Angel of Skye by May McGoldrick Page B

MacLeod and his men. Rumor had it that Torquil was actually afraid of the prioress’ wrath and had kept his men away. From the looks of the carefully plotted fields and the hedged pasture land, Alec thought that the area showed a prosperity that only years of peaceful industry could produce.
    On various occasions since his arrival Alec had had occasion to meet the prioress’ brother David at Dunvegan, and he liked the man. It was from him that Alec had learned of the nun’s iron rule and the respect that she was able to instill in all. It was perhaps because of this that she had, for many years, continued to be a beacon of hope for the people of Skye...and Alec meant to keep it that way.
    “Have you ever chanced to meet the prioress?” he asked, breaking the silence and casting a look at the woman beside him.
    Fiona fought back a wry smile. “Aye, Lord Macpherson, once or twice.”
    “You seem to know who I am, but I still do not really know who you...are,” he said, stumbling over the last word as the woman’s hood fell back, revealing for the first time the full extent of her beauty. Beneath the hood she wore a linen veil that only partially concealed the stunning waves of red hair framing a face of perfect proportion and complexion. The hazel eyes, the straight nose, the full lips, and the sculpted chin...enough to distract any man, but there was something else about her. He was certain that today was the first time they’d met, but he felt he knew her. His mind told him so. But where? How?
    “No, m’lord?” Fiona responded. “How curious! You seem to know well enough who I am not!”
    She looked straight ahead at the path when the warrior turned his gaze on her.
    “I thought this morning you were a fairy,” Alec said. “Crossing my path and then disappearing in a wisp of misty air.”
    Fiona shot a quick look at the warlord. “I can see the old wives’ tales of our island have made an impression on you.”
    “Aye, but you are clearly very real,” Alec continued, admiring the color that was lingering on her cheek. He studied the perfect beauty of her face. His eyes lingered on the heavy drape of her cloak, obviously worn to hide a slender body. “Now I am beginning to think you are more like my falcon Swift.
    “Are you, m’lord?”
    “Aye. Each of you wears a hood, but I should tell you that hood does little to hide what is beneath. In fact, I believe it only served to get in your way when you tried to fly across that meadow back there. Swift, as you saw, flies quite well without her hood.”
    “Swift flies when you allow her to,” Fiona said pointedly. “Her freedom is a matter of your whim, m’lord.”
    “Her desires and mine are not so far apart,” he answered. “Why do you think she returns to my wrist?”
    “I can’t imagine.” She smiled. In spite of her feelings about captive birds, in spite of her feelings about everything, Fiona was beginning to feel quite comfortable as they got nearer to the Priory. But looking up at his strong profile, Fiona felt a pulse-quickening thrill race through her. She turned her eyes to the path ahead, forcing herself to ignore the unexpected emotions that were drawing her attention from his words. But she could not ignore this sudden glow of happiness that was stealing through her.
    “Because she knows that the hood is only worn temporarily and she trusts me.” Alec threw a quick glance at the lass. “Not to mention the simple fact that she...well, clearly enjoys my company.”
    “Is that so?” Fiona laughed. It was the first time he had heard her laugh, and Alec liked the sound of it. “Well, I am sorry to disappoint you, m’lord, but your falcon and I are not so much alike.”
    “You don’t enjoy my company? My charming wit? My courtesy? My manly good looks?”
    “Nay, m’lord,” she answered, pausing for effect and suppressing a laugh before continuing. Lord Macpherson was well aware of his own charms, Fiona thought. “Actually, what I