Page 41 of Deceived by the Highlander (Daughters of the Isle #2)

T hey had been traveling at a leisurely pace for a good hour, and frustration twisted through Freyja.

To be sure, they had a wagon which slowed them down, but they could still go a little faster.

Still, she should be thankful she was on her way at all.

If Colban hadn’t arrived when he did, they would’ve only just been leaving Dunochty now.

She rode behind the wagon so she could keep an eye on Dubh, who was most miserable at being confined to his basket.

It was clear from Colban’s attitude that he’d expected her to ride up front beside him, and where his men were.

But at least this way Dubh could see her from where his basket was wedged between her chest and casket.

And her darling lad’s peace of mind was far more important to her than appeasing Colban’s pride, even if she was grateful to him.

Clyde and Morag rode either side of her, and Alasdair’s men surrounded them, taking turns to drive the wagon. There couldn’t be a safer way to travel, and yet Alasdair’s words haunted her mind.

“I’ll not let ye travel the countryside unprotected.”

They had both known what he really meant was he wouldn’t allow her to travel without him by her side. Yet here she was, and not even traveling to Creagdoun, but all the way to Eigg.

And yet still a stubborn, stupid part of her wished Alasdair was, indeed, by her side.

She shook her head, trying to force him from her mind but he remained, like a ghostly shadow darkening her every thought. Did he ever think of her when they were apart? Until yesterday, she’d harbored the fanciful notion he did.

It was time to stop the romantic nonsense.

Her marriage was nothing more than another political alliance, like so many noble marriages were.

There was nothing special about the connection between Alasdair and herself, and if she’d kept her wits about her, instead of letting his pretty words seduce every last grain of good sense she’d ever possessed, she’d have known it.

She forcibly relaxed her grip on the reins, adjusted her satchel, and breathed in deep.

Enough. She couldn’t brood on the state of her marriage when Amma needed her.

And no longer could she unburden herself when she arrived at Sgur.

Roisin would need her strength, and Amma needed her healing skills.

With a resigned sigh she focused ahead where Colban and Peter were deep in conversation, and for some reason an uneasy shiver crawled along her arms. Did Colban always spend so much time in the Highlands?

Maybe he did. It wasn’t her concern how he spent his time. But instead of letting the matter rest, the odd prospect of his uncle having been on Eigg at the exact moment when Amma had fallen ill prickled through her mind.

She couldn’t remember a single time when Colban’s uncle had visited Sgur Castle. Why had he been there?

And why hadn’t Colban answered her when she’d asked what was wrong with her grandmother? Surely, his uncle would have told him. Yet Colban had glided over her question, and with everything happening so fast, she hadn’t pressed him.

Something didn’t feel quite right, but she couldn’t fathom what.

She was certain that when Colban had arrived at Dunochty, five men had accompanied him, including his cousin Peter.

But now there were only four men. Maybe she was just suspicious because she was tired, and her trust had taken a beating.

She gave Clyde a sideways glance. His grim expression didn’t ease her troubled thoughts. Then again, he was close to Lady Helga and was doubtless worried in his own stoic way.

The sooner they reached Sgur, the sooner they could put their minds to rest.

*

Another hour passed, and as they approached a village Colban rode to her side. “Lady Freyja, we’ll stop here for a while so ye might refresh yerself.”

“I have no need to refresh myself, Colban.” Somehow, she managed to keep the irritation from her voice. Why would he think she needed a rest after merely two hours in the saddle? Now if he’d suggested Dubh needed a break to stretch his legs and relieve himself, that would be a different matter.

“’Tis no trouble,” he said, as though she’d expressed it was. “The men will understand. I’ll secure a private room for yer use in the tavern.”

With that, he rode off, and she exhaled a frustrated breath. Alasdair wouldn’t have presumed to know whether she needed to rest or not, and neither would he have dismissed her reply as though her opinion was of no consequence.

Curse the man, why did she remember his good qualities when their entire marriage was based on a masquerade?

Maybe now she knew the truth Alasdair wouldn’t be so accommodating.

She willed herself to believe it and was disgusted when she couldn’t.

Whatever else he had done, she simply couldn’t accept his willingness to listen to what she said had all been a pretense.

By her side, Clyde grunted, and she caught his eye. It was clear he shared her exasperation with Colban.

They rode into the village and found the tavern, and since there was no help for it, she dismounted before Colban could insist on helping her.

They secured the horses, released Dubh from his basket, and Alasdair’s men remained with the wagon as she, Clyde and Morag made their way to the old stone building with its freshly turfed roof.

She glanced over her shoulder at Colban’s men.

Five of them, now. Was she losing her mind?

Colban disappeared inside and Freyja focused on Dubh as he had a good sniff of the wild grasses and piles of manure that were scattered about, since if she didn’t, she had the feeling Colban’s men would notice her rising vexation.

“Lady Freyja.” Colban emerged from the tavern and gave an imperial wave, beckoning her over. Clyde stiffened with affront by her side, and she swiftly grasped his arm before he said or did something they might all regret.

“’Tis all right,” she said under her breath as she released him and tapped her thigh for Dubh to come to heel.

“’Tis not all right,” Clyde growled as they went over to where Colban waited by the tavern door. “He shows a lack of respect, and I don’t trust him.”

She didn’t have time to respond, as they’d reached Colban, but Clyde’s confession unsettled her. The two men had known each other for years. How long had Clyde distrusted Colban?

“This way,” Colban said, sweeping his arm towards the open tavern door, where a man and woman stood, presumably the tavernkeeper and his wife.

She smiled at them in thanks, since none of her turbulent thoughts were their fault, and followed them to the back of the tavern where the woman showed her into a small room.

“I shall leave ye to rest for a short time, my lady,” Colban announced as though he was doing her a great favor, before he retraced his steps, the tavernkeeper and his wife following in his wake.

Clyde cast a suspicious glance around the room.

Shelves took up most of the space, laden with crockery, and in the middle of the floor were two stools, one of which bore a pitcher of ale and a tankard.

It was clear the tavernkeeper kept no private rooms for passing patrons and had hastily made accommodations for her.

“I’ll be right outside.” Clyde left the room and shut the door behind him and Freyja rubbed her aching forehead.

It wouldn’t take a moment to find a soothing remedy in her satchel, but she had the irrational conviction that if she did, Colban would return, see what she was doing, and conclude he’d been right to force her to rest.

With that absurdness faced, what on earth was she meant to do until Colban deigned to return? She was starting to wish she’d declined his offer to accompany him to Eigg on his ship and instead had stuck to her original plan of sailing that afternoon.

She went to the window, but it was small and cracked and she couldn’t see much besides the stone wall of the neighboring farrier.

“Shall I pour the ale, milady?” Morag gave the pitcher a doubtful glance.

“No thank ye, Morag. I’m tempted to see if there’s another way out of here, so Dubh can enjoy himself before we resume our journey.”

It was likely unfair to bring Dubh into her argument for leaving the room Colban had assigned her, when the real reason was she was simply irked at being unnecessarily confined when she didn’t know how desperate Amma’s condition was.

If Colban and his men wanted to stop for an ale, why hadn’t he just said so, instead of pretending she needed to rest because she was a woman?

“There may be another way outside through the pantries.” Morag glanced at a door in the far wall. “Should I look, milady?”

“We’ll look together.” Freyja opened the door, and sure enough, it led into a pantry filled with cooling pies and tarts. With a stern word to Dubh to behave himself, she and Morag crossed the rammed earth floor, and she opened another door that led outside.

It was only a small yard, but the important thing was it wasn’t a room where she’d been consigned like a piece of baggage. Alasdair would never have treated her so.

For the love of God, she had to stop comparing everything unfavorably with how Alasdair would handle it. At least she could be sure Colban wasn’t trying to trick her into marriage by underhanded means.

The notion didn’t lift her mood, and she stifled a sigh as she kept an eye on Dubh.

There was a narrow alleyway between the tavern and the farrier that led to the road where they’d left the horses and wagon.

She strolled to the corner of the building where the alleyway was, and stopped dead, heart pounding.

Colban and one of his men stood not a mare’s length from her.