Page 10 of Deceived by the Highlander (Daughters of the Isle #2)

A lasdair resisted the urge to drop his gaze from Lady Helga’s piercing stare.

Freyja and her sister had taken him to their grandmother’s private chamber, where two warriors loomed at strategic positions, and the matriarch sat behind her desk as the late evening light flooded through the window behind her, giving her an unnerving, otherworldly glow.

“Amma, may I present Alasdair Campbell. He’s the one I mentioned to ye, who was visiting Afi on behalf of the earl. But it seems Afi has grown worse since I returned home, and Alasdair was kind enough to come to Eigg to let us know.”

Alasdair bowed, and Lady Helga inclined her head in acknowledgement. He had the unsettling notion that she knew exactly why he’d sailed to Rum and made Ranulph’s acquaintance and was judging him for it.

Finally, she spoke. “Welcome to Sgur Castle, Alasdair Campbell. Although I regret ’tis not under happier circumstances.”

“Thank ye, my lady. This is my regret, also.”

“We must leave at once.” Freyja glanced at him, the worry for her grandfather clear on her face, and he had the mad urge to take her hand and offer what comfort he could.

It was an effort not to follow through, but somehow he kept his hands to himself.

He was certain Lady Helga wouldn’t take kindly to such impropriety.

“Ye are not sailing at night.”

Freyja returned her attention to her grandmother. “But it’s still light. We should arrive at Rum before it’s dark. I cannot wait until the morning, Amma. Suppose—suppose that is too late?”

He heard the catch in her voice but before he could do or say something that would seal his fate with Lady Helga—and not in a good way—the old lady addressed him.

“What say ye, Alasdair Campbell? Would Ranulph want his granddaughters to risk their safety by sailing to Rum tonight?”

He knew Ranulph wanted to see Freyja. He was also certain the older man would never want to risk her safety.

Lady Helga’s keen gaze bored into him, and he had the oddest conviction she was testing him. For what, he couldn’t imagine. All he could tell her was the truth as he saw it.

“I cannot speak for Ranulph, my lady,” he said, and he could’ve sworn he saw a glimmer of approval in Lady Helga’s eyes at his response.

“No, ye can’t.” Lady Helga took a deep breath before rising from her chair and walking around her desk before taking both Freyja’s and Lady Roisin’s hands.

“I know ye are both eager to see yer grandfather. But the wind is picking up and the light is fading. We shall all three of us leave here at first light.”

“But Amma,” Freyja sounded outraged. “Surely ye—”

Lady Helga didn’t say a word, but her gaze clashed with Freyja’s, who sucked in a sharp breath and pressed her lips together. After a silence that caused the hair on the back of Alasdair’s neck to rise, Lady Helga inclined her head and released her granddaughters’ hands.

“Freyja, ensure a chamber is prepared for our guest tonight. Roisin, we’ll need an extra place set for supper.”

As he went to follow Freyja from the chamber, Lady Helga stopped him in his tracks.

“Alasdair, a word if ye please.”

Freyja shot him a glance. It was obvious she wasn’t happy with her grandmother’s decision to wait until the morning before they left for Rum, but truth be told, he agreed with the older lady.

Even though it wasn’t far from Eigg to Rum, twilight wasn’t the best of times to sail, and it was never a good idea to underestimate the fickle nature of the sea.

When the door shut behind Freyja, he returned his attention to Lady Helga.

“So the earl is yer half-brother.” It wasn’t a question, but it was clear Lady Helga expected an answer.

“He is, my lady.”

“And he thinks highly of ye, no doubt.”

Highly enough to recognize their blood connection. But he wasn’t about to tell Lady Helga that. As much as he tried to deny it, deep down it still stung that his own father had ignored his existence.

“I believe so.”

She contemplated him for a moment. “He must, if he entrusts ye on such an undertaking.”

Unease slithered through him. Had Ranulph sent a message to her, telling her of the earl’s proposal concerning Freyja?

It was possible. She was, after all, as much Lady Helga’s granddaughter as she was Ranulph’s. Yet until this moment it hadn’t occurred to him that Ranulph would do such a thing.

He hoped to God Lady Helga had no intention of informing Freyja. While he still intended to wed her, he wanted the chance to woo her without the earl’s expectation hanging over her head like a storm-filled cloud.

Besides, he had the feeling the time for telling her about the earl’s motives in sending him to visit Ranulph had passed. If he ignored Archibald’s edict and confessed now, she’d likely never believe another word he said to her.

Since a response was expected, he bowed his head. “Aye, my lady.”

Let her make whatever she wished of that. If Ranulph had confided in her that was out of his hands, but he certainly had no intention of sharing the real reason why the earl had sent him to Rum.

Lady Helga shook her head, as though her thoughts troubled her. “Ranulph is my kin through my late daughter’s husband, and I’m most fond of him. I should be grieved to discover if he’s been misled in any way.”

It was likely wiser to hold his tongue, but her unsubtle implication that the earl was trying to hoodwink the laird of Kilvenie rubbed him the wrong way.

“With greatest respect, my lady, I doubt any man could mislead Ranulph. It’s true I scarcely know him, and aye, he’s lost his vigor, but his mind is sharp. I did not travel to Rum with any plans to deceive him, if that’s yer concern.”

“It is my concern,” she said, which momentarily threw him.

He hadn’t expected her to confirm it so candidly.

Although he wasn’t sure why. Freyja didn’t hold back her thoughts either, and now it was plain to see where she got that trait from.

“Kilvenie is a jewel that I’m sure the earl covets.

Perhaps he thinks to wrest it from a dying man’s grasp. ”

“The earl is an honorable man.” No one, not even Lady Helga, would disparage his half-brother in his hearing.

“I’m glad to hear it. I met his grandfather many years ago. Ambition flows in the veins of every Campbell. But then, ye could say the same about the MacDonalds.”

“Ambition is not a bad thing.”

“I agree. But sometimes it can blind us to what is truly important.”

He knew it was best to simply agree with her and end this conversation before he said something to offend her. Yet despite that good advice, he was intrigued by her enigmatic remark. “Forgive me, my lady, but ye’ve lost me. I’m not certain what ye’re referring to.”

Finally, she smiled, but it was a sad smile as though she recalled things from long ago.

“Ye’re young, Alasdair. There’s no reason why ye would understand.

But one day, perhaps ye will.” She glanced at one of her warriors, who he recognized as Clyde, the one who had accompanied Freyja to Rum, and the man came to his side with his usual grim expression on his face.

“Clyde will escort ye to yer chamber after supper. We shall leave for Rum at first light.”

*

Alasdair followed Clyde back to the great hall, where the long tables that had been against the walls when he entered the castle were now in the center of the room.

A fire burned in the hearth, dispersing the chill that always seemed to cling to castle walls, even castles that possessed many fine tapestries, like Sgur.

He eyed the one closest to him, of a grand hunting scene.

It was a little faded through time but impressive, nonetheless.

Dunochty possessed fine furnishings, and the earl had promised all the castle’s chattels would remain.

But, if need be, he’d take a few good pieces from his late stepfather’s manor to make the castle welcoming for Freyja until they acquired their own appointments.

Anticipation pumped through him at the prospect of taking his bride to their new home. Strange. He’d never thought of the manor as his home, despite having lived in it all his life, yet here he was, thinking such of a castle he’d only once stepped foot inside.

Except the castle would be his, with no childhood memories lingering in every dark corner to blight his existence. Dunochty, the gleaming steppingstone that would take him closer to the barony he coveted, and where he could start a new life with his bride.

But first, he had to win her.

He caught sight of Freyja as she strode across the hall to him with her sister by her side. The flames from the fire glinted on her red-gold hair, and when she smiled at him, lust speared through his groin.

God. Stealthily, he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, but it didn’t help ease his discomfort. There was only one way to quench that flame, but the likelihood of Freyja sharing his bed tonight was as remote as the possibility of him becoming the Earl of Argyll himself.

“Are ye all right?” There was an anxious note in her voice as she caught his gaze. “What did Amma want with ye?”

“Merely to ensure I had no nefarious intentions.” He smiled, so she knew he was jesting, but instead of smiling back she shook her head and let out an impatient sigh.

“I’m sorry for that.” She sounded irked and cast a glance at her sister, who offered a doleful smile in return.

“’Tis not yer fault ye were there when Afi.

..” she frowned and tilted her head at him.

He’d not seen her do that before and he found it utterly bewitching.

“What did happen, Alasdair? Did he have another fall?”

Her question wrenched him from his lustful thoughts but despite his best intentions, desire lingered in his blood like a tethered fever.