Page 29 of Deceived by the Highlander (Daughters of the Isle #2)

I t was early evening when Dunochty Castle came into view through a gap in the woodlands, and fierce pride stabbed through Alasdair at the knowledge he had a home worthy enough for Freyja.

Thank God the earl had seen fit to grant him the castle, for the manor was in no state for a noblewoman such as her.

He’d done his best to maintain the manor during the last two years since it had become his responsibility, but the income from its estate had rendered that task a challenge.

But now, with the revenue Dunochty generated, he’d be able to replace the rotting wood and crumbling stonework.

To make it a suitable second residence for his wife.

Maybe the repairs would even please his mother, but he wasn’t going to count on it.

He’d long ago given up on trying to win her favor.

And now he didn’t even want to. He had Freyja.

And every time she glanced at him, he saw only admiration glowing in her bonny blue eyes.

Admiration and, aye, affection. And maybe something even more.

“Dunochty is a fine castle indeed.”

He turned to Freyja, who was gazing at the magnificent facade of the castle on the summit of the hill, where it commanded impressive views of the surrounding countryside and the coast.

“I’m glad it meets with yer approval.”

“And so near to the sea. I was hoping it was. Isolde will be so envious.”

Despite his pleasure at her evident delight in her new home, he was compelled to defend his friend. “William’s castle is a grand stronghold.”

She laughed and shook her head. “I’m sure it is. Isolde couldn’t speak highly enough of Creagdoun when we last saw her a few weeks ago. I’m merely jesting with ye, Alasdair. My sister would be happy to live in a cave, so long as William was there with her.”

Would Freyja ever say such a thing about him?

It was a moot point. His wife would never want for anything, least of all a roof over her head.

Twilight had fallen when they finally reached the gatehouse with its impressive twin round towers and rode under the mighty portcullis and into the courtyard. Lamps blazed in sconces by the double doors that led into the castle and a sizeable staff stood ready to greet them.

It appeared the earl had entailed a full working complement to him, as well as the castle itself.

After they dismounted, grooms and stable lads took the horses to the stables, and Alasdair led Freyja to the waiting servants as unease gnawed through him. How could he introduce his bride, the mistress of Dunochty, to her servants, when he didn’t even know any of them?

A man stepped forward and bowed his head. “Sir, I’m Raso, the new steward of Dunochty Castle sent by the Earl of Argyll. ’Tis an honor to welcome ye and Lady Freyja. Supper will be served shortly.”

“Thank ye, Raso.” Alasdair held out his arm to Freyja and didn’t miss the bemused expression on her face before she quickly masked it with a smile as she hooked her arm through his.

Damn, he didn’t want her to think anything was amiss. But clearly Raso’s intervention, while relieving him of the embarrassment of not knowing any of his servants’ names or their occupations, had strayed so far from protocol that Freyja’s curiosity was piqued.

He’d brazen it out. He was good at doing that.

With a purposeful stride, he entered the great hall.

Opulent tapestries adorned the walls, and fine lanterns bathed the hall in a warm glow.

The castle’s chattels were more impressive than he recalled, and there would be no need for him to take anything from the manor to make Dunochty more comfortable for his bride.

As he led the way to the stairs, Freyja whispered in his ear. “Dunochty Castle is grand indeed, Alasdair. Why did ye never tell me? I am quite overawed.”

He tugged her closer. “’Tis nothing less than ye deserve. Do whatever ye wish to make the castle more comfortable. I leave it in yer capable hands.”

She gave a small laugh as they climbed the stairs. “So long as I have a good garden for my herbs, I shall be content.”

“It shall be my first priority in the morning.”

They followed Raso along the corridor until he paused and opened a door. “My lady’s chambers,” he said.

Freyja entered the antechamber and gazed around, clearly impressed by the thick rugs that covered the floor, the vibrant tapestries that kept the chill from penetrating the stone walls, and two richly upholstered chairs that sat before the elegant hearth.

A half-open door led to another antechamber that he presumed led, in turn, to the master’s chamber.

A subtle hint from Raso, no doubt. The man had already proved his worth.

“I’ve never seen such splendor.” She sounded awed. “Alasdair, I’m not certain I can be the lady this castle demands.”

He took her hand and led her into the bedchamber before closing the door behind them, leaving her serving woman and Clyde, who shadowed Freyja everywhere, in the antechamber.

“Ye’re exactly the lady this castle needs.” He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her into his arms, and she laughed and smacked his shoulder before hugging him close. “I want ye to be happy, Freyja. That’s all.”

She sighed before trailing kisses along his jaw and a growl burned his throat.

Every time she touched him was as potent as the first time.

Would he ever get enough of this enchanting woman?

“How could I not be happy with an honorable man such as yerself, Alasdair? I do believe ye are single-handedly changing my opinion of the entire Campbell clan.”

He laughed at her outrageous remark, even though that damned thread of guilt would not lay down and die. “That’s a mighty burden to put on any man’s shoulders. I must tell ye, I believe ye’re overestimating my worth.”

“Never. And I’ll not allow another doubting word to escape yer delectable mouth.” With that, she kissed him, and he forgot about everything but his bewitching bride.

*

The following morning, he experienced his first taste of what life would be like, now he was laird of a great estate. Instead of spending time with Freyja, showing her the castle and finding the perfect spot for her garden, Raso approached him as they prepared to make their escape after breakfast.

“A word if I may, sir.”

Damn it. He’d hoped the affairs of the estate could wait until this afternoon. He kissed Freyja’s hand and walked with Raso until they were out of earshot.

“What is it?”

“There are some disputes that need settling in the village,” he said.

“I’ll attend to them after dinner.”

“Unfortunately, these issues are long outstanding, sir. And after dinner, there’s a pressing need to establish that the lairdship of Dunochty is secure. Ye need to be seen about the estate, to quash any rumors that the castle has been abandoned.”

He acknowledged the wisdom of Raso’s counsel. More than that, he appreciated how the steward had the tact not to say such things in front of Freyja.

“I’ll be with ye directly.” He swung about and returned to Freyja. “Alas, duty calls and it seems I cannot get out of it.”

She cradled his face, supremely unconcerned by the servants and his men who filled the hall. And why should she be concerned? She was the mistress of Dunochty, and ancient royal blood flowed in her veins.

“Nor should ye,” she said. “Do not fret, Alasdair. I’m very capable of investigating my new home by myself. Shall I see ye at dinner?”

“The Queen herself couldn’t keep me away.”

“I should have words with her if she tried.” She smiled, and breaking this moment was the hardest thing he’d ever done. But the earl had bequeathed him one of his grandest properties and he had every intention of ensuring it prospered.

For Freyja.

*

After Alasdair left the hall, Freyja glanced at Morag and then Clyde, who stood with his arms folded and a menacing glare on his face.

Good Lord, she couldn’t possibly expect to win the trust of her servants if he insisted on shadowing her everywhere and glowering at anyone who dared to look her way.

She went over to him. “Clyde, I wonder if ye might get to know Alasdair’s men? And find out the lay of the land.”

“Lady Helga’s instructions were clear. I’m to protect ye at all times.”

“Aye, but I’m certain she didn’t mean ye should follow me around once we safely arrived at Dunochty.

Besides, I feel bad for ye. There must be a hundred tasks ye’d rather be doing and I’m certain ye could teach these Highlanders a thing or two about—” she couldn’t come up with anything specific so added brightly, “everything.”

He growled deep in his throat. “’Tis wise to investigate Alasdair’s men.” He sounded reluctant to admit it.

“I agree. Although I can’t imagine anyone that he trusts could be disloyal, but ’tis prudent to be vigilant.”

After Clyde marched off, she heaved a silent sigh of relief.

Now she needed to find a senior servant who could show her around.

It was most odd how Alasdair’s steward had ushered them into the castle after they’d arrived yesterday, without any chance of introductions.

She was certain the ways of the Highlands couldn’t be that far different to those of the Small Isles.

Then again, no castle on any of the Small Isles came close to the grandeur of Dunochty. To be sure, she’d learned from her grandmother how to manage a great stronghold, but she’d never envisaged anything more imposing than Sgur itself.

The trick was to ensure she always looked as though she knew exactly what she was doing, so the servants wouldn’t doubt her.

If only she knew where to begin.

“Milady,” Morag murmured, nodding her head in a significant manner.

Freyja followed her gaze, to where a middle- aged woman stood a respectful distance away.

A chatelaine hung from her waist and relief washed through Freyja.

Finally, someone who could help her navigate the castle and its inhabitants.

She smiled, and the woman came over to them. “My lady,” she said. “My name is Sine. I oversee the domestic arrangements of Dunochty Castle. If ye have any concerns, please let me know.”

“Everything has been most agreeable, Sine. I thank ye for yer attentiveness.”

Sine inclined her head. “I’m gratified all is to yer satisfaction. Would my lady like to see the kitchens and speak with the cook?”

“I should like that very much.”

Sine led the way to the kitchens, which were very well appointed, and the cook appeared most congenial. After discussing various menus, she inspected the larders and butteries, and while stocks were low, there was nothing that couldn’t be resolved.

It was late morning before they emerged from the kitchens, and she still hadn’t seen the one place she truly wanted to.

“Sine, might I see the kitchen gardens? The laird promised I might enlarge it for my own use.”

“Of course, my lady. ’Tis this way.” She led the way outside, where a lackluster herb garden was located next to an array of vegetables.

Although the gardens were substantial, as befit an estate as grand as Dunochty, they looked untended, and somewhat sparse, considering the number of mouths within the castle that needed to be fed.

As she walked along the paths that separated the gardens into segments, a thread of disquiet gnawed through her. Was Alasdair aware that his kitchen gardens were so woefully underutilized?

Certainly, it wasn’t a laird’s responsibility to keep his gardens fully stocked. That was the duty of the seneschal, or, in this case, it appeared to fall under Sine’s purview.

’Twas most strange. To be sure, she hadn’t met every member of the household, but she’d seen many maids about the castle, and the cook had several staff under her. How were they all being fed?

Well, she was here now, and she’d ensure the castle gardens were soon put to rights.

“Sine, we must discuss the replenishing of the kitchen gardens.”

“Aye, my lady. Now the castle is occupied again, I took the liberty of rehiring several locals for the menial tasks about Dunochty. We shall increase production of the kitchen gardens as quickly as possible.”

But Alasdair had only been gone from his castle for a few weeks. Surely he hadn’t dismissed half his staff for such a short absence? Besides, that wouldn’t account for how low on stock they were now.

“I see,” she said, although she didn’t. In fact, it only made sense if the castle had been without a laird for a year or more, and the only occupants had been a handful of the most indispensable servants.

Just how long had Alasdair been laird of Dunochty? Was the reason he’d not made the proper introductions after they’d arrived yesterday because he didn’t know any of his staff?

That was madness. What was she thinking?

And then Mistress Campbell’s voice echoed in her mind.

“I cannot help but suspect yer new bride and Dunochty are connected, Alasdair.”

Unease slithered along her spine, although she couldn’t quite pinpoint why. Mistress Campbell’s overheard conversation wasn’t something she intended to waste any thought on, and yet she couldn’t dislodge the feeling she was missing something obvious.

She took a deep breath. She’d ask him about it at dinner. But for now, she intended to find the perfect place where she could recreate her beloved medicinal gardens.