An emotion that Rory didn’t recognize flickered in the man’s cerulean gaze, but quickly disappeared. “’Twas my pleasure.”
They hadn’t seen each other since they’d laid Brianna to rest at Armadale—an al owance Rory had made to the other man’s grief. The MacDonald was thinner than he remembered, but there was a lightness about him now, and Rory hoped he had found peace.
No matter that they might soon face each other on the battlefield, he didn’t begrudge him that. The man had lost more than most, and Rory owed him for not using Aileanna as a pawn. Alasdair MacDonald was an honor able man, and although he’d never let the old goat know it, he had a great deal of respect for him.
“Wil you sup with us before you leave?”
Aileanna frowned. She took Alasdair’s hand and tugged him to her side. “He’s not leaving, Rory. Not until this ridiculous feud is settled.”
Chapter 23
The old goat had the nerve to grin at Aileanna’s pronouncement, and Rory was forced to fol ow in their wake like a minion in their service. He stifled a growl as his brother and Fergus took her in their arms as he longed to, and cooled his heels while Mrs. Mac and Mari happily welcomed her home.
Their greeting of the MacDonald was more subdued, but politely made. Al except Fergus, who genuinely liked the man. The two had developed something of a friendship upon Rory’s marriage to Brianna, and it was obvious it stil endured as they clapped each other on the back on the way into the keep. Rory nudged his cousin, who’d been watching the pro
ceedings with an amused eye. “It looks like ye’l be doin’
some negotiatin’ after al .” Aidan grinned.
“Aye, and it would be best if I kent just what Aileanna’s been sayin’ before sittin’ down with the mon. I ken he’s no’
anxious to let her out of his sight so I’l need yer help. Chal enge him to a game of chess. He’l no’ be able to resist and ’twil give me time to speak to Aileanna alone.”
Aidan raised a brow. “Aye, I’l do it fer ye, cousin, to give ye and yer lady a chance to talk.”
270
Debbie Mazzuca
The smal contingent that accompanied the MacDonald had entered the hal before Rory caught up to Aileanna and Alasdair. “Why doona’ we retire to the upper salon, Alas
dair, and yer men can take their leisure in the hal . We’l rejoin them at the evenin’ meal.”
“I’m in the mood fer a game of chess. Would anyone care to join me?” his cousin asked. Alasdair’s gaze flickered over Rory, and then back to Aileanna. A slight smile caused his mustache to twitch.
“I’d be up fer a game. Fergus?”
“Aye, I ken the last time we played you beat me, so ’tis time for a rematch.” As soon as the words were out of Fergus’s mouth, Rory knew he regretted them. The last time they’d played it was a means to distract themselves on the long days leading up to Brianna’s death.
“Wil ye be joinin’ us, my pet?” Alasdair asked Aileanna, his gaze softening.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to freshen up first.”
“Aye.” He patted her cheek. “And have a wee rest while yer at it. A ride like that takes a lot out of a person, espe cial y one as delicate as yerself.”
Rory managed to stifle his shout of laughter, but Iain, Aidan, and Fergus were not as successful. Aileanna glared at them before she reached up to give the old goat a kiss on the cheek. “Make sure you beat them, Alasdair, for me. I’l see you at dinner.”
“Aye, my pet, I wil . Rory, wil you no’ be joinin’ us?”
Alasdair gave him an intent look.
Rory clenched his teeth. The arrogant old fool would be the death of him, especial y if he continued to fawn over Aileanna as though he had the right. “Aye, but first I have a couple of matters that require my attention. Aileanna.”
He offered her his arm. “I’l see you to yer chambers.”
She took his arm, making an obvious effort not to smile.
LORD OF THE ISLES
271
“Am I one of those matters you have to see to?” she asked when they were wel out of earshot at the top of the stairs.
“Aye, the only matter I wish to see to,” he growled. Tug
ging her into his arms, he lowered his mouth to hers. Desire flared within him as once more he held her lush curves next to him. At her eager response, he deepened the kiss. She moaned, parting her lips to al ow his tongue to tangle with hers. Her arms wound around his neck, and he gripped the round firmness of her behind. Lifting her off her feet, he backed her against the wal . He ground his cock into the soft curve of her bel y. At the sound of footfal s on the staircase, Rory cursed under his breath and broke their kiss. Mrs. Mac approached with a handful of fresh linens.
“Och, there you are. I was wonderin’ where you’d be wantin’
me to put his lordship.”
Rory swept Aileanna into his arms, turning his back to Mrs. Mac so she wouldn’t see his raging cock-stand or Aileanna’s flushed face and passion-fil ed eyes. Just as he was about to tel her exactly where he wanted Alasdair, the woman in his arms took hold of his shoulder and pul ed herself up to say, “Why don’t you put him in Brianna’s room, Mrs. Mac? It might be nice for him to be sur
rounded by some of his daughter’s things.”
“’Tis a wonderful idea, my lady.”
“Wonderful, just bloody wonderful,” Rory muttered as he strode along the corridor toward Aileanna’s room. She frowned at him. “What’s wrong with putting him in Brianna’s room?”
“What’s wrong is by doin’ that”—he shoved open the door to her room—“yer puttin’ him in the room next to mine.”
She rol ed her eyes. “Rory, it’s not like you’re sleeping in the same room with the man. You have a door between the two of you.”
272
Debbie Mazzuca
He set her down on the edge of the bed. “Aye, there is, but the mon wil ken when I’m comin’ and goin’.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
He shook his head, careful y removing the boots from her feet. “Think on it, Aileanna. He’l ken when I creep back to my bed after bein’ with you.”
“He’l just think you had business to take care of.”
He snorted. “The mon’s no fool.”
“Funny, you keep saying he is.”
Rory sat back on his haunches and looked into her beau
tiful face. “Are you tryin’ to make me daft, mo chridhe?”
he asked, stroking her smooth, bare legs beneath the plaid.
“No.” She gave him a slow, sensual smile before she ran the tip of her pale pink tongue along her ful lower lip.
“I ken what I wear under my plaid, but what do you wear?” His voice was low and gruff as he smoothed his palms along the warm, satiny skin of her inner thighs.
“Nothing,” she whispered. Her eyelids fluttered closed, her legs parting ever so slightly. He bunched the fabric to her thighs and tangled his finger in her silky curls, stroking her slick, wet folds. She leaned back on her hands, her hips arched, and he knew he wanted her naked and on the bed beneath him—now. Kissing her knee, he rose to his feet. “I think I’l have you dress in a plaid more often, mo chridhe, but it wil be MacLeod plaid, no’ MacDonald. But right now, I need you out of this so I can show you just how much I missed you.”
He tugged the swath of fabric from her shoulder. She slapped his hands away. “You’re too rough. You’l rip it.”
He shrugged, watching as she careful y unraveled the plaid. “I doona’ care—you’l no’ be wearin’ it again.”
“Yes, I wil . I like the colors. They’re pretty.”
“They may be pretty, but they’re the MacDonalds’ colors no’ the MacLeods’.”
LORD OF THE ISLES