the MacLeans and see if you enjoy ridin’ under that mon. Now see to yer families. We leave four days hence.”
None too happy, the men dispersed. Rory knew some of what he said would eventual y sink in, at least with some of them. It was not his way to denigrate another, but Cyril left him no choice, and Rory spoke the truth. The MacLeans were in desperate need of his coin, thanks to Cyril’s penchant for gambling. He strode across the courtyard to Aileanna’s side. His bel y clenched at the look in her eyes. Unconcerned his affection for her would be witnessed, he wrapped her in his arms. “You wil na’ listen to him, mo chridhe. The mon’s mad.”
He met his brother’s concerned gaze above her head.
