Page 35 of Deceived by the Highlander (Daughters of the Isle #2)

“I cannot wait until I see Isolde again.”

Alasdair, propped up in bed against a pile of pillows, watched as his wife picked up Dubh to give him a kiss before she pulled on her gown and flashed him a smile over her shoulder.

Lust coiled through him, despite their early morning bed sport, but it was more than lust and he knew it. He’d always known it; from the first time he’d kissed her when they’d stood in the cove on Rum.

Five days ago, when she’d asked him how her grandfather had known they were so right for each other, he hadn’t known how to respond.

Had Ranulph known it? To be sure, in the letter her grandfather had written him, he had stated he could see how Alasdair cared for her.

But he couldn’t dislodge the certainty that Ranulph had forced the issue because he hadn’t seen any other choice for Freyja.

The notion prickled like thorns under his skin. He hoped, somehow, Ranulph could see his granddaughter was content in her new life. And then she’d asked him outright if he thought they were right for each other, and the words he desperately wanted to say to her had stuck in his throat.

Aye, she’d seemed happy enough when he’d told her she was the only woman he ever wanted for his wife. But they were just superficial words, that didn’t convey even an inkling of how vital she was to his very existence.

He doubted he’d ever be able to find those words. They likely didn’t even exist.

“Three weeks isn’t long,” he reminded her. It was enlightening how complicated arranging a trip was, now he and William were both married and had substantial estates to manage. But the date was set, and nothing would stand in its way.

“That is true,” she conceded. “I’ll endeavor to be patient.”

He laughed and flung back the bedcovers. Her gaze drifted to his erection with unbridled interest, and he groaned. “If ye continue to look at me so, I won’t be responsible for my actions.”

“Do ye see me trembling in my boots at such a threat?”

“It wasn’t a threat. ’Twas a promise.”

“Even better.”

He shook his head in mock despair. “Ye’ll be the death of me, woman. Half the morning has gone already.”

She sighed dramatically. “Aye. And as tempting as ye are, Alasdair Campbell, my little lad needs to relieve himself. So we shall both need to wait until this night.”

With that, she flung a shawl around her shoulders, blew him a mocking kiss, and left the chamber.

He shook his head and, still grinning, strolled to his chest that stood against the wall and pulled out a clean shirt. If he had his way, they’d spend all day in bed. And nothing else would get done.

He finished adjusting his plaid and then paused, eyeing the leather pouch that hung from his belt and contained the letter from Ranulph.

A foolish sense of guilt had compelled him to keep the letter close, but it was time to accept that no matter why he had first traveled to Rum, the most important thing was, however it had happened, Freyja was his wife.

The letter was not a burden for him to bear.

It belonged with the document Archibald had given him regarding Kilvenie Tower, in the strongbox he kept in the chamber where he oversaw the running of the estate.

He would do that later today. And to prove he was no longer bound by his misplaced guilt, he untied the pouch from his belt and placed it in the chest with his shirts before closing the lid and leaving the chamber to start the day’s work.

*

They had just finished dinner, and Alasdair was leaving the hall with Freyja.

She wanted to show him how well her gardens were flourishing in their new Highland home, and he was more than happy to oblige.

Not just because a laird should be aware of such things, but because he enjoyed listening to her when she told him of the frankly magical properties some of her plants possessed.

Instead of going through the kitchens to the gardens, they left by the main doors so he could check on the horses first, but the sound of a rider approaching distracted him.

As the rider dismounted some distance from them, his heart sank. Christ, no. He recognized the man as one of the earl’s most trusted messengers. He hoped to God Archibald wasn’t sending for him.

Since there was no help for it, he greeted the man, who dipped his head in a respectful response. “I bring word from the Earl of Argyll.”

Alasdair took the sealed letter and glanced at Freyja. She had a fixed smile on her face, but he wasn’t fooled. She knew, as well as he did, that the chances were high the earl demanded his immediate presence.

He broke the seal and scanned the contents of the letter. As he’d suspected, the earl wanted him to leave Dunochty without delay and meet him at Edinburgh Castle, where he was still with the Queen after her safe delivery of a healthy son.

He took that in with barely a glance. But his eyes snagged on the final, intriguing line.

Old Iomhar of Glenchonnel has finally died and we must discuss a matter which I am certain ye’ll find to yer advantage.

His flare of resentment against the earl vanished as fierce anticipation surged through him. Iomhar Campbell, Baron of Glenchonnel, had no heir. What matter of importance could the earl wish to discuss so urgently, if it wasn’t connected to the transfer of the barony?

“I’m instructed to wait and accompany ye back to Edinburgh,” the messenger said.

“Ye must be famished,” Freyja said before he could respond. “Go to the kitchens, and ye’ll be served a hearty dinner.”

“Thank ye, milady.” The man bowed before handing his horse to a stable lad and making his way to the castle.

Alasdair turned to Freyja, who folded her arms. “Edinburgh? Ye’ll be gone for weeks.”

“I could be back in three weeks. There’s no need to cancel our journey to Creagdoun.”

“Aye, but ye cannot spend three weeks in Edinburgh and then another two weeks away from Dunochty. I believe the earl needs reminding that ye’re a married man now with a grand estate to manage and cannot drop everything at a moment’s notice when the fancy strikes him.”

He had the alarming notion that Freyja wouldn’t hesitate to tell the earl that in no uncertain terms when they met.

“Freyja, ye must understand we are all of us beholden to the earl. But that’s not the main reason why he has my loyalty. He’s my half-brother and he was there for me when he didn’t need to be.”

She eyed him, clearly not understanding what he meant, and why should she?

He had no idea why he’d almost told her of that time in the back streets of Oban, when Archibald had saved him from a thrashing.

The last thing he wanted was to risk seeing pity in her eyes when she discovered the truth of his childhood.

When she realized his father had never acknowledged him, and his bloodline had meant less than nothing until Archibald had formally recognized their kinship four years ago.

She exhaled an exasperated sigh. “Very well. I know he is yer half-brother, and I know ye are close. But I’m allowed to be irked by his high-handed demands, and I am.”

“I understand, Freyja. But listen, there’s—”

“Aye, I know.” She rolled her eyes, and he cocked his head, since there was no possibility she could know what he was about to tell her.

“The last time ye heeded his summons, ye came home with Seoc and Jane, and I’m grudgingly grateful to the earl for that.

But the fact remains, our visit to Isolde and William must once again be postponed. ”

Momentarily distracted by what he needed to tell her, he shook his head. “Not necessarily. I’ll speak to Raso before I leave, and we’ll work something out. I’ll send a messenger once I arrive in Edinburgh, to let ye know how things are.”

“I could always go by myself.”

They’d had this conversation before, the last time he’d been summoned by the earl, and his answer hadn’t changed. “No. I’ll not let ye travel the countryside unprotected.”

“Without ye by my side, ye mean. I’d hardly be unprotected, Alasdair.”

It was what he meant, and he acknowledged she wouldn’t be unprotected even if he wasn’t by her side. Clyde would ensure half a dozen warriors accompanied her, but none of them could possibly protect her the way he could, and that was the end of it.

“If ye’d let me finish what I must say, Freyja, the earl wishes to discuss the barony of Glenchonnel. This could be what we’ve been waiting for, mo leannan. All being well, ye might soon be the Baroness of Glenchonnel.”

She deserved nothing less. He just hadn’t expected the opportunity would arise so soon.

Freyja, however, appeared supremely unimpressed by the possibility.

“I’ve no ambition to be a baroness, Alasdair, but if it’s what ye want then I hope the earl delivers.

I’ll send word to Isolde today to let her know—” She cut herself short and a thoughtful frown creased her brow.

“Wait. I could invite her and William here. Our stores are growing nicely, and ye won’t need to concern yerself about rushing back, should the earl decide to keep ye at Edinburgh for longer than a day or so. ”

“That’s a grand idea.” Why hadn’t he thought of it himself?

When he’d first brought Freyja to Dunochty, he’d wanted William and Isolde to visit, so he could show her sister that he was able to provide for Freyja in the manner she deserved.

But as the weeks passed, the need to prove himself to her family had faded, without him even realizing it.

His wife was happy, here with him, and that was the only thing that mattered.

“Aye,” Freyja said. “I’m full of grand ideas, had ye not noticed?”

He laughed and pulled her close for a lingering kiss. “I had,” he growled against her lips when he finally came up for air. “’Tis one of the many reasons why I wed ye. Now I must go to the stables. Are ye still coming?”

She sighed. “No, ye go and arrange yer journey, and I’ll write the letter to Isolde. It won’t take me long.”