Page 30 of Deceived by the Highlander (Daughters of the Isle #2)

I t was midday before Alasdair returned to the castle.

While he’d frequently been called upon to settle disputes between the manor’s villagers since his stepfather’s death, the village attached to Dunochty was easily three times the size of the one under the jurisdiction of the manor.

And by the longstanding nature of many of the villagers’ complaints, it was clear nothing had been done to resolve the grievances for a long time.

Not that he blamed the earl. Archibald had many properties, and each one relied on the integrity of its steward to keep things satisfactory. Maybe that was a reason why the earl had replaced the former steward with Raso.

When he walked into the great hall, two long tables had been set, as well as a smaller table on a raised dais at the far end of the hall. His men were seated, and servants stood behind benches, and he cursed under his breath.

He’d kept Freyja waiting on her first full day as mistress of Dunochty.

He hastened up the stairs and flung open the door to the antechamber. She was at a table, poring over a document, and looked up and smiled at his entrance.

“There ye are. I was thinking of sending a search party out for ye. Ye shouldn’t miss dinner, no matter how busy ye are.”

He went over to her and kissed her before giving Dubh a scratch behind his ears. “Aye. Time got away from me. But ’twas a good morning’s work. How about ye?” He nodded to the documents she’d been looking at before going to the hearth, where a bowl and pitcher sat on a table.

“Likewise,” she said. “I’ve decided where to have my medicinal gardens and have arranged for a wall to be built around it for safety. All being well, I can start replanting within a few days.”

He smiled to himself as he poured water into the pitcher so he could wash the dust of the village from his hands. How like Freyja to be more excited about the thought of her medicinal gardens than the stately appeal of Dunochty.

“That’s good all is well.” He dried his hands and turned back to her, ready to escort her down to the hall, but instead of taking his proffered arm, concern wreathed her face.

“Alasdair, there is one thing that concerns me. The kitchen gardens have been sorely neglected, and it will take a little time to bring them up to a satisfactory standard that a castle the size of Dunochty requires. I’m working with Sine to ensure we build up our reserves as quickly as possible.”

He had no idea who Sine was, but that was a minor concern. “Our stocks of nonperishables are low as well?”

Goddamn it, he hadn’t expected that. He knew they were well supplied with their own livestock and what could be hunted in the nearby forest, but he hadn’t thought beyond that. Yet even if he had, what the hell could he have done about it before formally taking possession of the castle?

Freyja came over to him and took his hand. “I’m not good at pretty words, as ye well know, so I shall come straight to the point. How long have ye been laird of Dunochty, Alasdair?”

The suspicion that she’d one day ask him this had haunted his mind from the moment they’d wed.

He’d hoped he was wrong, even knowing he wasn’t.

Freyja was bound to discover Dunochty was a new acquisition, merely from overhearing servants’ unwary gossip, if nothing else.

What was more, he’d seen the questions in her eyes when they had arrived yesterday, and Raso had cut short the introductions.

It wasn’t something he’d wanted to keep from her, but he hadn’t known how to tell her without her questioning why the earl had suddenly granted him such a prestigious estate.

But now he felt wrongfooted. And had only himself to blame.

He sighed heavily. “Not long. ’Tis a recent acquisition as ye rightly surmised.”

“From the earl?”

“Aye.” God, he hoped she didn’t leap to the obvious conclusion, but there was nothing he could do if she guessed the truth. “I didn’t have the opportunity to check the stores before I was sent to Rum. But regardless, this is my fault. I’ll sort it out.”

She gave his fingers a little squeeze. “Nonsense. How can ye blame yerself for this? But I understand now. Sine said she had rehired some locals, so clearly before ye acquired the castle it was being run on a skeleton staff. That’s why the stocks are so low, not because of any bad management, which I confess was my first worry. ”

“I don’t want ye to worry about anything.”

She laughed. “I’m not a worrier by nature, but had yer staff been mismanaging yer estate, I would’ve been most aggrieved.”

“God help us,” he said with feeling.

“Aye, and don’t be fooled by my gentle nature. I can be formidable when I put my mind to it.” She gave him a stern glare to underscore her point, but laughter glinted in her beautiful eyes.

“Just so ye know, I do happen to think ye have a gentle nature.”

She made a scoffing sound. “Do ye know me at all, Alasdair Campbell? Now come on down to dinner, before all the dishes go cold. And let me tell ye, it’s a real feast the cook has prepared. I hope ye’re famished.”

*

“I’ve heard back from Isolde.” Freyja came into the stables where he was grooming his favorite horse.

To be sure, he had a full complement of grooms and stable lads, but there was nothing as satisfying as doing it himself.

He supposed it was a strange thing to miss from his days at the manor, but there he was.

“Let me guess. She can’t wait to see ye.”

Freyja flapped her letter at him. It had been a week since their conversation when he’d admitted Dunochty had only recently come into his possession, and much to his surprise, she hadn’t pressed him for more details.

He’d been certain she’d ask questions as to why the earl had granted him the castle, but God knew, he was thankful she hadn’t.

“Ye must be a mind reader.” Mockery threaded through Freyja’s voice. She skimmed her letter. “Ah, here it is. ‘I cannot wait to see ye, Frey.’”

He laughed. Since moving to Dunochty, Freyja and her sister had frequently corresponded and decided between themselves that a visit was of paramount importance.

He’d wanted William and Lady Isolde to visit them here, but Freyja had suggested that until their pantries were replenished it would be an unnecessary burden. Besides which, she was eager to see Creagdoun, which her sister appeared to love so dearly.

“Well, it won’t be long,” he reminded her.

“We leave in two days.” They were staying for a week, and it was a novel sensation to be visiting his friend as a guest. They’d known each other for so long, there had never been the need for any formal invitations.

Even after William had become the laird of Creagdoun, Alasdair had merely turned up at his gatehouse without announcing his intentions and been welcomed.

Everything was different now they were both married. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

*

The following afternoon, Freyja was in her medicinal gardens, tending to some of the plants that hadn’t taken kindly to their new home.

Her precious poppies were currently being pampered in a small disused pantry, which she’d claimed as her apothecary, and she was quietly hopeful that they’d survive and would soon be robust enough to replant.

She wiped her hair off her face with the back of her hand and eyed her handiwork. It would take years before her gardens were as established as those she had at Sgur, but her pang of homesickness was relieved by the knowledge that this time tomorrow she would see Isolde.

How much easier it was to stay in touch when only a day’s ride stood between them. Until she’d moved to Dunochty, it had taken several days for a letter to reach Isolde, and then another week before her sister’s reply had arrived on Eigg.

She stretched her aching back, and in the distance saw Alasdair coming her way.

She smiled, even though he was too far away to see, and waved.

Sometimes she wondered if her excitement every time she caught sight of her husband was seemly.

And then reminded herself that even if it wasn’t, she didn’t care.

Alasdair had been true to his word when he’d told her she was free to make her own rules and protocols once she was mistress of Dunochty.

Of course, she ensured the castle was run as befit its grand status, but where other ladies might take to their exquisite embroidery, she spent her time in her gardens and apothecary, and working to earn the trust of the villagers.

She was glad she’d asked Alasdair about the castle the other day.

The thought of trusted servants allowing his estate to fall into neglect had irked her greatly, but now the only thing that puzzled her was why Alasdair had only so recently acquired a property as befit his status as the recognized son of the previous earl.

’Twas different if the late earl had turned his back on him. But he was close to his half-brother, which indicated Alasdair had been part of the family. And both royalty and nobility were known for bestowing great honors upon their favored bastards.

Ah well. There were likely many reasons why he had only lately acquired the castle, and if he wanted to share them with her, he would. She pulled off her gloves as she stepped over a row of seedlings before opening the gate in the wall that separated her plants from the rest of the kitchen gardens.

“A pleasant surprise,” she said as Alasdair took her hand. Although, judging by the expression on his face, he didn’t look as though he found this unexpected visit nearly as pleasant.

“Freyja, mo leannan, I’m sorry, but we need to postpone our visit to Creagdoun.”

Her happy thoughts fled. “What? Why, what’s happened?” Fear gripped her. “Have ye heard from William? Is Isolde ill?”

“Yer sister is fine,” he said hastily. “’Tis nothing of that nature. The earl sent word, and I must leave at once.”

Bemused, she stared at him. “At once?” she echoed. “Ye mean now?”

Who left to start a long journey in the midafternoon?

“Aye. The earl is to be present at the Queen’s confinement and will be leaving for Edinburgh soon, so there’s no time to waste.”

But we were going to visit Isolde in the morning.

She bit back the words, even though inside she burned with the injustice of needing to bend to the Earl of Argyll’s will.

On the Small Isles, they were still within his jurisdiction, but it was a nebulous thing.

He didn’t bother them, and they didn’t bother him.

As MacDonalds of Sgur, she and her sisters and grandmother had been beholden to no one.

Despite her best intentions, she couldn’t stop herself. “I feel the earl should manage his time better. Why couldn’t he give ye more notice? Suppose we’d already left for Creagdoun?”

“The earl’s a busy man, Freyja. We’ll arrange another time to visit yer sister when I return.”

Aye, but that wasn’t her point. It was also clear Alasdair didn’t see her point, either.

“Ye’re a busy man too, Alasdair. Don’t forget that.”

His sudden grin fairly took her breath away and, with it, a good degree of her resentment against the earl. How did he manage to do that, with just one smile?

“I am,” he acknowledged. “But I’ll always be there whenever the earl needs me. He’s my half-brother, and I’ll do anything for him. But there’s something else, Freyja. I told ye before we wed that one day ye’d be the wife of a baron. And the earl is the only one who can grant me that honor.”

“Does a barony mean that much to ye?”

A frown slashed his brow, as though he didn’t understand her question. “’Tis security,” he said. “No one spits in the face of a baron or his bairns. I’ll make ye proud of me, if it’s the last thing I do.”

Bemused, she shook her head. “But I am proud of ye, Alasdair. Why would ye think I’m not?”

He pulled her close and kissed her, as though he never wanted to let her go. Lightning sparked through her, the way it always did when he touched her, and she moaned in protest when he finally released her.

“Hold onto that while I’m gone,” he said, and she wasn’t sure whether he meant the kiss or the fact she was proud of him. In the end it didn’t matter, since she had no intention of forgetting either. “I’ll return to ye within ten days.”