Page 6 of Deceived by the Highlander (Daughters of the Isle #2)

T he following morning, Freyja examined each puppy as Afi fussed over his beloved Ban. Who, thank the blessed Eir, was doing very well. Her grandfather had caught her before breakfast and had insisted on seeing his dog before doing anything else, so here they were.

Not that she minded. She’d intended to visit her charges in any case before she left the Isle for Eigg.

Although, if she was truthful, she’d been hoping Alasdair might’ve accompanied her.

But she hadn’t seen him since last night, and they’d had no opportunity to talk without others surrounding them from the moment they’d entered the hall yesterday afternoon.

She shook her head, exasperated by how she couldn’t seem to get the charming Campbell from her mind. Curse the man, he’d even invaded her dreams.

And what breath-stealing dreams they’d been.

Heat flooded through her, burning her cheeks, and she crouched lower over the puppies so neither her grandfather nor Miles would notice. But she couldn’t stop her besotted smile at the memory of Alasdair’s dream kisses.

God help her. She was going soft in the head.

“Why did ye whelp in here, lass?” Afi, sitting on a low stool Miles had brought with them, gave a heavy sigh as he scratched Ban’s throat.

“We had a grand corner set up in my chamber for her,” he added to Freyja, who dragged her wayward thoughts together and nodded in sympathy before handing him a puppy.

“We can’t move her yet,” she reminded him. “But the stable lad is under strict instructions to keep a close eye on her and ensure they’re all kept warm, and ye know Miles won’t let anything happen to her or the pups.”

“They’ll all be fine,” Miles said as he kept a watchful eye on her grandfather as he inspected each puppy in turn. “There’s no need to stay,” he added to her, nodding his head at Dubh. “Go take the lad for his run on the beach. We’ll see ye back at the stronghold before ye leave.”

She shot him a grateful smile, kissed Afi on the cheek, and left the stables.

It was another fine day, and as she made her way down the rocky path that led to the beach, with Dubh enthusiastically chasing elusive rodents, she breathed in deep.

The scent of sand and salt drifted in the fresh breeze, and she was glad of the extra shawl she’d borrowed from her late grandmother’s possessions that Afi had refused to dispose of.

The beach was deserted, and only a few red deer grazed at the fringe of the woodlands. After a quick glance over her shoulder to ensure she truly was alone, she picked up her skirts and raced along the shoreline, Dubh barking ecstatically at her heels.

Laughing, she came to a halt and scooped him into her arms for a quick hug. He licked her nose, and she shook her head. “Aye, I love ye too, ye little rascal.”

She put him back on the beach, but instead of chasing gulls, he faced the way they’d come and barked in greeting.

Heat flashed through her. Who had witnessed her undignified dash along the sand?

To be sure, ’twas nothing to be ashamed about, but she did have a reputation to uphold.

And not just because she was a MacDonald of Sgur Castle.

Her healing skills were everything to her, and she was well aware there were some among the Western Isles who’d take great delight in disparaging her for such a seeming lack of decorum.

Not here on Rum, though.

I hope.

Since it was a fool’s wish to hope whoever else was now on the beach hadn’t noticed her unseemly behavior, she straightened her shoulders and swung about.

And not two horses’ length from her stood Alasdair.

“Where the devil did ye appear from?” She hadn’t meant to sound quite so accusatory, but good Lord, it was as though he’d materialized from the sand itself.

He glanced to the edge of the beach, where the sand merged with grassland, strewn with massive, irregular boulders, that in the distance converged into woodland, before he offered her the same smile that had haunted her dreams overnight. “I didn’t mean to startle ye.”

“I’m not startled,” she corrected him, which wasn’t quite the truth but better than admitting every time she saw him it seemed her heart was determined to hammer in her chest like a creature possessed. “But ye could’ve said something, instead of skulking behind me like that.”

“To be fair, I wasn’t skulking.” He appeared to find her charge against him entertaining. Why didn’t that irk her? Instead, she found herself returning his smile. “I’d just come from the woodlands and thought for sure ye’d seen me. I was about to hail ye when yer wee dog greeted me.”

“Dubh is a grand guard dog, and that’s a fact.”

A frown flashed across his brow. It was disconcerting how fascinating she found it. “He’s a good dog for warning ye of a stranger’s approach, but he’s no guard dog, Lady Freyja. ’Tis none of my business, I’m aware, but do ye sail between the isles alone?”

He was right. It wasn’t any of his business, and yet she didn’t mind his question.

It wasn’t as though it was a secret, after all.

“I do not. My grandmother would never allow such a thing, even though I’m perfectly able to navigate the waters between the Small Isles.

One of our most trusted warriors, Clyde, accompanies me. ”

“Yet ye walk the beaches alone.”

This time his remark did take her aback. “Of course. Why shouldn’t I? The beaches of Rum are as familiar to me as those on Eigg. And I’m as safe here as I am there.”

He sighed. “Ye’re likely right. I grew up in Oban, and no lady would walk alone with only her dog for company. I’ve been to Skye before, but this is the first time I’ve visited one of the Small Isles.”

“Aye, well ye can’t compare the Isles with Oban, or any of yer towns on the mainland. I’m thankful I don’t need to heed the restrictions imposed beyond our Isles. Eigg is where my heart lies, and Rum is very dear to me, too.”

And it was just as well, since she was bound to Eigg by the sacred Deep Knowing that had been handed down for countless generations of her foremothers.

The bloodline of the Isle must prevail beyond quietus.

The meaning was as clear as the sun in the sky. If the daughters of Sgur abandoned the Isle, their bloodline would die.

But what of Isolde? She had left Eigg against the edict of their Pict queen ancestor and was blissfully happy with her decision. It was a puzzle, and one Freyja had not yet managed to solve.

“What if ye wed a man not of the Isles? Ye might find life in the Highlands to yer liking after all.”

“I don’t think so.” She cast him an amused sideways glance as they continued to stroll along the beach.

In the sunlight, his blond hair glinted with elusive shimmers of auburn, and it was an effort to drag her mesmerized gaze from him before he noticed and questioned her on it.

She drew in a deep breath of salt-laden air, but the mad urge to reach up and run her fingers through his windswept hair lodged in her mind.

It was most distracting.

“Ye don’t think what? That ye’ll wed a man not of the Isles, or ye won’t enjoy living in the Highlands?”

There was a teasing note in his voice that was frankly irresistible. Which was intriguing since usually she wasn’t thrilled when a man insisted on questioning her views. But Alasdair wasn’t arrogantly overriding her with his own opinions. Despite his smile, he sounded genuinely curious.

“Both. Whoever I wed will make his home with me at Sgur.”

“Is that so?”

She laughed. “Aye, it is so. Why do ye sound so skeptical? ’Tis the way it’s been for the last nine hundred years.”

“Nine hundred years? Isn’t it time for a change, then?”

“Why change something for no reason? That’s simply foolish.”

“Wait. Are ye telling me that no MacDonald woman has left Sgur in almost a thousand years?”

“’Tis the legacy we inherited from our foremothers. We travel, of course.” She waved her hand to encompass the sea and the beach. “But our hearts are forever entwined with our beloved Eigg.”

“Huh.”

She couldn’t quite fathom what he meant to convey with his huh , but she could take a guess, since it was something that was often on her own mind of late.

“Ye may be aware that my sister, Isolde, recently wed William Campbell of Creagdoun. And before ye say anything, I’ll tell ye straight: I’m still flummoxed by it.

I can only suppose it’s because just one daughter of Sgur is needed to continue our legacy, and that’s why Isolde is happy in her new life. ”

He gazed at her as though he had no idea what she was talking about.

She couldn’t really blame him. There was no reason why he’d know of the legacy of Sgur that had been passed down from mother to daughter since their infamous Pict queen ancestor.

And no one outside the female line of her family knew of the Deep Knowing.

She hoped he didn’t ask what she meant. She really should have kept her mouth shut, but he was so cursed easy to talk to.

“I’ve known William since I was a wee lad,” he said, unexpectedly, and she blinked at him as relief swept through her that she didn’t need to deflect any awkward questions about her matrilineal heritage. “And I’ve met yer sister, Lady Isolde, several times.”

“Oh.” She came to a halt and stared at him, unsure why his remark so surprised her.

Indeed, now she thought about it, it made sense he knew William, who was, himself, related to the Earl of Argyll through his father.

Alasdair may have been born out of wedlock, but noble blood flowed through his veins, and clearly he had been a favored son of the late earl.

It made sense he had grown up with William who was, after all, the son of a baron.

“I don’t know anything of yer legacy,” he said, “but I do know William will do anything to ensure Lady Isolde’s happiness.”

She sighed, and of one accord they resumed their walk along the shore. “I know. He’s a good man, for all he’s a Campbell, and my sister loves him.”

“He’s not the only good Campbell, ye know.”

“I’ll take yer word for it.” She cast him a teasing glance and he lightly bumped her shoulder with his arm. Illicit thrills raced through her at the fleeting touch, and she scarcely had the wit to berate herself for such an absurd reaction.

Without a doubt, it hadn’t been an accidental touch. She wasn’t sure how she should feel about such a liberty. Especially when Alasdair held her gaze for far longer than necessary.

She sucked in a long breath, but it didn’t help ease her racing heart. Anyone would think she’d just climbed to the summit of An Sgurr on Eigg, rather than enjoy a leisurely stroll along the beach. But then, they wouldn’t be taking into account the presence of Alasdair Campbell.

A liberty or not, she couldn’t deny she’d enjoyed the brush of his arm against her.

A revelation burst through her mind. Was this how William had made Isolde feel from the moment she’d met him?

Flustered by where her imagination appeared to be leading her, she fished madly through her mind to change the subject.

“How long are ye intending to remain on Rum?”

“Until yer grandfather is tired of me and sets me on my way.”

She shook her head. “Are ye ever serious? Don’t ye have a grand castle waiting for ye in yer precious Highlands?”

“I have a trusted steward.”

“A trusted steward is invaluable.” Especially one as loyal as Miles. He was the reason why she and her sisters could rest easy that Afi always had the best care when they weren’t on Rum themselves.

And then something occurred to her, and a shiver skated over her arms at how she hadn’t thought of it before. “What of yer lady wife? Won’t she be missing ye?”

“I’m not wed, Lady Freyja.” Was that a hint of laughter in his voice, as though he suspected the possibility he possessed a wife had unsettled her? She hoped he suspected no such thing. How mortifying. “Do ye have an understanding with a man from the Isles?”

“That’s a very personal question, Alasdair Campbell.”

“I shouldn’t wish to intrude if yer interest lies elsewhere.”

“If my interest lay elsewhere, I shouldn’t allow ye to intrude.” Belatedly, she realized her comment might make Alasdair conclude she’d just invited him to continue, rather than letting him know she was more than capable of telling a man to back off if he was annoying her.

But continue what? She wasn’t so starstruck by his charm as to imagine his flirting was anything serious. Even if she wanted it to be.

Which she didn’t. Especially with a Highlander who had made no secret that he found the tradition of Sgur women remaining on Eigg after marriage to be somewhat odd.

They had reached the end of the beach, where a rocky peak towered over the bay and spilled into the sea. She’d often scrambled over the rugged coastline with Dubh, but she didn’t have time today. She needed to get back home and see to her patients.

They came to a halt, and Alasdair turned to face her. “Since I’m not intruding, might I escort ye back to Kilvenie Tower?” He held out his arm and she eyed it with some suspicion. “Unless ye wish for a stroll through the woodlands?”

She laughed at that. “I’ve no intention of walking through the woodlands with ye. But I’ll accept yer offer to accompany me back to the stronghold.”

With that, she hooked her arm through his, and the tips of her fingers brushed against his wrist. His skin was warm, and she had to forcibly curb the urge to stroke the fine hair on his forearm. What on earth did this Highlander possess that made everything about him so fascinating?

She knew plenty of men from the Isles. She’d treated a fair number of men, too, and not one of them had ever come close to making her catch her breath. Never mind all but forgetting how to breathe in the first place.

It was as though he’d cast a spell upon her. Except she didn’t believe in such fanciful fae tales, and she couldn’t believe she’d even thought such a preposterous thing in the first place.

What the devil was Alasdair Campbell doing to her?