Page 22 of Deceived by the Highlander (Daughters of the Isle #2)

As he pushed open the doors the familiar scent of hay and horse surrounded him in a comforting wave and he breathed in deep, the soft whickers of the horses calming his mind.

This was what Freyja wanted. She’d all but told him herself. The promise Ranulph had elicited from her was simply her official agreement to seal their alliance.

The sound of the kirk bells peeling tore him from his ruminations and he gave a heavy sigh. Everyone on Rum would now know their laird was dead, and it wouldn’t be long before all the people of the Small Isles learned of it.

And then he recalled the letter Miles had given him from Ranulph. He pulled it out and broke the seal and ran his gaze over the brief message.

It was straight to the point and witnessed by Miles’ signature. Once he and Freyja were married, Kilvenie Tower was his.

But there was a second letter tucked inside the first, and he hesitated before breaking the seal, feeling that somehow, in this missive, Ranulph would condemn him. But he didn’t. It was personal, and one line leaped from the page and hammered inside his mind.

I’ve watched ye with her and I see how ye care for her, perhaps more than ye realize yerself.

He exhaled a long breath before once again reading the final line.

Look after my lass, Alasdair.

Aye, he would. With his life. He pushed both letters back into his leather pouch just as a shadow fell across him and for a wild heartbeat he thought it might be Freyja who had found him.

But it wasn’t. Lamont strolled into the stables, a pinched expression on his face as though a foul smell offended his nostrils.

“I offer ye my congratulations, Campbell.” Lamont’s smile didn’t reach his eyes, and Alasdair grunted in response, since he doubted the physician meant a word of it.

Since the peace of the stables was shattered, he prepared to leave.

But it appeared Lamont hadn’t finished. “And my commiserations. Lady Freyja will not be an easy bride, and that’s a fact. ”

Alasdair swung about, irritation at the man’s tone scorching through him. “What’s that?”

“Ye’ve seen for yerself how willful she is, and alas she has been pandered to in these matters her entire life.” Frustration edged Lamont’s words, as though he’d harbored a grudge against Freyja for years.

Alasdair inhaled a long breath. Easy. While every muscle he possessed ached to defend Freyja’s honor, he’d not disrespect Ranulph’s memory by punching his former physician to the straw covered floor. However much he wanted to.

“Is that so.” There was a deadly note in his voice which the older man appeared not to notice, since instead of beating a hasty retreat, he gave a disgruntled sniff and folded his arms.

“Aye. Ye’d be wise to curtail her wild ways once ye are wed, lest she tries using her arcane methods on ye or yer kin and ends up killing them, the way she has Ranulph. There’s a word for women like her, but I’ll not sully the—”

Alasdair forgot about honoring Ranulph’s memory as white-hot fury boiled through him.

He grabbed the man’s robes in his fists, the way he’d wanted to from the first time he’d heard him speak to Freyja and shoved him roughly against the wall.

How dare this misbegotten turd disparage Freyja so blatantly?

Lamont gasped in outrage, his insults forgotten, as he clawed Alasdair’s hands in a futile attempt to escape.

“Don’t ye ever speak of Lady Freyja in such a manner again, do ye hear me? Ye’re not fit to wipe her boots, let alone pass judgement on her healing skills.”

“Unhand me, Campbell, ye scheming knave. Ye may have fooled Ranulph, God rest his soul, but ye cannot fool me. I hope ye get what ye deserve from yer subterfuge and live long enough to regret it.”

Alasdair’s fists tightened on Lamont’s robe before he released him and stepped back, disgust burning through his blood. The physician straightened his crumpled robes and threw him a glare of loathing, obviously believing he’d had the last word.

To hell with that.

“Ranulph was no fool, and if ye believe otherwise, then ye’re a bigger arse than I thought ye were.

” And then he couldn’t stop himself and took a menacing step closer.

Lamont instantly stopped brushing his robes and for the first time, fear flickered over his face.

“Stay away from Lady Freyja, if ye know what’s good for ye. ”

Lamont edged along the wall until he was free of Alasdair’s shadow. The physician’s gaze darted to the stable doors, and he sucked in a harsh breath before pushing himself from the walk and stalking away.

“My condolences, Lady Freyja.” Lamont’s voice was cold.

Alasdair swung about and his heart slammed against his ribs at the sight of Freyja standing by the open door.

Her face was ashen, and she clutched her shawl as though it was a shield against the world as Lamont swept by her.

Dread gripped his gut as she refused to meet his gaze, and he could think of only one reason why.

Had she heard Lamont accuse him of subterfuge?