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I solde stifled a gasp as her gaze locked with William’s. She’d been so sure he was still downstairs and had resolved to spend the rest of the night searching for him, if need be, until she found him and made him see reason.

But he was here, and hope sparked through her. It was plain he had intended to see her. There could be no other possibility as to why he stood outside their bedchamber.

Yet he didn’t say a word.

“William,” she said at last, when the silence stretched so taut between them it hurt her very ears. There were so many things she wanted—needed—to say to him, but they tangled in her mind until they made no sense at all. But she had to say something, to keep him here, since, unaccountably, he now appeared on the verge of retreating. “Have ye eaten?”

She barely kept from wincing at her inane question, but how much easier it was to speak of inconsequential things, rather than confront the fear that gnawed through her heart at the prospect of being banished from Creagdoun.

From William.

“I didn’t mean to disturb ye.” He sounded gruff, and a frown slashed his brow as though he found their encounter distasteful. But since she could think of no reason why he had been standing outside the door unless he’d intended to enter the bedchamber, she could only hope he’d had a change of heart about his intention to send her away. “I should have waited until the morning.”

She tugged her shawl tighter about her shoulders, but it wasn’t an instinctive gesture against the chill in the air. It was the undercurrent of finality in his voice that caused a shiver along her spine.

“Well, ye’re here now.” The words were sharp, but she couldn’t help herself. He hadn’t changed his mind, and foolishly she wished she hadn’t decided to go looking for him. Except that wouldn’t have changed anything, since William had come looking for her . “What do ye have to say to me that cannot possibly wait until morning?”

He pressed his fist against his hip. In another man, the action might indicate impatience or suppressed rage at her retort, but that wasn’t in William’s nature, and the fanciful notion occurred to her that he was protecting something.

Aye, fanciful indeed. The despairing truth was, she didn’t know her husband nearly as well as she had always imagined. Because the William in her heart would never demand she leave him.

“’Twas never my intention to put ye in danger.” This time, there was no mistaking the thread of anger in his tone, and she threw her last remnant of caution to the wind. What did it matter what she said, when he was determined not to listen to her?

“Do ye think ye’re the only man to put his wife in danger because of his name? Do ye imagine the MacDonalds of Sgur have no enemies of our own who would like nothing more than to see us dead? What a mighty opinion ye have of yerself, William Campbell.”

He glared at her as though she had gone mad. Perhaps she had. But she wouldn’t allow him to destroy their marriage under the pretext he was doing it for her. If he wanted to end their alliance, she refused to make it easy on him.

“This isn’t a tournament, Isolde, to see which of us has more enemies. But I knew of the MacGregor threat, and I should’ve ensured it was stamped out before taking ye as my bride.”

“Ye knew Creagdoun was compromised, and Alan MacGregor had infiltrated yer men when ye insisted on our marriage, is that what ye’re saying?” She knew it wasn’t. He hadn’t known any of that until this day, but his stubbornness was infuriating.

“Ye know I didn’t.” He appeared aggrieved by her accusation which, considering his own argument, proved her point, although he obviously couldn’t see it. “But if I’d ensured the castle was fit for ye before forcing yer hand, if I’d had the lady’s chamber restored, that cursed secret passage would’ve been discovered. But I couldn’t wait. I couldn’t risk losing ye simply because ye hated the very sound of my name.”

A spark of guilt burned through her. It was true. She’d hated his name for ten long years and had made no secret of it once his identity had been revealed. But there was a difference between hating a name and hating the owner of it.

“Can ye blame me? I thought...” she hesitated. They’d had this conversation before. But had she ever told him she now believed he had always been truthful with her, during those blissful days in Eigg when nothing had mattered but being with her mysterious Njord?

“I know what ye thought. That I’d trick ye any way I could to make ye mine. I don’t know how I can ever prove I never lied to ye, not with how things turned out.”

The guilt twisted deeper, squeezing her heart. But it wasn’t just guilt. And maybe it wasn’t guilt at all. All she knew was if this was the last time she and William spoke, and she didn’t tell him what he meant to her, she’d regret it for the rest of her life.

“Ye don’t need to prove anything.” Her voice was hoarse, and she swallowed, but it didn’t help. “I know ye never lied to me. Not when I thought ye were Njord, and not now, when I know ye as William.”

He gave a hollow laugh. “Ye’ll never know how I wish we could return to the days when I was no one but yer Njord, the stranger from the sea.”

Once, she had wished for that, too. But she knew better now. “’Twas nothing more than a dream, William. Ye’re needed here, I can see that. Creagdoun needs a strong laird, and she’ll never have a finer one than ye.”

“Or a finer mistress than ye.”

Hope leaped in her breast, warmth suffusing her chilled flesh. He had seen the folly of his hasty words, and had changed his mind—

“It takes a battle to bring down a castle,” he said. “But it only takes one stab of a dagger or sword to—” He sucked in a harsh breath, and a visible shudder racked him. “I took ye from yer isle, where ye were safe, and brought ye to Creagdoun and deadly danger. I was so certain ye’d grow to love the castle, but I was wrong. Ye’ll never be happy here. Yer heart belongs in Eigg.”

An eerie shiver skated along her arms. It wasn’t anger driving him.

It was fear.

For her.

And if she couldn’t reach him, that same fear would drive them apart forever.

She didn’t quite have the nerve to reach out and pull him into her arms, but she took a step closer to him, and although he appeared to brace himself, at least he didn’t back away.

“I once believed I could never be happy living anywhere but Eigg.” Her voice was soft, but when he clenched his jaw and briefly squeezed his eyes shut, she hastily added, “But I was wrong. I can’t claim to love Creagdoun the way ye do, but I’m certain, in time, I will.”

“Creagdoun.” There was a trace of bitterness in his voice as his stormy eyes locked with hers. “Don’t ye see, Isolde? It’s just a pile of rocks, and if it ever falls, it can be rebuilt. Aye, I do love the castle and my lands, and I’m proud to be laird, but it means nothing—nothing, do ye hear?—when compared to how I love ye. From the moment I awoke on yer Isle and looked into yer beautiful eyes, I was lost. I just didn’t know it. Whether I’m Njord or William Campbell, my heart belongs to ye, and it always will. And that’s why I must set ye free.”

He loves me.

It should have been the happiest moment of her life, to know he felt the same as she. But it was because he loved her, he was sending her away. The way he had once been prepared to leave her on her isle to discover who he was, and despair entwined around the bittersweet joy that threatened to undo her.

She took another step closer to him, and this time grasped his hand.

“Do ye think I could ever leave Creagdoun, now I know how ye feel about me? William, I fell in love with my stranger from the sea before we even kissed, and that’s never changed. The reason I was so angry when I thought ye had tricked me is because, even then, I couldn’t stop loving ye. And God help me, I never will.”

He cradled her cheek with his fist, such a gentle, despairing touch, she had the overwhelming desire to weep. Why did he still gaze at her as though the world were ending, when she’d just told him why she could never possibly leave him?

“Ye must return to Eigg, mo chridhe. We both know it. Don’t make this harder for me. Go back to yer isle and live the life ye were born for.”

He was still pushing her away, after everything they had both said, and she pulled back from his touch before she did something unforgiveable. Such as allowing a tear to escape.

“Harder for ye ?” It was a foolish thing to focus on, but for some reason she couldn’t move past it. “What of me? Don’t ye care that I want to stay at Creagdoun—that I want to stay with ye ?”

He swung about and marched to the hearth before expelling a tortured breath. “’Twas only by the grace of God, or sheer good luck, that ye escaped MacGregor. But on yer isle, ye would’ve stood a chance to defend yerself against him. I know how good ye are with a sword, Isolde. But because of me, ye were defenseless.”

And finally, she understood.

She went to his side and grasped his biceps, pushing at his immovable muscles until, with obvious reluctance, he faced her.

“I was wrong,” she whispered, and she cupped his jaw, his day-old beard grazing her fingers. “I always believed if I left the isle, my strength would remain in the earth of Eigg, where the blood of my foremothers has nourished the land for years without number. But ye saw the truth, William. Ye saw what I could not. It’s not the isle. My skills are within me, wherever I may be, but it took MacGregor telling me how he had slain ye and would take yer castle before I could believe in myself.”

His gaze roved over her forehead, where she had slammed into MacGregor’s face to free herself. Tenderly, William traced a finger over the spreading bruise, before he released a jagged breath and cradled her face in his palm, mirroring her own actions.

“Ye fought him?” His voice was husky, but there was a thread of doubt as though he wasn’t certain he had understood.

“Patric’s taught me many tricks to escape a man’s clutches that require only quick thinking and nimble feet. As soon as MacGregor released me, I used my trusty dagger to sever his ear, and then I ran.”

Comprehension dawned in William’s eyes as he appeared to understand where the blood on her shawl had come from. Then admiration replaced realization, and thankfully, and most importantly, the final remnants of fear in his eyes finally vanished.

“Ye bested him.” There was no mistaking the pride in his voice, and a strange, pleasurable pain filled her heart. Once, she’d be so certain that the despised William Campbell would deride her skills with a blade.

How wrong she had been. About so many things.

His thumb brushed across her lips. How could so gentle a caress fill her with such longing?

“What of yer fierce Pict queen ancestor? Ye once told me ye’re blood-bound to ensure her legacy endures. Can it endure beyond the Isle of Eigg?”

The Deep Knowing whispered through her mind, and before she could stop herself, spilled from her lips. “The bloodline of the Isle must prevail beyond quietus.”

All her life she’d been convinced of its meaning.

The daughters of Sgur’s bloodline could not leave the Isle.

But did it really mean that? In the end, even her grandmother had questioned it, by forging an alliance with Bruce Campbell, the baron of Dunstrunage.

The alliance is to keep ye safe .

She still didn’t understand what Amma meant by that, but one thing was for sure. Her path was no longer confined to the Small Isles.

William gave her a quizzical look but didn’t question her, and instead of guilt that she had shared the secret with him, only relief washed through her, as though a burden had been lifted from her soul.

She’d been right to tell him. And although she might never comprehend the full truth of the Deep Knowing, she understood enough to know that by leaving her beloved isle, she was still following her destiny.

“I’ll always be a daughter of the Isle, William. But my heritage is my own, and that will never change, wherever I may live. Her legacy will endure, and maybe it’s simply time for her bloodline to reach beyond the isle she loved so fiercely.”

His hand trailed from her face, along her arm, and grasped her fingers, and his smile was as potent as the first glimpse of sun after a dark winter of rain. “Could ye truly choose Creagdoun over Sgur?”

“I choose ye, William Campbell, over Sgur. Wherever we live, so long as ye’re there, is my home.”

He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers. His warm breath caressed her skin, and he pressed her fingers against his jaw as his gaze caught hers.

“And I choose ye, Isolde MacDonald of Sgur Castle and daughter of the Isle. Ye’re so much more than I ever dreamed a bride of mine could be.” Slowly, he opened his fist, and she gazed at the beautiful gold ring, engraved with sprigs of heather and set with emeralds, that lay on his palm. “Would ye do me the honor of wearing my ring, Isolde? It once belonged to my lady mother, and her mother before her.” He drew in a ragged breath. “I was going to give it to ye, to take with ye to yer isle, so ye’d always have a reminder of the Campbell whose heart ye stole. But it’s yers, whether ye stay or go. And so is my heart.”

She gave a choked laugh and held out her hand so he could slide it onto her finger. Then she flung her arms around his neck and whispered in his ear.

“I’ll never leave ye. And my heart is yers, my noble, beloved, Campbell from the sea.”

The End