Lord of the Isles

room. She had to go out amongst the people and somehow gain their trust. Ignoring the age-old fear of rejection that knotted her

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stomach, she prepared for a visit with Maureen Chisholm and anyone else who would let her see to them. Consider ing Cyril MacLean’s ranting on the front step of the keep yesterday, she doubted there would be many. She brushed the thought aside, wishing she’d asked Mari when she’d brought her breakfast if Cyril remained at Dunvegan. Ali looked up when the door to her chambers creaked open to see Rory standing there. He looked tired, and the dark shadow on his jaw heightened his dangerous good looks. She shivered. He was dangerous—not someone you’d want to cross—but she didn’t fear him. He wouldn’t hurt her physical y, at least not intentional y, but he could break her heart.

“You’re tired,” she said, watching as he prowled toward her. The white shirt he wore contrasted with his deeply tanned skin, accentuating his powerful broad shoulders and the corded muscles beneath. He sat beside her. “Aye, ’twas a long night and promises to be a longer day. I’m sorry I wasna’ able to come to you last eve. ’Twas late, and I didna’ wish to disturb yer sleep.”

His heavy hand came to rest on her thigh. She’d missed him, and tried not to resent the time he spent away from her.

“That’s al right. I don’t expect you to spend al of your time with me. I know you’re busy.”

Her voice sounded petulant, even though she hadn’t meant it to. Ali didn’t add playing at your war games, however tempted she was. It wasn’t the time. This was no game, and she couldn’t make light of it. His reaction was fierce and swift. He had her backed against her pil ows before she had time to blink. “Do you no’

think I’d rather be with you?” He speared his long fin

gers through her hair, trapping her with his body. His mus

cles rippled beneath the fine fabric of his shirt.

“Rory, I—” He crushed her protest with a demanding kiss. Heat spiraled through her, pooling between her thighs. 232

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His tongue probed between her lips, dueling with hers for supremacy. Her breathing quickened, and she clutched at his shoulders.

Rory lifted his mouth from hers. “I want you now, mo chridhe, but this time I wil na’ be rushed.” He chuckled when she moaned in frustration, giving her a hard, fast kiss. “This night I’l love you long and wel .”

She brought her palm to his roughened jaw. “I’l hold you to that.”

He gave her a lecherous grin before his gaze went to her wrapped foot. “Mayhap ’twould be best if you stayed abed, Aileanna.”

“Why, is Cyril stil here?”

“Aye. The mon is no’ in a hurry to take his leave.”

“I can’t say I blame him. But I don’t want him here, Rory. There’s enough bad feelings over me without him adding to it.”

He sighed. “You doona’ understand, lass. I canna’ just toss him out. ’Tis no’ a highlander’s way. I’l keep an eye on him and you’l take Cal um and Connor with you if you’l no’ stay in yer room.”

“Is it so bad I have to take both of them?”

“Fer now, but ’twil pass.” His gaze softened as though he sensed how difficult it was for her to have so many of his people despise her.

“No, it won’t, Rory, not if you lose men in the battle. It’l just get worse, and I don’t think I’l be able to . . .” He didn’t understand how hard it was for her to know she would be held to blame, distrusted and disliked. He couldn’t know the painful memories it resurrected.

“Aileanna, we go nowhere with this, and I wil na’ dis

cuss the battle with you.”

“Because you won’t listen, you—” Once more he si

lenced her with a hard kiss.

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“Nay, I won’t, so save yer breath. I have much to do and wil na’ see you until later this eve.”

“Busy planning your war strategies, are you?” As soon as Ali said it she knew she shouldn’t have, but his easy dis missal of her made her angry.

“Aileanna.” His voice was rough, tempered steel.

“Wel , maybe I’l be busy, too. If I’m not in my room . . .”

Her tone was flippant, and she raised a shoulder to make her point. “I’l see you tomorrow.”

Before she could stop him, he had his hand beneath her gown. She gasped when he shoved aside the heavy layers of fabric. “What do you think you’re doing?” she sput

tered, but it didn’t take the heated look in his eyes to tel her what he meant to do, and stil , her struggles were half hearted. Her anger melted along with the rest of her as his fingers caressed the inside of her thigh,