Page 38 of Deceived by the Highlander (Daughters of the Isle #2)

F reyja stood by the castle doors and watched Alasdair and his men ride across the courtyard and through the gatehouse. Her spine was so rigid she feared it might crack, but no one would ever accuse her of not performing her duties as the mistress of Dunochty in the manner that was expected of her.

No one would guess she’d just discovered the real reason why her husband had married her. For all she knew, everyone in Argyll had been aware of it, and the only reason she hadn’t seen it was because she’d been blinded by Alasdair’s charm.

Distress churned her stomach, but she kept a small smile on her face so the servants wouldn’t gossip about the surly Lady Freyja of Dunochty Castle. She did, after all, have a tiny particle of pride left.

The courtyard emptied as the servants went back to their tasks and she was alone, save for Morag, and dear, loyal, Dubh who sat by her feet and gazed up at her with sad brown eyes.

She wasn’t going to think about brown eyes. Lying brown eyes that belonged to Alasdair Campbell.

Amma had been certain her future was with Alasdair, away from Sgur. And because she’d been so enamored with him, she’d allowed herself to be swayed by her grandmother’s words.

But what if Amma was wrong about the Deep Knowing? What if, by leaving her beloved Isle, she had betrayed her foremothers’ legacy and as a punishment was cursed with heartache?

Yet Isolde had found happiness with William. And besides, there were no such things as curses. Damn Alasdair. It wasn’t just her heart he’d destroyed. He’d splintered her good sense too.

A shudder wracked her and she turned and entered the castle as Morag made her way to the kitchens to fetch a drink. She still had to write to Isolde, but what she wanted to say to her sister weren’t things she could put in a letter.

Blessed Eir, how dearly she needed to see her sisters again.

In the bedchamber, she caught sight of Afi’s letter on the floor. For a few moments she merely stared at it before she could summon the energy to pick it up and her gaze drifted over the end of the letter.

If the veil of death were not upon me, I would not force this issue, but I cannot leave my Freyja unprotected. ’Tis for this reason I bequeath Kilvenie Tower to ye, Alasdair Campbell, upon yer marriage to my granddaughter.

Look after my lass, Alasdair.

Afi had signed the letter in his own hand, and she blinked rapidly, willing the tears not to fall. In the end, even her grandfather had been taken in by Alasdair’s charm. So much so, that he’d even signed away her inheritance to him.

And now she was trapped in a marriage to a man who had shattered her heart and her trust, and she had only herself to blame.

He’d never professed to love her when they’d decided to wed, and at the time she hadn’t expected him to. Many marriages weren’t based on love. But she’d respected him and foolishly had imagined it was reciprocal.

She’d even harbored the notion that one day love would come. And so it had. For her.

Why was she torturing herself with memories of what had happened on Rum? But it seemed she couldn’t stop the bittersweet images from unfurling in her mind, yet those happy moments were now forever tarnished with the darkness of deception.

Alasdair had never proposed to her. How strange she’d not realized that before. All he’d said was he needed a wife, and she, who prided herself on being so practical, had read far too much into it.

He had simply gone along with Afi’s pronouncement, and, captivated by his presence all she’d thought was how honorable he was.

Slowly, she went to the window. The shutters were open, and the deeply recessed, arched window had been glazed long ago, another sign of the wealth of the Campbells.

In the distance was the sea, a sight she’d always found comforting since moving to Dunochty, but today all it did was make her homesick for Sgur.

“We’ll speak when I return.”

Alasdair’s cold parting words before he’d left the bedchamber thundered around her head in an endless refrain. How uncaring he’d sounded that her world had fallen to ashes at her feet. Or maybe he hadn’t even noticed. She wasn’t sure which scenario was worse.

But one thing was unmistakably clear: His loyalty to the earl was paramount, and his ambition to become a baron surpassed any fleeting concern he might harbor over the plight of his marriage. Yet why would he care how she felt about the circumstances surrounding their hasty betrothal?

He’d caught her and been rewarded for it. And, doubtless, would continue to be rewarded.

She rested her head against the window recess.

She shouldn’t be so hurt by the way he’d walked out.

He’d always made it very plain where his loyalty lay.

And if she was being honest with herself, it wasn’t the fact that, like so many men, he put his fealty to his earl above any loyalty to his own wife.

It hurt because she’d foolishly believed Alasdair, like William, put his wife before any other.

Well, now she knew the folly of assuming such a thing.

A ragged sigh escaped, and she turned from the sea to gaze around the bedchamber. Alasdair had never used his own, and she’d enjoyed the closeness of waking up every morning with him beside her. She’d imagined he had forsaken his own chamber because he liked being with her, too.

But she was likely wrong about that, since she’d been wrong about everything else when it came to Alasdair Campbell.

He expected her to wait patiently for at least three weeks until he returned from Edinburgh before he deigned to discuss the farce of their marriage. Not that she was sure what was left to discuss, but regardless, he’d left in the middle of their conversation, and without a backward glance.

A flicker of anger stirred deep inside, and she welcomed it, embraced it, because anger gave her strength. She focused on it, feeding it, willing it to burn away the acrid stench of mortification that scorched her soul and scarred her heart.

Damn Alasdair and his earl to hell. She would not wait meekly in Dunochty as Alasdair expected.

She’d return to Sgur, and even if it was only a few weeks’ respite before he came to drag her back to his castle, at least she’d see Roisin, and her grandmother, and once again breathe in the wild, free air of Eigg.

She picked up Dubh and held him close, his warm body a comforting barricade against the rest of the world.

It went against everything she believed in, but she needed to maintain an illusion in front of the servants that everything was well between Alasdair and herself and give the impression her journey to Eigg had been approved by him.

It might sicken her, but at least in this respect she was no fool. If anyone suspected she was leaving Dunochty without his permission, she’d never make it through the gatehouse.

*

It was just before supper when Seoc approached her in the great hall, looking irrepressibly pleased with himself. She summoned up yet another smile as she greeted him.

“My lady,” he said. “A package has arrived for Alasdair.”

She glanced at the large package he carried. Since arriving at Dunochty, Alasdair had received several deliveries, but she’d always known what they were because he’d discussed them with her beforehand.

But she knew nothing of this. And a small pain squeezed her heart. How many other things did she not know about her husband?

“Would ye mind taking it to his private chambers?” she said. “It will be safe there until he returns.”

“Of course.” Seoc drew in a deep breath and grinned at her although she couldn’t fathom why. “I’m glad it arrived before ye left for the Small Isles.”

“Indeed,” she agreed. Seoc was so taken with whatever this package contained, she could only deduce it was something Alasdair had purchased for the physician’s use. Not that she could see why he’d do such a thing. Seoc was independently wealthy.

“I’ll take it now,” he added before strolling out of the hall.

Jane came up to her. “Is anything amiss, my lady?”

“No, everything is fine.” She smiled at the other woman, even though her face hurt from all the smiling she’d done since Alasdair had left the castle.

A part of her wished she could confide in Jane, but despite regarding her as a dear friend she was, ultimately, Seoc’s wife.

And Seoc was undisputedly loyal to Alasdair and would ensure she remained within the confines of Dunochty if he discovered Alasdair hadn’t, in fact, given her permission to visit Eigg in his absence.

“Ye must be so looking forward to seeing yer kin again.”

“I am.”

“I’ve spoken to Seoc,” Jane said as they sat down for supper. “And he’s of the same mind as me. Should ye wish for another woman to accompany ye on yer journey, I’m happy to come with ye.”

Taken aback by the offer, Freyja took the other woman’s hand. Any other time she’d be tempted to take her up on her offer, but how could she speak freely with Roisin and Amma, if Jane was around? “That’s very kind, Jane. But there’s no need.”

“Well, if ye change yer mind in the morning, the offer stands.”

*

Dawn had barely risen when Freyja left her bed the following morning.

She’d tossed and turned all night, and despised herself for missing Alasdair, but there was no point deluding herself.

She’d missed the way he held her at night, how his steady breathing after he fell asleep soothed her, and how she loved snuggling against his familiar body in the early hours of the morn.

Doubtless she’d get over it.

Of one thing she was certain: When she returned to Dunochty, she’d insist he utilized his own damn bedchamber.

The thought didn’t bring her any comfort.

Yesterday, she’d sent a messenger to the port, and her passage was booked for this afternoon. Alas, it was far too early to leave Dunochty, and so after she’d washed and dressed, she went downstairs to find Sine.