Page 26 of Deceived by the Highlander (Daughters of the Isle #2)

She recalled her grandmother’s strange dreams and finally understood. They weren’t disturbing visions, as Amma believed. It was simply her mind telling her the same thing: That two daughters needed to leave, so only one remained.

Relief washed through her that she’d managed to unravel that mystery, and she took Roisin’s hand. “Come,” she said. “I need ye by my side to face the day.”

Because today she had to make the arrangements for Afi’s burial.

*

Alasdair stood on the same beach where just days ago he’d watched Freyja return to Eigg, before Ranulph had fallen into his final decline.

It had been three days since he’d last been alone with her, and God help him, but if he didn’t speak to her soon, he’d shatter every protocol known to man and storm her damn bedchamber.

He exhaled a harsh sigh and raked his fingers through his hair.

Yesterday they had put Ranulph to rest, and he’d intended to stand by Freyja’s side.

But Lady Helga had stood between them, an insurmountable obstacle despite her slight stature, and afterwards she hadn’t allowed Freyja out of her sight.

It was almost as though she knew what had happened in the stables and was determined there would be no opportunity to repeat it.

But that was madness. If she suspected such a thing, surely she would have confronted him? And far from all but ostracizing him, wouldn’t she be pressing for an early wedding to save her granddaughter’s reputation?

Goddamn it, the women of Sgur were a mystery. And just because Freyja’s independent spirit that so entranced him had clearly been inherited from her grandmother, it didn’t mean he had to appreciate Lady Helga’s actions now.

The sea wind buffeted him, and he welcomed it, but it didn’t help clear his mind. Or cool the fire in his blood that had relentlessly burned since the day he’d made Freyja his.

He swallowed a groan but despite his best efforts couldn’t quell the images of Freyja in his arms that flooded his brain. Thank God their wedding was arranged for the end of the week.

Now all that remained was to let her know.

He swung on his heel and made his way back to the stronghold, but the thread of unease that had remained with him since he’d first spoken to the minister of the kirk wouldn’t fade.

He’d fully expected the minister to tell Freyja of his plans two days ago.

In fact, he’d been banking on it, since it seemed she was in no hurry to escape her grandmother’s watchful eye, but surely that news would’ve ensured she found a way to speak with him privately.

Even if only to berate him for going behind her back.

He couldn’t wait any longer. If confronting Lady Helga and requesting a formal meeting with Freyja was the only way to speak with her, then that’s what he’d do.

The message of his impending nuptials had already been sent to the earl, and he’d also sent word to his mother.

Not that he intended to stop at the manor to introduce Freyja.

He doubted his prestigious marriage would change her mind about him, and his pride balked at the prospect of Freyja witnessing how little his mother regarded him.

His priority was to take his bride to her new home.

Their new home. A castle fit for a MacDonald of Sgur.

He strode across the courtyard and then stopped dead as Lady Helga emerged from the stronghold, her unwavering gaze fixed on him as though she’d somehow summoned him.

Was there something in the air that surrounded the Small Isles that gave him such bizarre thoughts?

He shoved the absurd notion aside and bowed his head in greeting. “Lady Helga.”

“Alasdair.”

He waited a heartbeat, fully expecting her to say more, but when it became apparent that she was waiting for him, he wasted no time on pretty compliments.

“My lady, I must see Lady Freyja without delay.”

“Allow me to put yer mind at rest. Lady Freyja hasn’t been avoiding ye. But she needed time to make arrangements for the stronghold’s security and ongoing upkeep, as I’m certain ye’ll understand.”

He did understand, but even as he nodded his assent, a dark twist of guilt ate through him. Once they were wed, Kilvenie Tower would come to him, and when they returned to Argyll, he was duty bound to pass it onto the earl.

None of which he intended to share with Lady Helga, even if he’d been at liberty to do so.

“I’d be honored to assist Lady Freyja in any way to lessen her burden.”

“Aye. Like the way ye arranged the wedding without first discussing it with us.”

So the minister had informed them. “I meant no disrespect, my lady. But I can’t remain in Rum much longer. I must return to Argyll and to my responsibilities.”

Lady Helga inclined her head. “My granddaughter awaits ye in the solar.”

Anticipation thudded through him as he made his way to the solar. It was disconcerting how much he’d missed Freyja these last three days, and he had the uneasy suspicion it wasn’t normal for a man to crave a woman’s company so badly.

Doubtless, once they were wed, he’d settle into more conventional habits where she was only on his mind when they were in each other’s presence. Wasn’t that how other marriages worked?

It was certainly true of his mother and stepfather, who had scarcely acknowledged each other during the last few years before his stepfather’s death. And besides William, who admittedly couldn’t take his eyes off Isolde whenever she was around, none of his friends were wed for comparison.

The only one of his generation who had been married for years was his half-brother, the earl. And Archibald rarely shared the same roof as his wife, never mind utter her name in company.

He paused outside the door to the solar. Was that really the kind of marriage he wanted? One where Freyja lived in the castle, and he lived elsewhere because they were both happier that way?

It didn’t appeal. He thrust the disconcerting thoughts from his head and knocked on the door before entering.

Freyja and Lady Roisin sat behind a desk that was covered in piles of documents. Freyja smiled and made her way across the solar to him as Dubh sniffed his boots, and he gave the dog a quick scratch behind his ears.

She stood before him, and he straightened before taking her hands. Did he dare kiss her, with her sister looking on? He reined in his lust and dropped a chaste kiss upon the back of her hand instead of her lips.

“’Tis good to see ye,” she said. “I’ve missed ye.”

“I confess, I half wondered if ye were trying to avoid me.”

“Never. But there was so much to do.” Then she sighed and glanced over her shoulder at her sister before returning her attention to him.

“Amma wanted everything to be clear in how Kilvenie continues to function, so there’s no misunderstanding when I leave.

The villagers rely on the stronghold, and we cannot give them any cause to worry about their livelihoods. ”

The damned guilt burned through him once again.

If he told her the truth, that Ranulph had bequeathed the stronghold to him upon his marriage to her, he risked her refusing to go through with it.

But that wouldn’t ensure she remained in possession of Kilvenie Tower, since the earl had made it very clear he wanted the stronghold by whatever means necessary.

The prospect of Freyja being humiliated should a battle ensue for Kilvenie turned his guts. Blood would spill, old resentments would resurface, and the end would still be the same.

She’d lose the stronghold.

Belatedly, another thought struck him. He wouldn’t secure Dunochty Castle, either.

“I’ll give ye some privacy,” Lady Roisin said to Freyja, before she gave him a shy smile and left the solar.

The door remained ajar, and much as he wanted to shut it and give them real privacy, he wouldn’t give any cause for gossip to flourish. He’d risked her reputation once, and he’d wait a few more days for her. Even if it killed him.

“Alasdair?” There was a questioning note in her voice, and he sucked in a deep breath. She was clearly waiting for him to respond to her.

“Ye know I’ll help with Kilvenie in any way I can.” Aye, it would belong to the earl, but he’d do everything he could to ensure Freyja’s wishes and concerns were heard.

“I know.” Her smile was gentle as she pressed a hand against his heart, and his guilt ate deeper.

But he was certain she’d understand why he’d kept his counsel when he explained everything to her after they were wed.

He was, after all, oath-bound to the earl not to share the mission.

But the keeping of such oaths didn’t extend to one’s own wife.

“Nothing much needs to change.” Christ, he hoped the earl didn’t intend to bring sweeping changes to Rum.

“Miles will continue as steward,” she said. “There’s no one better who could ensure Kilvenie will prosper. He knows the stronghold and the people of Rum like no other, and they trust him.”

And he’d be sure to recommend the earl continued to allow Miles to remain as steward.

“’Tis a good plan.”

“I know Miles will do everything he can, but I should like to visit the stronghold twice a year, so my grandfather’s bloodline isn’t forgotten.”

“I’m certain that can be arranged.”

“It will be easy enough, whenever we visit Sgur.”

“Aye. Of course.” Damn, he had to change the subject. Skirting around the truth wasn’t only hard, it made him decidedly uncomfortable. “Is there anything further ye wish me to arrange for our wedding?”

She stared at him. “Anything further? Ye mean meeting with the minister? I’d planned on returning to Eigg tomorrow to speak with him about it, but we could go this very afternoon, if ye wish.”

Hellfire. Why hadn’t Lady Helga passed on the message from the minister to Freyja? And she expected to wed in Eigg? That hadn’t even occurred to him. He’d assumed Ranulph had wanted them to marry here on Rum.

“I’ve already spoken with the minister, Freyja, and our wedding is in two days in the kirk of Kilvenie.”

“What?”

“Ye’ve been busy dealing with the affairs of the estate. I wouldn’t expect ye to arrange our marriage as well.”

“But the daughters of Sgur always wed in Eigg, not Rum. Why wouldn’t ye discuss this with me before making this decision?”

“These last few days I’ve barely had the chance to wish ye a good morning, never mind have a serious discussion with ye.

” He cast a furtive glance over his shoulder at the door, to ensure they were still alone, before turning back to her and dropping his voice.

“Ye know as well as I that we cannot delay our marriage.”

Comprehension did not sweep across her face and neither did relief at his foresight.

She appeared, if anything, irked. “I gave ye my word I’d wed ye, Alasdair.

And I’ve no intention of delaying it. I know ye must return to yer castle, but surely ye could’ve waited a few more days until we were back on Eigg. ”

Now he was feeling irked, too. “’Tis nothing to do with me having to return to my castle, Freyja. I won’t have ye compromised and that’s the end of it.”

The irritation on her face slowly faded. “Oh.”

Finally, she understood. Although he still couldn’t fathom why it had taken her so long. Surely all women had a mind to protecting their reputation?

“’Tis possible ye are pregnant with my bairn.

I’ll not allow any whisper to surround ye, or our bairn, if that’s the case.

” The way whispers and rumors had plagued him for years.

Had the earl acknowledged him, doubtless his childhood would’ve been different.

But he hadn’t, and any prestige his father’s bloodline may have bestowed upon him had been worthless.

Until Archibald had welcomed him as his half-brother.

Freyja took his hand. There was a soft smile on her face, and although he was glad that she was no longer vexed, there was something baffling about her countenance that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“Ye’re most thoughtful,” she whispered. “I understand yer haste, although—” She cut herself off, and then pressed a kiss onto the back of his fingers.

Entranced, he lost himself in the endless blue of her eyes as she gave a small nod.

“We shall wed in the kirk of Kilvenie. ’Tis a fitting place, since Afi loved Rum so.

After all, I’m a daughter of Kilvenie too, as well as Sgur, so our ceremony can bind my legacies together. ”

He couldn’t speak of Kilvenie without the thread of guilt that stirred at every mention of its name.

And so he focused on the one aspect she hadn’t raised.

“When we are wed, ye’ll have a new legacy as the mistress of Dunochty Castle.

” And then he couldn’t resist sharing his deepest dream.

“And as God’s my witness, one day ye’ll be the wife of a baron. ”