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T he following morning Isolde and her sisters, with Grear in attendance, were in the great hall when she saw Colban marching towards them. She stifled an impatient sigh. He had disappeared after dinner the day before and hadn’t joined his men for supper, but he now gave the impression of a man on a mission. And doubtless, Freyja was that mission.

“Yer admirer approaches,” she told her sister, who flashed her an aggrieved glance.

“He admires my healing skill, that’s all. He’s told me so many times.”

“’Tis a form of flattery,” remarked Roisin. “But I’m not convinced he means it.”

“He can mean it or not.” Freyja sounded irked. “’Tis nothing to me.”

She was on her way to meet with her grandmother in the kitchens, to evaluate their winter stocks, but it would be impolite to walk away when a guest was arrowing their way. Even if his target was Freyja, she was the eldest granddaughter and therefore obligated to remain.

Her smile of welcome dropped into a shocked gasp as he drew close, and she caught sight of his livid jaw. “God’s teeth, man, what happened?”

He offered her a grim smile. “I shouldn’t wish to trouble yer ears about it.”

Freyja went up to him and examined his injury. He appeared not to mind when she ran her finger over his jaw. Then her sister stepped back and planted her hands on her hips. “From my observations it seems ye were involved in a fight, Colban.”

“Aye, my lady. A man cannot be condemned for defending himself.”

Isolde narrowed her eyes as suspicion slithered through her. “Ye were attacked?”

“I’ll not cast shade on an unfortunate that Lady Helga has offered charity to.”

Irritation burned through her at his remark. It was obvious to whom he referred. “Are ye telling us Njord attacked ye without provocation?”

Colban’s jaw tightened. He clearly took offense that she hadn’t immediately believed his tale. “’Tis not in my nature to stand by when I see injustice. There’s something about him that doesn’t ring true. He’s out to entrap ye, Lady Isolde. Why else did he wash up on yer beach and claim he’d lost his mind?”

Only when Freyja wrapped her hand around her wrist did she realize she’d taken a step forward. Not that there was any danger of her injuring Colban, since her claymore was stored in the armory.

She drew in a calming breath before she said something to disgrace her foremothers’ legacy of ensuring justice prevailed on the Isle, and even managed a chilly smile.

“We appreciate yer concern, Colban. But only a fool would give himself a head injury and risk drowning in an icy sea for no other reason than to...” she hesitated. What exactly was Colban implying? It certainly bore no resemblance to the intoxicating lightning that sparked between her and Njord whenever they met. Nothing would convince her that he was deceiving them all, and Colban’s veiled denigration of Njord’s honor irked her greatly. “Well, do whatever nefarious deed ye are imagining. Lady Freyja examined him herself and proclaimed it was a miracle he survived.”

“It’s true he would have died on the beach if he hadn’t been found until the morn,” Freyja confirmed, and Colban’s expression darkened further before he swiftly bowed his head.

“I hope ye are right. Lady Freyja, might I entice ye into walking with me before we set sail to Skye?”

“’Tis kind of ye, but I’m on my way to see a patient. Safe travels, Colban.” With that, Freyja inclined her head in farewell and departed.

Since it was expected, Isolde forced the words out. “I’ll speak with Lady Helga about yer accusation. Now, ye must excuse us. If we don’t see ye before ye leave, we wish ye safe passage.”

With that, she continued on her way to the kitchens, while Roisin and Grear made their way to the solar to work on their embroidery. She was still quietly seething when she came upon her grandmother in the buttery, cataloguing the wine.

Her mood didn’t improve when Amma didn’t instantly dismiss Colban’s accusations as nonsense.

“For whatever reason, Colban took an immediate dislike to Njord, and this is his way of trying to turn us against him.” Isolde flashed her grandmother an annoyed glance. “I wouldn’t put it past him to have punched himself in the face to gain our sympathy.”

“That’s most unlikely.”

Aye, it was, but it was surely more likely than Njord attacking him for no reason.

“What is it to him who we take into the sanctuary of the castle, anyway?” She knew she sounded waspish but couldn’t help herself. “The MacDonalds of the Western Isles never turn their back on their kin.”

“That’s true.” Her grandmother turned to face her. “I’ve known Colban since he was a babe. I know his character, Isolde. But ye must remember something: the stranger from the sea is likely not a MacDonald, and not our kin. Ye must learn to keep perspective in all matters to be a fair judge of truth.”

Isolde pressed her lips together, but the injustice burned deep. She didn’t need to ask Njord what had happened. She knew he hadn’t attacked Colban. She may not have known her stranger from the sea for long, but she knew enough about him that he possessed honor, and he wouldn’t tarnish that honor by punching Colban for no reason.

It didn’t stop her from confronting Njord when she next saw him at dinner. He’d once again spent the morning with Patric, and when he took his place beside her at the table, he looked delectably windswept, and the scent of the fresh sea wind clung to him. His smile of greeting sent shivers racing to the pit of her stomach, where they collided into streaks of pleasure, and it was all she could do not to squirm on the bench in disgraceful reaction.

It took her far longer than it should have to realize there were no bruises on his face.

As he dug into his stew with clear relish, she buttered a wedge of bannock and waited until the conversation around the table reached a pitch where they wouldn’t be overheard. Then she leaned in his direction and used the bannock as a shield to hide her words from any curious eyes.

“Colban and his men left for Skye this morn.”

Njord grunted but appeared disinclined to discuss the other man further. She tried again, even though it went against the grain to mention the subject with him, when she knew Colban had fabricated the entire story.

But she would not have anyone accuse her of being unjust in her dealings.

“He told a fine tale that ye had attacked him without provocation. I only mention this so ye’re aware, should anyone else confront ye with it.”

She had the uneasy feeling she hadn’t been quite as neutral in laying out the facts to him as her grandmother would have wished, but it was too late now. Besides, she didn’t need him to deny it. She already knew he was innocent.

Njord gave her a sideways look, his stormy eyes filled with such primal heat it was a miracle she didn’t melt into a puddle of molten need at his feet. Hastily, she bit into the bannock to occupy her lustful thoughts, but it might as well have been hay for all she could taste of it.

“I punched him on the jaw, but only in self-defense.”

A piece of bannock became stuck in her throat, and she coughed, grabbing her cup, and taking a mighty sip to wash the offending particle away. Njord patted her on the back, which was highly ineffective in preventing her from choking, but she appreciated the gesture, especially when accompanied by the concerned expression on his face.

She waved away the curious glances from the others at the table to assure them all was well, before once again turning to Njord.

“He claims ye were both in a fight and he was the one acting in self-defense.” Then she couldn’t help herself. “Did he attack ye without provocation, Njord?”

He sighed. “It’s done, Isolde, and now he’s left Eigg it’s unlikely we’ll meet again. I don’t wish to cause any trouble between MacDonalds.”

“Ye may be a MacDonald yerself.”

“Aye. But I might not. And that’s why I’ve decided to seek passage on the ship leaving for Oban at the end of the week.”

Her appetite fled and she stared at him, aghast. “But ye are not well enough. How can ye travel when ye have no idea if ye have kin waiting for ye at Oban?”

“I can’t stay here, hoping a visitor to the Isle might hold the secret to my identity. But one thing I promise ye: as soon as I regain my memories, I’ll return to Eigg for ye.” Then he leaned closer, his gaze intense, and all she could see was him. “That’s if I have anything worth offering ye, Isolde.”

Heat suffused her heart, unlike anything she’d experienced before, and it was hard not to simply smile at him like a besotted maid of fourteen. No matter how she longed for everyone in the hall to know Njord had all but proposed to her, now was not the time to share that thrilling news.

But she had to make him understand that regardless of his heritage, he was enough.

“Ye can be the sixth son of an impoverished laird, and not own a strip of land to yer name, and ye’d still have plenty to offer me. After all, I cannot leave Eigg even if ye do discover ye’re the laird of a fine castle in the Highlands.”

She expected him to grin, not for a dark frown slash his brow. “That’s not the point. If I possess a fine castle in the Highlands, then I’m worthy to fight for ye, Isolde. I won’t be beholden to Lady Helga’s charity.”

Colban had thrown the word charity in her face when he’d spoken of Njord. She liked it even less when Njord himself uttered the word.

“’Tis not charity,” she hissed. “We’re merely helping ye get back on yer feet. What’s so bad about that?”

He expelled a measured breath. It was clear he was greatly conflicted, and to be sure, she understood that. But right now, he was simply being stubborn.

“Nothing.” He sounded as though he meant the opposite. “But I can’t spend the rest of my life indebted to the benevolence of the ladies of Sgur Castle. How can ye not want to know what kind of man I am, Isolde?’

“I do know what kind of man ye are.” Except she also understood his frustration. If she had lost her memories, wouldn’t she do anything she could to regain them?

Aye, she would. And of course she wanted Njord to discover his past. But she couldn’t shake the sense of dread that if he left Eigg at the end of the week, she would never see him again.

*

For the following three days Isolde went about her daily tasks at the castle, assisting her grandmother in the management of their estates, and practicing her swordplay with Patric as usual. Yet even during the most mundane of duties, a frisson of awareness danced through her blood as though she had overindulged on the finest imported wine from France.

Even when Njord was out of her sight, he was never out of her mind. Their stolen kisses lingered long after they’d parted, and it was becoming harder by the hour to conceal how she truly felt about him.

That afternoon, Roisin joined her in the vault beneath the great hall to assist with the midwinter check of the castle’s non-perishables. They worked in companionable silence for a while until finally her sister let out a great sigh.

“Is Njord still determined to leave when the ship sails?”

Isolde sat on a broken barrel and contemplated the half-completed inventory on her lap.

“He won’t be persuaded otherwise.” She couldn’t help the frustration in her voice. It didn’t matter how often they spoke of it. He would not change his mind. “It’s a foolhardy mission, don’t ye agree?”

“He should stay here, with ye.”

Isolde gave a faint smile at her sister’s impassioned response. So different to Freyja, who thought Njord had set himself a noble undertaking. “Aye. ’Tis a pity his honor is such he won’t contemplate doing that.”

Although, in truth, that wasn’t quite fair. She admired his honor. If only he hadn’t decided to tie it so irrevocably with his need to leave Eigg and discover his identity.

“I’m convinced ye’re meant to be together, Izzie. If he leaves Eigg, he will return, I just know it.”

She wished she had Roisin’s faith.

“I’m sure ye’re right. But I cannot help but fear...” her voice trailed away, and she shook her head. If, God forbid, he discovered something unsavory about himself, she feared he wouldn’t come back to tell her of it. He’d disappear, and she would be left forever wondering.

Roisin grasped her hand. “There’s no need to fear.” She sounded so sure. “He’s yer destiny, and yer key to escaping the Campbell forever.”