Free Angel of Skye by May McGoldrick Page A

that’s my last word on the subject. Do you understand?”
    “Aye, m’lady. But you must understand that I cannot turn my back on those who need me.”
    The older woman’s temper flared again in the wink of an eye.
    “Fiona,” she erupted, “you are intelligent enough to know that roaming the woods...alone...is absolutely—”
    “But m’lady, I know this place, and nothing has ever happened to me that I could not—” Fiona broke in, cringing as she spoke the words, at the thought of what the prioress’s response would be if she knew about this morning’s incident.
    “A young lass is still prey for the dirty, heathenish pigs who call themselves men around here these days. Why, when I was a young girl, men respected a woman.”
    Fiona had heard this speech before, as well.
    “M’lady prioress,” Fiona soothed. “You have been like a mother to me. And I do respect you.”
    “And obey me, too, I suppose you’ll be saying next,” the older woman grouched. “Fiona, why can you not understand that you are my responsibility? The things that you do and say, the way you look, they all are a reflection of me.” Then, really eyeing Fiona for the first time, the prioress stopped short and looked at the young woman crouching before her.
    Suddenly Fiona was uncomfortably conscious of her disheveled appearance. She had hung her cloak on the peg before entering the prioress’s office. Now, following the gaze of the older woman, Fiona’s eyes were drawn to the shoulder of her dress, torn from one of her falls. She could see the fire again building in the prioress’s eyes.
    “What happened to you, Fiona?” she shot at her, forgetting her previous train of thought.
    “I fell, m’lady.”
    “On your shoulder?” the prioress began fiercely. “How did you fall, Fiona? Where did you fall? You tell me what happened.”
    The knock on the door interrupted the prioress’ string of questions. Something happened this morning, she thought hotly, and I am going to find out what. And who could this be? Everyone knows I am not to be disturbed when I am...counseling... Fiona. She shot an angry glance at the young woman retreating to the door.
    Fiona whispered a quick prayer of thanks to her guardian angel for her deliverance. She pulled the heavy door open. But seeing the giant figure that filled the entryway, Fiona realized that she might have sent her prayer off too soon.
     
    Alec watched her expression change from relief to disbelief. She had clearly not expected him to be standing there.
    And he had not expected for her to be so stunning.
    Suddenly the full impact of the young woman’s beauty struck deeply into the warlord’s consciousness. Alec’s body tensed with a response he had not anticipated.
    His eyes took in the figure standing before him. The veil, like a halo, framed the loose strands of red hair and the flawless ivory skin of Fiona’s face. Her deep hazel eyes glowed, showing her change in mood, and Alec watched as she returned his appraising look with her own. As his glance fell on her full red lips, a blush crept from the satin skin of her throat into the milky softness of her cheek.
    Alec found himself responding to the young woman with unexpected intensity. He fought to control the clenched muscles of his body as his heart pounded furiously in his chest.
    “Who is it, Fiona?” the prioress snapped from her chair by the fire.
    Fiona started, surprised by her own bold reaction to the nobleman. She stepped back quickly, taking herself out of the prioress’s line of vision as the laird crossed the threshold.
    The diminutive nun who had spoken with such vigor sat at the fire, and Alec directed his attention to her. She was a tiny thing, and the intelligent eyes nestled in a stern face were scrutinizing him carefully. It took only a moment for her glance to fall on the Macpherson broach that held his tartan in place. Alec watched her frown disappear as she recognized the family crest depicted on the iron