Page 25 of Deceived by the Highlander (Daughters of the Isle #2)

I t was late that night before Freyja escaped to the bedchamber she shared with Roisin, and she sank onto the bed and buried her face in her hands. Roisin sat beside her and wrapped her arm around her shoulders, and silence enveloped them in a grief-streaked cocoon.

After leaving Alasdair in the stables, she’d returned to the stronghold, and in the hours since, she hadn’t had the chance to share even a single word with him. Amma had kept her close, supervising all that needed to be done, but ultimately every decision needed her approval.

Even during supper, there had been no respite.

She hadn’t been hungry but had forced herself to eat because that was expected of her.

What a relief it was now, not to have all the eyes of Kilvenie follow her everywhere she went, or surreptitiously attempt to listen to anything she said.

Her grandfather had made no secret that his estate would pass onto her, and now the populace of Rum waited for her next move.

She shuddered, pushed her hair from her face, and straightened. Aye, she was glad to be in her own chamber with her sister where she didn’t need to keep up the pretense that she was in complete control of her weeping heart. But how she wished Alasdair was with her instead.

It felt disloyal. Until she’d met Alasdair, her sisters were everything to her. But now she was torn. Had Isolde felt this way, before she’d started her new life with William?

“Do ye want me to send for a hot drink?” Roisin’s voice was hushed, and she gave her sister a tired smile.

“I should be asking that of ye.” She was, after all, the elder sister.

“Ye have enough on yer mind and I’m not a bairn, despite what ye and Isolde think.

” Roisin took her hand. “When ye wed Alasdair and leave for his castle, I’ll be the only daughter of Sgur to continue the legacy.

I’ll not be able to hide behind either of ye again.

I’ll one day inherit all of Amma’s duties. ”

Guilt stabbed through her at the knowledge Roisin was right. “I’m sorry, Roisin. ’Tis unfair the burden of running Sgur Castle falls upon yer shoulders, when ye are the youngest and have never wanted it.”

“I’ll be all right.” Roisin squeezed her fingers as if to emphasize that point. “And Amma is convinced that by leaving Eigg, both ye and Isolde are still abiding by the Deep Knowing. It is just, I shall miss ye so.”

“Ah, come here.” She hugged her sister tight, blinking back tears, but the thread of unease that had haunted her all day wouldn’t fade.

The Deep Knowing was clear. If the daughters of Sgur left the Isle, their bloodline would die.

But in this generation, for the first time in nine hundred years, there were three daughters of Sgur. Their bloodline would not die, so long as Roisin remained to continue their legacy.

It was a logical explanation. Why then did she have the certainty that she was missing something vital?

*

After a restless night, where sleep eluded her and Alasdair’s face haunted every waking moment and fragmented dream, she finally left the bed she shared with Roisin and opened the shutter on the window to breathe in the fresh, early morning sea air.

Across the mist-shrouded water, she could see her beloved Isle, and another wave of sadness rolled through her. Was Dunochty near the coast? The view wouldn’t be the same, of course, but how she hoped the castle wasn’t landlocked.

Roisin came to her side. “Ye dreamed of Alasdair Campbell last night.”

Startled, Freyja turned to her sister. “What?”

Roisin gave a faint smile. “Ye whispered his name. Several times.”

“I did?” Blood heated her face. Good Eir, what else had she whispered aloud?

“’Twas quite romantic. Do not fear, ye said nothing incriminating.”

Furtively, she glanced over her shoulder, but thankfully Grear was busy sorting out their gowns and was too far away to eavesdrop. On the other hand, she slept at the end of their bed, so doubtless had also overheard whatever Roisin had.

She should leave it well alone but couldn’t help herself. “What else did I say?”

“Ye weren’t clear,” Roisin said, to her relief. “But ye sounded happy, which is all that matters.”

“Hmm.” She focused on the mighty ridge that defined the landscape of her beloved Eigg before sighing and shaking her head.

Who was she trying to fool? She wanted to confide in Roisin while she still could.

Lord, who would she share her secrets with when she was the mistress of Dunochty, and her sisters were hours away from her?

She leaned against the wall and tugged her shawl about her. “I believe I will be happy. I wouldn’t have promised to wed Alasdair if I thought otherwise.”

“When he thinks no one is aware, he looks at ye the way William looked at Isolde last year.”

“Does he indeed?” She smiled, as warmth unfurled deep inside, causing flickers of need to heat her blood.

“Aye. I truly think he fell for ye from the moment he first saw ye. Just as William fell for Isolde.”

She smiled at Roisin, who was an avid believer of love at first sight and all that entailed.

There was no such thing, of course. But since meeting Alasdair, her skepticism of such airy-fae romanticism had significantly dwindled.

“The first time he saw me I was elbows deep helping Ban birth her pups. I doubt he fell for me then.”

Did she doubt it, though? He had certainly managed to instantly intrigue her more than any other man she’d ever met, despite what she’d been doing. It was entirely possible that Roisin was right.

“Well, he is certainly eager to wed ye as soon as possible.”

It wasn’t a question, but Freyja knew her sister, and understood what she hadn’t asked.

“Don’t worry,” she whispered. “Alasdair did nothing that I didn’t want him to do.

He wants us to marry as soon as possible so he can return to his castle, but that is the only reason for haste.

” She paused, as something belatedly occurred to her.

Since Afi’s unexpected request, Alasdair had been most accommodating with his wishes for a speedy wedding.

But was his insistence on arranging their marriage as soon as possible now colored by the possibility she’d conceived his bairn?

It wasn’t possible, since she was in the moon phase where her body was not receptive to a man’s seed.

Sacred knowledge had been passed down from her foremothers of the mysteries of fertility, and they weren’t mysterious at all once one recognized the patterns.

But that, along with the secrets of the herbs that helped to regulate a woman’s monthly cycles, wasn’t knowledge shared with men.

Even though she was quite certain Alasdair wouldn’t fault her for the knowledge, it was powerful nonetheless, and alas, there were too many men like Lamont who’d condemn her for it.

It was always best to keep one’s counsel in such matters.

She eyed her sister. Both Roisin and Isolde had learned of the old ways and another stab of regret pierced her. Would there be anyone in her new home with whom she could discuss her medical learning with?

But for now, she needed to reassure Roisin.

“I do not need to wed him for any reason other than I want to honor Afi’s wishes, and well, I want to for myself.”

Roisin nodded. “I know. And he is not only a favored half-brother of the Earl of Argyll, but a friend of William. Ye’re sure to see Isolde quite often.”

There was a wistful note in her sister’s voice that pierced her heart.

“Well, look,” she said. “Ye know full well ye can come and stay with us for however long ye wish, whenever ye want.” To be sure, she wasn’t certain extended stays had been what Alasdair had meant when he’d made his offer, but that was neither here nor there.

Roisin was her younger sister, and if she wanted to spend half her year at Dunochty Castle, then Freyja would ensure it happened.

“It might be the only way I’ll see Hugh Campbell again.” Roisin offered her a sad smile and Freyja had to concede she was likely right.

“’Tis possible.” And before that happened, she’d make sure Hugh was under no illusion that he could toy with Roisin’s affections if he knew what was good for him.

“Except nothing can come of it, since I’m certain he, like William and Alasdair, would never consent to spending his life at Sgur.”

There was nothing she could offer to counter that. What was it with these Campbell men that made them so stubborn? She sighed and once again gazed out of the window.

Her father hadn’t minded moving from Kilvenie to Sgur when he’d married her mother. But then, he had been a MacDonald of the Isles and had always known the women of Sgur didn’t leave their home.

And, in fairness, Rum was only a short trip from Eigg by boat and could be easily seen on a clear day.

But still, it was perplexing that both Isolde and she were committed to men who had plainly stated they wouldn’t consider uprooting themselves, when all their lives she and her sisters had been so sure the Deep Knowing demanded they remain on their Isle.

It was almost as though something fundamental in their legacy had changed.

Except that was nonsense. She believed in the Deep Knowing because it had been handed down from mother to daughter in an unbroken line, and in her mind it was a tangible thing.

But to even consider the message had somehow shifted implied unseen forces were at work.

And that was something she couldn’t believe, since it balanced precariously on the edge of magic.

No. She was trying to read too much into this because she felt guilty about leaving Roisin.

The truth was simple. The legacy could only be handed down to one daughter, not three.

Why hadn’t any of them considered that before?

Yet until now, it hadn’t crossed her mind that two of them needed to leave Sgur so that the third sister could fulfil the legacy.