“Jamie Cameron, ye get yerself out here now.”
Dragging his feet, the little boy emerged from behind a tree.
Ali released a relieved sigh, al owing Connor to help her to her feet.
“Sorry, my lady. I didna’ hurt ye, did I?” Connor asked, his ears pink.
“No, not at al .” She didn’t want him to feel worse than he obviously did and refrained from rubbing her bruised behind.
“Get yerself over here, lad. Ye’l remain with us until I can take ye to yer mam,” Cal um bel owed at Jamie. The boy kicked a stone. “But I doona’ want to.”
“And I doona’ care. I’m thinkin’ ’tis time yer mother tanned yer wee arse, and mayhap I’l be offerin’ to do it fer her.”
Jamie’s eyes widened.
“Cal um, I’l be awhile. Why don’t you take him to Janet?” she suggested quietly, feeling sorry for the little boy.
“Connor and I wil be fine. You sent Cyril back to Dunvegan, and I think he’s too afraid Rory wil send him home to Moira to be much of a threat.”
The big man looked unconvinced. Ali lowered her voice. “It might help if you spent some time with Jamie, Cal um. I’m sure Janet would appreciate it.”
“I doona’ ken, my lady. The laird wil be none too happy if I leave ye on yer own.”
LORD OF THE ISLES
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“I’m not on my own. I have Connor. Don’t worry, I’l deal with Lord MacLeod.”
When Cal um hesitated, she said, “The biggest threat to my safety is Cyril, and since you sent him back to Dunve gan it might be best if that’s where you were so you can keep an eye on him.”
Cal um looked at Connor, who shrugged his shoulders.
“Go,” Ali said, giving him a light push in Jamie’s direc
tion.
“Aye, I’l go, but have a care.”
Ali smiled. “Don’t worry about us. We’l be fine.”
“Thank ye, my lady,” Jamie cal ed out to her, waving happily as he hurried after Cal um. Upon their approach to the Chisholms’ thatched cottage, Ali pointed out a tree standing off from the stand of firs to Connor. “I won’t be too long. Why don’t you have a rest, and I’l ask Maureen for a tankard of ale for you.”
“Thank ye, my lady.” Connor grinned.
Ali spent an enjoyable hour with Maureen Chisholm and the baby. In their short time together she came to the conclusion women were no different in the sixteenth cen
tury than they were in the twenty-first. The important things remained the same: love, family, and friendship. And Ali felt as though she and Maureen were going to be good friends. It left her hopeful that other members of the clan would soon warm to her.
When Maureen tried to stifle a yawn, Ali decided it was time to leave. With a promise to visit again soon, she headed out the door. She expected to find Connor napping under the tree, but he was nowhere to be found.
“Connor,” she cal ed out, scanning the area. Leaning on the stick, she limped to where she’d last seen him.
“Connor, where—” A big hand clamped over her mouth.
“Doona’ make a sound or the lad dies.”
Chapter 20
Gasping for air, Ali struggled to pul the dirt-encrusted hand from her mouth.
“Did ye no’ hear me?” He jerked her head back. “The lad gets it if ye doona’ do as I say.” Her captor ripped the walk ing stick from her hand and flung it against a tree. One half of it rol ed on the pine-needled forest floor to where Connor lay bound and gagged.
The man with the misshapen head stood above him, dagger in hand. “Let’s stick him, Gordie. He’s of no use to us.”
Ali struggled, whimpering beneath her captor’s hand. Her stomach roiled at his stench and her fear for Connor. “No .
. . no.” Her cries were muffled beneath his sweaty palm.
“Nay, I’m thinkin’ he’l make this wee piece behave.”
The man guarding Connor licked his thick lips. “Give ’er to me. I’l make ’er behave.”
“Nay, Mungo. Himself says the MacDonald wil pay fer her return, and I’l no’ risk his anger by returnin’ her to him sul ied by the likes of ye.”
Ali swal owed the bile that rose in her throat. The man that held her pushed her forward and she stumbled. A sharp pain arched up her leg. Her knees buckled, and 240
