Final y free, Ali rose unsteadily to her feet. Gordie grabbed her arm. “I didna’ say ye could go anywheres.”
“I have to check on Connor. He works for the MacDon
ald, too. He’s . . . he’s his nephew.”
Gordie dropped her arm, staring at Connor. “MacLean didna’ say anythin’ aboot that.”
Ali snorted. “Why would he? Al he cared about was getting rid of me.” The knowledge Cyril was behind her abduction didn’t surprise her. She only wished she’d sus
pected just how far he would go to get rid of her. Had she known, she would’ve stayed in her room like Rory had wanted her to. Waited for him to come to her, to hold her, to make love to her. Fresh tears clouded her vision as she stumbled toward Connor. “Untie him,” she demanded.
“His uncle wil have your head if he’s harmed.”
“Why did ye no’ say somethin’ before?” Gordie asked, taking the knife to Connor’s ropes.
“It’s a little hard to speak when you have a rag stuffed down your throat.”
He didn’t say another word. Ali knelt at Connor’s side, checking for a pulse. She felt Mungo watching her and suppressed a shudder.
“She lies,” Mungo said. Coming up behind her, he tan
gled his fingers in her hair and jerked her head back. Her pained cry choked off when he pressed the tip of his dagger to her throat. “Why did she fight us afore?”
Ali swal owed careful y. “I . . . I thought you were going to kil us. I didn’t know where you were taking us.” Her heart hammered in her chest, the beat pounding in her head.
“Let her go. Do ye no’ want the coin?” Gordie yel ed at the man.
Ali cried out when the dagger pierced her skin. A drop of blood glistened on the steel point. Gordie grabbed his arm. “Ye crazy bastard, get away from her. Are ye mad? ’Twil al be for naught if ye kil her.”
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Mungo turned on Gordie, pointing the blade at her. “Fer now she lives, but ye’l no’ tel me what I should or should na’ do. If I want ’er. I’l take ’er. She’s a spy. What could the old mon say if I did?”
“Think of the coin, mon.”
Mungo lowered the dagger. “Aye,” he grunted, but he didn’t take his eyes off Ali.
“Water the horses. ’Twil no’ be long before night fal s.”
The big man watched his friend reluctantly fol ow his orders, grumbling under his breath as he did. “See to the lad,”
Gordie told her. Without a backward glance, he fol
lowed Mungo.
“Connor . . . Connor, please wake up,” she cried, patting his colorless cheek. He moaned weakly, but at least he’d made a sound. She gently turned his head to examine him. A knot the size of an egg formed at the site of the wound. Although he’d bled quite a bit, it didn’t look as bad as she first thought. She expel ed a shaky breath. Connor would be okay. If they could survive Mungo and his threats, they would be al right. At least until they had to face the MacDonald. Ali heard a horse whinny and looked up to see Gordie approach. He led both horses back with him. He stopped and withdrew a piece of linen from the pack attached to his saddle. Wiping his hands, his gaze met Ali’s. “He’l no’
threaten ye again.”
Her eyes widened. Streaks of crimson stained the cloth. Staggering to her feet, she limped through the low brush and emptied her stomach.
“’Tis time to be on our way,” Gordie said from behind her. She nodded, and brought the hem of her gown to her mouth. A tremor rocked her body. Mungo was dead. Mur
dered. She reminded herself it could’ve just as easily been her or Connor. Gathering what little strength she had left, she fol owed Gordie.
LORD OF THE ISLES
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“The lad wil be riding with me. Doona’ get any ideas.”
Ali gave a nervous nod, clutching the reins when he helped her onto the saddle. He careful y placed Connor on the front of his mount, then swung up behind him. They rode in silence over hil s covered in heather, past meander ing streams. Her mind a whirlpool of emotions, Ali didn’t see the beauty that surrounded them. She jerked her attention to Gordie when he cal ed out to her, “The lad’s awake.” Ali tapped her heels against the horse’s flanks, urging her mount forward. She had to get to Connor before he gave them away. Coming alongside of them, she took Connor’s hand in hers. He turned to her, a dazed look in his eyes. “Lady Aileanna, what happened?”
She held his gaze, trying to convey everything she couldn’t say out loud. “It’s al right, Connor. Gordie’s taking us to your uncle, Lord MacDonald. It wil be al right.” She squeezed his hand, her nails biting into his palm. His eyes widened. “Aye . . . aye,” he mumbled. She looked up at Gordie. “Is it much farther?”
“Nay, but we’l no’ have much light left. We should set up camp fer the night.”
“No.” She shook her head. “No, let’s keep going.” If they stopped, Ali didn’t think she’d be able to get back on the horse. There wasn’t an inch of her that didn’t ache. And her fear of facing Lord MacDonald would only intensify,
