Page 20 of Deceived by the Highlander (Daughters of the Isle #2)

“I don’t know why Ranulph is so fixed on ye wedding Alasdair Campbell,” her grandmother said. “Whatever the reason, he’s certain this is the right course. And I’m certain the Campbell came to Rum to fulfil our foremothers’ purpose.”

Freyja didn’t believe for a moment their foremothers had anything to do with bringing Alasdair to Rum.

To be sure, she honored the legacy that had been handed down from mother to daughter for generations, but that was different.

It was a sacred promise, a way to ensure their foremothers were never forgotten.

But Amma was seeing hidden signs in disturbing dreams, where there were none.

Besides, Alasdair had told her himself the earl had sent him to pay his respects to Ranulph. And now he was in the middle of a bizarre family upset and instead of fleeing, he wanted to wed her.

Illicit thrills raced through her, converging between her thighs in a delightful cascade, which was most inconvenient when her grandmother gazed at her with such unblinking focus.

But she couldn’t deny, even if she wanted to, that the idea of marrying Alasdair Campbell captivated her in ways she’d never imagined possible before meeting him.

Could she truly leave everything she’d ever known and embark on a strange new future with a man who’d managed to addle her good sense without even trying?

A man who had promised she could make her own rules and protocols in his castle?

But maybe the real question was, how could she not entrust her future with him?

*

Alasdair watched Freyja and Lady Helga until they vanished from sight around the side of the stables, and he exhaled a deep breath. Until he’d met Freyja, he’d not imagined proposing to a woman would be so fraught.

In his experience, a woman wed whomever her guardian told her to.

But then, he’d known before he’d ever set foot on Rum that Freyja MacDonald was unlikely to obey any such command from her grandfather.

And while her fierce love for her land and her formidable foremothers was admirable, he wished she wasn’t so convinced her future was embedded in Eigg.

He wanted her to look forward to their new life together.

Not be unhappy because she was leaving her beloved Sgur Castle.

“Campbell.”

The gruff voice from the direction of the stronghold had him swinging about as Miles approached, and alarm spiked through him.

“Is Ranulph...” He left his words hanging, unwilling to voice the real possibility that the old man had died.

“He’s sleeping.” Miles narrowed his eyes in the direction of the stables, as though he could see through the walls to wherever Freyja and her grandmother had walked to.

After an uneasy silence, Miles returned his attention to him.

“I’ve known Lady Freyja since she was born. I want the best for her.”

“As do I.”

“Aye. Ranulph trusts ye, and that should be enough for me. But listen well, Alasdair Campbell. If word reaches me that ye’ve made her unhappy, I’ll come for ye, so help me God.”

“I’d expect nothing less.”

Miles grunted. Alasdair couldn’t tell whether it was in disgust or approval at his response. Only one thing was certain: Miles expected Freyja to accept Ranulph’s command. He could only hope Freyja herself would reach the same conclusion.

“All right, then. So long as we’re clear about it.” With a menacing frown, as though he was acting against his better judgement, he handed Alasdair an envelope. “Ranulph’s set out the terms concerning Kilvenie Tower after ye’re wed so there’s no misunderstanding.”

“Ranulph is very certain Lady Freyja will obey his will.”

Miles’ smile was grim. “Lady Freyja will follow her heart. Ensure ye treasure it, Campbell.”

It was an intriguing notion to suppose he’d managed to ensnare her heart. It had, after all, been his original intention to make Freyja MacDonald fall in love with him, so that she’d wed him without question.

And then he’d met her, and all his presupposed ideas about her had turned to ash at his feet.

He realized Miles was waiting for a response. Although he didn’t like the sensation of being on trial, he appreciated the sentiment behind it. Miles cared for Freyja as though she were his own granddaughter.

He could scarcely imagine what that was like. The only close blood relative who’d ever cared if he lived or died was Archibald. Not that he was complaining. Thank God he’d found his own family with William and Hugh.

“If I’m fortunate enough to win her heart, ye can be sure I’ll cherish it with my life.”

“’Tis the only way I see her leaving her beloved Sgur. And time runs short.” He gave a brusque nod and Alasdair turned to see Freyja and Lady Helga making their way back from the stables.

What a fine sight she was in her green gown and russet shawl, as the late spring breeze ruffled her glorious hair. It took him a full moment before he realized he was smiling at her like a besotted fool, yet he couldn’t help himself.

It was only when she raised her hand in greeting that he recalled he still held the letter Miles had given him. Hastily, he stuffed it into the leather pouch that hung from his belt before returning her wave. The last thing he wanted was for her to ask why her grandfather had written him a letter.

That was a whole conversation he had no intention of starting before she was his bride and it was too late for her to change her mind about him.