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I solde stirred, an unfamiliar weight wrapped around her, and still half asleep she snuggled closer to the solid warmth pressed against her back. It was comforting, and felt oddly right, and she gave a small smile, luxuriating in the blissful languor that bathed her mind.

A gentle, unhurried breeze caressed her hair. For a few pleasurable moments she sank into the rhythmic sensation of utter peace. Such a strange dream. If only she could stay here. And as soon as the wish floated through her, a discordant note hummed along the edges of her senses.

No, it wasn’t a breeze that teased her hair.

Breathing .

Her eyes sprung open. Dark shadows swathed the chamber, relieved by a subdued, flickering glow from the hearth. William’s arm was securely around her, holding her as close in sleep as it had last night.

Heat suffused her as memories of last night danced through her mind. She had imagined nothing could be as wonderful as those stolen hours in the solar at Sgur. How could anything be as perfect as that, when Njord didn’t even exist?

Yet William had managed the impossible. Her foolish pledge to remain aloof during the necessity of their consummation had turned to ashes the instant he had entered the chamber, and instead of ice, fire had triumphed.

Worse, she couldn’t even summon the energy to berate herself for the betrayal. For all she could think of was how she longed to lose herself in his arms once again.

Her breath stalled in her throat as his fingertips stroked her naked waist. Exquisite tremors raced across her sensitized skin, and she pressed her thighs together, but to no avail. Dampness bloomed, warm and irresistible, a potent reminder of how readily her body had surrendered to William.

That didn’t mean she was enslaved to her lust. She had done her duty last night, and there was no reason to tarry in his bed. She’d rise and start the day. Now she was mistress of his castle, there was plenty to occupy her, and she would never give him reason to doubt her ability.

But instead of following through on her noble decision, desire licked through her as unmistakable evidence of his arousal thickened against the curve of her bottom. Her heart thundered in her breast, and it was increasingly difficult to remain absolutely still when all she wanted was to twist around and have him take her once again.

No. She would not surrender. It was humiliating enough that he knew how easily he could make her forget all her grand principles with nothing more than a touch, without him also guessing how she craved the deeper connection that had once glimmered between them.

Except it never had existed, outside of her mind. Why was it so hard to remember that?

He shifted, his muscles flexing around her, before his mouth found the back of her neck. Despite her best intentions, desire rippled through her as he teased kisses along her shoulder, the overnight roughness of his beard grazing her flesh in a tantalizing caress.

“Good morn, bride of mine.” His throaty greeting was as potent as his touch, and she barely managed a breathy sigh in response. “I trust married life is living up to yer expectations.”

Lust simmered in every word, but there was a thread of amusement too, and it was far too much effort to follow through on her earlier resolve to leave the bed—and him.

“Thankfully, I had few expectations.” She turned her head and couldn’t help smiling when he pushed himself up on his elbow and grinned down at her. His black hair was disheveled, and the shifting shadows across his face made him as devilish as she imagined a barbarous pirate might look.

“’Tis lucky I had a great many, then.” His hand cupped her breast, and she gasped as his thumb circled her nipple. “And I have every intention of fulfilling them all.”

His mouth captured hers, and his kiss was hard and possessive, and need surged through her like a tempest. She attempted to roll onto her back, but he had her trapped beneath him, and as though to reinforce how utterly she was in his power, he shifted his leg over her thigh, pushing her more securely into the mattress.

He broke their kiss, and she panted in his face. “What are ye doing?”

“Ye’ll see.” His husky response caused shivers to race through her as he straightened before pushing a pillow beneath her hips and rolling back onto his knees. It was obvious he was examining her bottom, and illicit thrills singed her tender cleft. “Ye have a delectable arse, my lady.”

“’Tis fortunate ye find it so, since it’s the only one I possess.”

He snorted with laughter. “I’m relieved to hear it.”

She craned her neck and aye, there he was, admiring her behind as though he’d like to devour it. The image should have been alarming, and yet she found it inexplicably riveting. “I trust ye’ll allow me the same consideration to admire yer backside, William Campbell.”

“Any time ye wish, but ye’ll not find it half as alluring as the sight that’s filling my vision right now.”

She doubted that, but she wasn’t going to tell him so. “Ye have a way with honeyed words, and that’s a fact.”

As she knew to her cost when he’d seduced her with pretty compliments on Eigg. But she wouldn’t think of that now, in this twilight haven, when she could pretend the outside world didn’t exist.

“Honey?” He gave a rumble of laughter that was far more intoxicating than it had any right to be. “’Tis the first time anyone has accused me of that.”

How odd. She had so often condemned his honeyed tongue that it was a surprise to recall that until now she’d kept the condemnation inside her head.

Not that William appeared to consider it a reproach, despite his remark, and she couldn’t resist teasing him further.

“Are ye certain? It comes so naturally to ye.”

He grasped a length of her hair and pulled it back from her cheek, his knuckles grazing a sensual path across her shoulders. Then he leaned over her, his breath a seductive whisper against her ear.

“Ye’re insulting me again, aren’t ye?”

“Can it be an insult, if ye cannot tell?”

“Ah, so they’re words of endearment, is that what ye’re saying?”

She could scarcely recall what she was saying, when his fingers traced a seductive path along her body and his unyielding erection pressed along the curve of her bottom. It was most distracting, and illicit thrills raced through her when he slid his hand beneath her and teased her sensitized clit.

“Ye’re putting words in my mouth,” she managed to gasp, as his fingers worked their wicked magic, and his primal growl caused every sane thought to flee her mind.

“Tis not my words I intend filling ye with.”

His promise scorched through her, and she sucked in a ragged breath as he pushed into her. How different it felt, being taken from behind, almost as though it was her first time again. He stretched her flesh that was still tender from last night, filling her more completely than she could ever imagine was possible, and a choked breath caught in her throat.

Last night she’d thought William had shown her everything he could do to her body. How wrong she’d been. This primitive joining was like nothing she had imagined, and involuntarily, she clenched around him.

“Christ, Isolde.” His tortured groan against her ear ignited a thousand white-hot sparks. He rocked into her, and she clutched the sheet as desire spiraled through her. And when he pumped his hot seed inside her, she splintered into a thousand rainbow-bright shards.

*

William held Isolde’s hand as they entered the great hall to break their fast. He could scarcely drag his gaze from his beautiful bride, and any illusions that once he’d had her she’d no longer occupy his every thought irrevocably shattered.

He wanted her more than ever.

Even now, after the enjoyable night and early morning bed sport they’d shared, his cock thickened as though it had been weeks since he’d lain with her. His predicament wasn’t eased when she glanced at him and bestowed a knowing smile his way.

They took their places at the high table, and he sat beside her, trying to ignore the discomfort between his legs. There were at least a dozen essential tasks he needed to attend to this morning, but to hell with that. They could wait until after dinner.

He was devoting this morning to his wife.

“Ye’re looking well pleased with yerself, William,” Isolde said under her breath, and he almost choked on his ale. “I cannot think why that might be.”

“I’m looking at the reason right now.” He grinned when she shook her head in mock disgust, and aye, he had to confess, relief washed through him, too. This was his Isolde from the isle. Not the one who had spat venom in his face when he’d recalled his real name and wed him under duress.

He’d always known she’d come around, once he’d made her his.

Well pleased by events, he once again took her hand and pressed a kiss on her knuckles. How refreshing it was to be master of his own castle, and able to show her how highly he regarded her whenever he wished.

“Hmm.” For once, Isolde appeared at a loss for words, and he had the urge to grin at her again like a besotted fool. And while the prospect of his bride being speechless at his compliment was gratifying, he’d rather not display to the entire hall just how in thrall to his new wife he was.

As he rubbed his thumb against her fingers, his gaze snagged on the ring she wore. It was a magnificent piece of jewelry, but it wasn’t the one he wanted her to wear as the symbol of their union.

Despite how they were wed in the eyes of God and the people of Eigg, his father still wanted a second ceremony at Dunstrunage, so that all the clans in the Highlands could be left in no doubt of the validity of their marriage. Although he didn’t feel the need for it, it was a small price to pay to ease his father’s concerns. And it would be the perfect occasion to present Isolde with his lady mother’s precious ring.

When breakfast was finished, and they rose to leave the table, he wound his arm about her waist. She shot him a scandalized glance but didn’t follow up with a scathing retort, which was merely more evidence that she had settled into their new life.

“This morning,” he said, “I’m showing ye the hidden side of Creagdoun.”

“Ah. I wondered if the castle had any secret passages. ’Tis always a concern when one’s ancestors didn’t live there.”

“Aye.” He understood her meaning. And her concerns. “We searched the castle thoroughly, and ye may rest assured Creagdoun is secure.”

“I’ve never doubted it.”

He led her back upstairs, and as they reached their antechamber she gave him an exasperated look. “Really, William Campbell?”

“My motives are pure, I promise ye.” Then he couldn’t resist and gave her a lingering kiss. It was a mistake, and he swallowed a frustrated groan. “Being with ye addles my brains, and that’s a fact.”

“Ye’re meant to be showing me the hidden passages in the castle. I can’t be left in ignorance of such things.”

“I’ve no intention of leaving ye in ignorance.” He wasn’t certain if she was serious or not, but she didn’t seem very amused. They went through to the master’s chamber, and he took her to the corner nearest the door where a chest stood. “Stand back,” he told her, before shifting the chest aside and rolling up the faded rug that covered the trapdoor. “See? I had no nefarious purpose for bringing ye into our bedchamber.”

She stepped closer, frowning as she stared at the trapdoor set in the floor. “Where does it lead?”

“I’ll show ye.” He pulled open the trapdoor before taking a lantern and holding it over the hole where the steep steps leading downward looked suddenly ominous. “’Tis a bit tricky. The main thing is ye know of it. It leads to—”

“Tricky,” she scoffed, peering into the gloom. “Ye didn’t see the secret places in Sgur Castle, and I can assure ye, they were far trickier than this.”

“Maybe so, but I’ve no wish for ye to fall and break yer neck.”

She laughed at that. “I can’t tell if ye’re serious about my lack of balance or merely jesting. But just so we’re clear, ye’d better not be serious.”

He had been serious, although not for the reason she’d stated, but it was likely wiser to keep his counsel on that. “I’ll go first. If ye slip, I’ll save ye.”

“I won’t slip.”

He eyed her before stepping into the stairwell. She flapped her hand at him in a shooing motion, and with reluctance he went down a few steps to give her room to follow him.

He led her down the spiral staircase until they reached the ground floor, where a passage led between the inner and outer walls of the castle. “Along here,” he said, “we’re behind the wall in the great hall.”

“Spyholes.” She went onto her toes to get a better look. “Have ye ever spied on yer guests, William?”

“Not yet. Never felt the need to.”

“At least we know where not to hang the fine new tapestry the baron gave us. Once we have appropriate tapestries for yer bedchamber, that is.”

“True.” He glanced through one of the spyholes. Malcolm MacNeil, Robert Fletcher, and David Cunningham appeared deep in conversation as they strolled across the hall, and once again the suffocating knowledge wrapped around his chest that one of his men had betrayed him. And he was no closer to discovering who.

*

It was almost dinner time before he finished showing Isolde all the secret places he’d discovered in the castle.

“I’ll have the tapestry and yer rug taken to our bedchamber,” he told her as they made their way back to the great hall.

“No need. I can deal with that.”

Of course she could. He’d need to get used to having a wife who was responsible for the comfort of the castle. It was a heartening prospect, and he smiled at her. Married life was grand indeed.

“Although after we’ve eaten,” she added, “the first thing I plan on doing is exploring the local countryside.”

The hell she was. Grisly images of her being attacked by whoever had tried to kill him flashed through his mind, and he suppressed a shudder. “No. Ye’ll stay within Creagdoun and attend to yer duties.”

“I’ve no intention of neglecting my duties.” There was an unmistakable edge of frost in her voice, and he sighed. She’d misunderstood him.

“I know that, Isolde. I’m not accusing ye of not.” He dropped his voice, so no one would overhear. “But until the man who attacked me is found, I can’t risk yer safety.”

“Oh.” Skepticism dripped from that one word, and he frowned at her, uncomprehending. “So this mysterious attacker is to be the reason for my confinement, is he?”

“Confinement?” Had he heard her right? “Now ye’re the one jesting, surely.”

“How long will it take before ye find this murdering fiend?”

Heat crawled over his scalp, and it wasn’t a pleasant sensation. She sounded as disparaging as when he’d caught her by the armory on Eigg, after Hugh had arrived. “It’s my priority, I assure ye.”

“I’m sure it is.”

Except the scathing note in her voice conveyed the opposite.

He pulled her to a halt at the entrance to the hall and backed her against the wall. “Do ye still doubt my word, Isolde?”

“Does it matter? Ye got what ye wanted. A MacDonald bride.”

He’d got what he wanted? He could scarcely believe she’d thrown such an accusation at him. Except deep inside he acknowledged the truth of her words.

He’d got exactly what he wanted.

“Ye’re wrong,” he said, aggravated that she still held onto her ill-conceived beliefs that he’d lied to her on Eigg. “I never wanted a MacDonald bride until I met ye.”

Confusion flashed over her face. “Honeyed words again.”

She didn’t sound so sure of herself, though, and he pounced on it. “Why would I put on such a charade when we were destined to wed regardless? When ye’ve worked that one out, let me know.”

“It’s a puzzle.” She sounded reluctant to admit it.

He should leave it, since it appeared she was finally coming around to seeing how foolish her conviction was, but he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. “No, it isn’t.”

Slowly, he straightened, and his arms dropped to his sides. She tugged her shawl tighter about her shoulders before casting an inscrutable look his way.

“Maybe.” Not that she sounded convinced, but the fact she’d even admitted the possibility that she was wrong was, he acknowledged, progress.

He cast her a sideways glance as they made their way into the hall. He’d been so sure everything would fall into place once Isolde was his bride. That she’d return, unquestioningly, to the trusting lass he’d lost his head over when he’d simply been her stranger from the sea.

The last thing he’d expected was that he’d still need to prove himself worthy of her. It seemed there was a lot more to married life than he’d blithely presumed.