Page 31 of Deceived by the Highlander (Daughters of the Isle #2)
F our days after leaving Dunochty, Alasdair arrived at Castle Campbell, and after he and the two men who’d accompanied him dismounted, they were taken to the earl, who was on his archery range. Alasdair had no doubt about the reason why he’d been summoned.
To formally hand over Ranulph’s bequest of Kilvenie Tower.
He narrowed his eyes against the glint of the sun. Good God, was that William who was with him? He was pleased to see his friend but was reluctant to discuss the reason why he’d first gone to Rum in front of him.
William, after all, was married to Freyja’s sister, and even though marriages were arranged all the time—including William’s own—Alasdair would far rather keep the details surrounding his own marriage to himself.
The earl spoke to William, who remained where he was, before Archibald strode across the grass and greeted him warmly, grasping his shoulder. “Welcome, and well done, Alasdair. I knew ye wouldn’t let me down.”
Thank God his men weren’t within hearing distance. He pulled out the document Miles had given him and handed it to the earl. “Kilvenie Tower is now in Campbell hands.”
The cursed guilt crawled up from the depths of his soul. Damn it. He thought he’d managed to suppress that for good.
“Excellent,” the earl said as he ran a critical eye over the parchment. “I want a full report. How did ye find the men of Kilvenie? Will there be trouble?”
The stronghold might no longer belong to Freyja, but he was determined to do all he could to keep Kilvenie managed in the way she would have herself. And the earl had just opened the perfect opportunity for him to present his suggestion.
“The men are loyal, and the stronghold is well maintained and protected. I foresee no problems if my lord sees fit to allow the current steward to continue his duties. He knows Kilvenie and the people of Rum respect him.”
“Wouldn’t that be an issue?”
“Miles will do whatever is best for Kilvenie, and for Lady Freyja. He won’t allow any bloodshed in her name.”
The earl was silent, clearly contemplating the best strategy. Alasdair had often witnessed him doing this, when considering the best path forward. At length, his half-brother turned to him.
“Yer plan has merit. We don’t want unnecessary resentment on the Isles. I’m willing to keep the current steward of Kilvenie, based on yer recommendation. And I appoint ye as custodian of Kilvenie, in my name. I’ll have the document prepared for ye before ye leave.”
He hadn’t expected that. With this additional honor, it would be far easier to ensure Freyja’s wishes concerning the stronghold were upheld. “Thank ye. I’ll ensure it prospers.”
“I’ve never had cause to doubt yer loyalty. Ye’ve more than earned this over the last few years. Ye’re now the master of three fine estates, as befits yer status.”
It was only then it struck him. Three estates. Another step closer to his fiercely guarded dream of a barony.
He bowed his head in acknowledgement, and the earl once again grasped his arm. “Go speak with William. I’ve a meeting to attend, but I’ll be back shortly.”
The earl marched off in the direction of his castle and Alasdair joined William.
“I didn’t know ye’d be here,” William greeted him. “We should have brought our lady wives. It would’ve saved me an earful of reproach from Isolde before I left Creagdoun, and that’s a fact.”
“Freyja wasn’t happy we cancelled our plans.” But she hadn’t reproached him. He suspected Lady Isolde hadn’t genuinely reproached William, either, since his friend was grinning at him. “But she understands my loyalty to the earl.”
“Aye, she’d have to.”
What in hellfire did William mean by that?
“What am I missing?” he said.
William shook his head in mock despair. “Nothing, Alasdair. Keep yer hair on, man. ’Tis not intended as a stain on yer character.
I’m here too, aren’t I? The earl is visiting the Queen shortly and wanted an update on Creagdoun’s defenses before he left.
Besides, our lady wives have already made plans to see each other later in the summer.
And don’t forget Lady Helga and Lady Roisin are visiting us in the autumn. ”
Still stinging from William’s barb, although he couldn’t quite figure out why when he’d never made a secret of his loyalty towards his half-brother, Alasdair was goaded to respond.
“I’ll speak to Freyja. She may wish for Lady Helga and Lady Roisin to spend time at Dunochty first before traveling onto Creagdoun.”
He recalled Lady Helga’s enigmatic remarks the first time he’d met her.
When she’d spoken of ambition and how it could blind one.
He still wasn’t certain what she’d meant.
But of one thing he was sure: When she saw Dunochty, she’d know that when it came to his own ambition, he’d ensure it was always of benefit to Freyja.
William shrugged, apparently supremely unconcerned by the possible change of plans. “If Isolde is agreeable, then so am I. I’m certain she’ll understand.”
And what did he mean by that? Goddamn it, why was he second guessing every word that came out of William’s mouth?
“God’s blood,” William suddenly said and grasped his arm. “With all the communication between us through our lady wives recently I’d forgotten I’ve not offered my congratulations on yer marriage. So, congratulations, man. How does wedded bliss find ye?”
Thankful for the change of subject, Alasdair grinned at his friend. “It finds me well. Lady Freyja is more than I ever hoped I might find in a bride.”
“Spoken like a man who is truly enthralled by his wife.”
Alasdair continued grinning like a fool, until he realized William was smirking. His smile faded and doubt gnawed through him.
While he admitted to himself that his bride enthralled him, it wasn’t something he needed the world to know. Or even his closest friends. A man simply didn’t allow a woman that kind of power over him.
It wasn’t the way the world worked.
Yet William didn’t appear to care who knew how much he adored his wife, and it had nothing to do with her status as a MacDonald of Sgur.
He grunted and squinted into the distance.
The sooner this line of conversation moved on, the better.
Unfortunately, he couldn’t think of anything to say since Freyja’s mocking laugh filled his head, as though, even within the sanctity of his own damn mind, she found his disconcertment entertaining.
William, however, didn’t take the hint. “What?” his friend said, sounding irksomely amused.
He didn’t want to discuss it. Except a stubborn part of him did. He glowered at the other man. “A man should not be so captivated by his own wife.”
William’s eyes narrowed, all hint of mirth gone. A heavy silence fell between them which he had no idea how to break, and then his friend’s menacing frown faded. “Ah.” William folded his arms. “Ye’re speaking of yerself.”
Of course he was speaking of himself. “Forget I said anything.”
“Easily done, since ye are talking shit.”
“Marriage,” Alasdair said, before he could stop himself, “isn’t how I thought it would be. But then, I never expected to wed a noblewoman such as Freyja.”
“I always believed marriage would be nothing but a duty to endure. Ye know how I felt about it, until I met Isolde.” William inhaled a deep breath, and Alasdair gave a brief nod of agreement. William had been lukewarm at best about his arranged alliance with a daughter of Sgur.
And then he’d quite literally fallen at her feet.
“I do,” he acknowledged, when it appeared William was waiting for a response.
“If ye care for Lady Freyja even half as much as I care for my Isolde, then ye’re a lucky man. And don’t let anyone convince ye otherwise.”
He wasn’t concerned about that. He knew he was damn lucky to have Freyja. But despite his noble bloodline, he hadn’t been raised in that world, and she had.
Since moving to Dunochty, he’d shared her bedchamber, and she hadn’t remarked on it. But did she secretly wish he’d use his own? Yet surely she would have told him, if that was how she felt. She wasn’t the kind of woman to keep such things to herself.
But the disquiet gnawed, all the same. He didn’t want them to ever use separate bedchambers, never mind reside in separate establishments.
Yet that wasn’t an uncommon arrangement among nobles.
Just because their current sleeping arrangements suited him didn’t mean a thing.
What if the servants treated Freyja with less respect than she deserved, simply because they perceived him to be lacking because of his upbringing? What if Freyja herself thought that?
“I’ve no wish to lead separate lives, but Freyja is of noble blood, and what if that’s something she expects?”
As though pulled by an invisible thread, he glanced over his shoulder, where the castle could be seen beyond the orchard.
“Alasdair.” William’s low voice pulled him back to the present.
“Ye and Lady Freyja must make yer own life as ye see fit. Don’t look at the earl’s situation in this matter.
Lady Jean is the Queen’s half-sister, and the royals do everything differently.
Besides, the earl is always happier when he’s away from his wife, but that’s not the life I want. Do ye?”
He conceded it was not, and a weight lifted from his shoulders. He’d been so fixated on his half-brother’s marital arrangements, not to mention the strained relationship between his mother and stepfather, he’d not looked further.
But William’s own father, a baron no less, had always been most attentive to his late lady wife, and Alasdair couldn’t recall any times when the baron and his lady had lived apart. And it was the same with Hugh’s parents.
He released a long breath. There was no need to mull over nonexistent concerns. If Freyja was unhappy with any arrangements, she’d let him know. Of that he was absolutely certain.
But thinking of Hugh’s parents reminded him of something.