Angel of Skye by May McGoldrick Page A

spite of himself, Alec found himself wanting to know more.
    His eyes are blue, she realized. They were the same deep azure color as the sky above the Cuillins’ peaks. And for Fiona they were as full of mystery—and as alluring—as the Cuillins themselves.
    “Umm...well...thank you, m’lord,” Fiona said haltingly. Her heart was pounding furiously in her chest. This was becoming quite difficult. She needed to get away. She was losing control of the moment; she was losing control of herself, of her very thoughts.
    She also had to get back before the prioress really began to worry. “I...I honestly do not need your help. Please believe that.”
    “Regardless of what you say, your options have not changed,” Alec said sternly. “Which is it? Dunvegan or...wherever it is you’re going?”
    Fiona paused, weighing her options.
    “If you must know, I am going to the Priory...for medicine,” she said, standing in front of the towering figure. “But are you not at all afraid of my sickness? One of those men back there said I have the plague. The other lepers said the same thing. Does that not concern you?”
    “No!”
    “Why not?” Fiona asked, taking in a deep wheezing breath and preparing to unleash one of her well-practiced coughing fits.
    “Stop that counterfeit cough right now,” he ordered. “Don’t you know you could hurt yourself coughing like that?”
    “I cannot help—”
    Alec reached with his free hand and grabbed her by the shoulder. His action shocked her, forcing her to look up into his eyes. Into those dangerous blue eyes.
    It was the first time Alec looked directly into her hazel eyes. They were the color of the ocean on a summer day. Alec saw within them the same power of the depths that had frightened him for so long...until he had learned to master his fear. But these eyes also drew him on, enticing and yet challenging him.
    “You may be able to gull ignorant dolts like those three fools,” the warlord said quietly, “but I have seen enough of the plague to know you don’t have it. And as for your...other acting, you are neither peasant nor leper.”
    Fiona found herself admiring his features. The long lashes and the stern set of his jaw. And then, as if suddenly remembering who she was, who he was, Fiona became aware of his hand on her shoulder. His hold was anything but gentle.
    “I don’t have to tell you who I am,” Fiona whispered determinedly.
    “No, you don’t. But your options—”
    “They’re not my choices. They are yours. Why don’t you just let me be? Why don’t you go?”
    “I’m through arguing with you, woman.” His voice was now authoritative, commanding. “I’m tired of giving you choices. We’re going to—”
    “Fine,” she said, interrupting quietly. “The Priory. But we must go now.”
    From the hard edge in his tone, she knew he meant every word.
    The warrior released his grip on her shoulder, and as she turned toward the wide path leading through the woods, Alec wondered what had come over him to take hold of her in that way. She definitely had gotten under his skin. That was it. Why, she’d come very close to riling his temper.
    For some time they walked together in silence, each deeply involved in thoughts and the mystery of the other. But the sounds of the spring woods broke into their individual musing, lightening their thoughts the farther they went.
    Quite soon the forest gave way to open fields. A shepherd drove a flock of sheep past the two travelers. No doubt on his way to the pond in the meadow. The warrior thought the lad was about to speak to the hooded figure, but on recognizing Alec, the shepherd started uneasily and said nothing, moving cautiously to the other side of his flock.
    They were now on Priory lands, Alec realized.
    From what he had learned, these lands and all those areas administered by the Church had always been spared the customary violence and looting supposedly controlled by, but actually conducted by, Torquil