Page 7 of Deceived by the Highlander (Daughters of the Isle #2)

A lasdair glanced at Freyja as she walked by his side, her arm linking his as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

In truth, he’d doubted she’d accept his offer, but if there was one thing he’d learned about her in the short time since they’d met, it was that she never did what he expected.

Her hair was pulled back into a loose plait, tied with a blue ribbon that matched her eyes, but several long curls had escaped and danced around her face in the sea breeze.

His gaze roved over her profile, snagging on the enchanting blush that highlighted her aristocratic cheekbones, and satisfaction streaked through him.

There was no denying the sparks between them.

All he needed was a few more days, and he was certain Freyja would look favorably on an alliance between them.

And once she accepted his proposal, Ranulph wouldn’t raise any obstacle.

All he wanted was his granddaughter’s happiness, and if Alasdair made Freyja happy, his mission for the earl was accomplished.

“What plans do ye have for the rest of the day?’ He was already envisioning a leisurely stroll to the local village, and he’d discovered a secluded cove the other day that would be perfect for an afternoon picnic.

Not that he’d ever done such a thing before, but he’d heard it was a good strategy for romancing a lady.

“I’m leaving for Eigg shortly. This was only a quick visit on my way home from Canna.”

His visions of spending the day with Freyja shattered around him. How was he meant to gain her favor if she left the Isle? But it was more than that. He’d been looking forward to her company.

“Yer grandfather will miss ye.” And he wouldn’t be the only one.

“I’ll miss him too. But he’s so much better than he was a few weeks ago. Ye wouldn’t believe how hard we tried to get him to come and live with us at Sgur.”

“Kilvenie must be in his blood.” Growing up in his stepfather’s manor, he’d never had a great attachment to the place, but he knew others had a fierce bond with the land of their forefathers.

Hell, look at Freyja. She’d told him plainly she had no intention of leaving Sgur Castle. What plans had she made for Kilvenie Tower, when Ranulph granted her the stronghold?

When William had introduced his wife to him, he’d had no idea Lady Isolde was the first woman of her lineage who’d left the Isle of Eigg in almost a thousand years. But she’d left Sgur for love.

He could only hope Freyja would, too. But that would never happen if she returned to Eigg before he had the chance to capture her heart.

“To be sure,” she said, and it took him a heartbeat to understand what she meant. “Afi’s forefathers have been custodians of the stronghold for more than three hundred years. I know he’s grieved he has no grandson to continue his heritage, but it cannot be helped.”

He wasn’t sure how common the knowledge was that Ranulph intended to leave the stronghold to Freyja. It was likely best if he kept the fact that he knew to himself. “I’m certain he’ll make the right choice when the time comes.”

“Hmm.” She cast him a sideways glance, and for a moment he thought she was about to say more.

Confide in him, maybe. But instead she sighed and leaned closer to him as they continued along the beach.

It was a torture he’d never imagined could exist and there was nothing he could do about it.

Not when he needed to win her trust. “I hope it’s many years before we need to face that choice. ”

He inclined his head in agreement, but all his wretched mind could think about was stealing a kiss. Would she slap his face or sink into his arms? The very fact he didn’t have a clue how she’d react only made the prospect more enticing than ever.

“I’m sure ye’re right.” But even as he spoke, disquiet edged through him. The only reason the earl had sent him to Rum was because Ranulph was thought to be on his deathbed. While the older man was certainly frail, Alasdair hadn’t seen any sign he was on the point of dying.

The truth was, the longer he stayed at Kilvenie, the less he wished for that outcome. And yet his future hinged on it.

But how long did the earl expect him to stay here? And more to the point, how long would Ranulph allow him to?

*

Alasdair waited in the courtyard while Freyja said her farewells to her grandfather.

Clyde, the warrior she’d spoken of earlier, eyed him from the door to the stronghold, his face an impassive mask.

He was a great hulk of a man, and it was clear no one would attack Freyja with such an intimidating guard.

It was a relief, although he wasn’t sure why.

She had said herself, she was safe on the Isles, but that had more to do with her status as a MacDonald of Sgur rather than the inhabitants being more law-abiding than those from the mainland.

Still, at least she had a man to navigate the boat between the Isles, and that was something.

Finally, she emerged with her dog, as always, at her heels, and he strode over to her. “I’ll accompany ye to the boat.”

She fell into step beside him, and after shooting him a dark glare, Clyde marched ahead of them.

“When ye leave Rum, do feel free to visit us on yer way back to the mainland.” She smiled at him, and he once again had the overwhelming need to kiss those irresistible lips.

Except this time, unlike when they’d been on the beach, they weren’t alone, and he was certain Clyde would relish breaking his nose for taking such a liberty.

To hell with it. He threaded his fingers through hers, and she gave a soft gasp but didn’t pull away. Who knew the gentle caress of a palm against his could be so arousing?

But then, this was Freyja, and it seemed anything she did had the power to fire his blood.

“I’ll be sure to take ye up on yer kind offer,” he promised.

One way or another, he was determined to make her his bride, whatever happened here on Rum with Ranulph.

Because if he was sure of one thing, it was that the earl would claim Kilvenie by whatever means he could.

And Alasdair intended to support him, even if it entailed wedding Freyja while Ranulph was still alive.

They reached the sheltered cove, where her boat had been pulled up onto the sand beside a rocky outcrop. The sea was calm and Eigg, with its dramatic ridge that towered over the Isle, looked deceptively close.

As Clyde dragged the boat to the water, as though it weighed no more than a satchel of feathers, Alasdair grasped Freyja’s free hand and swung her around to face him.

“I mean it,” he said. “Watch out for me, Lady Freyja.”

She gave a silent laugh, but her fingers tightened around his. “I shan’t be standing on the beach waiting for ye, Alasdair, if that’s what ye’re meaning. But make yer way to Sgur Castle, and I’ll see ye soon enough.”

“Ye may count on it.” Before he could think better of it, he brushed her lips in a fleeting kiss, and her elusive scent of roses and rain tormented him.

Lust roared through him, and it was hell to pull back, but somehow he managed it.

For an eternal moment her blue gaze ensnared him, as the erratic thud of his heart blotted out the sound of the gulls’ crying overhead.

He dragged in a harsh breath, forcing himself back to reality while he still could.

“And now the promise is sealed with a kiss.”

*

Freyja could still feel Alasdair’s lips on hers as she made her way across the bracken moorlands to where Sgur Castle, in all its majestic splendor, rose on its mighty hill in the shadow of An Sgurr.

Exasperated, she shook her head but couldn’t dislodge the smile that had affixed itself to her face ever since his unexpected kiss.

The very nerve of the man to do such a thing. She really should be most irked with him, but instead she was having a hard time not wishing for a repeat performance as soon as possible.

He’d remained on the beach watching her departure while Clyde had rowed to Eigg, and although it had been completely unnecessary on his part, she’d found it utterly charming. Especially when he’d raised his hand in a final farewell, before he’d vanished beyond the sea mist.

As she entered the castle, Roisin came across the hall to greet her. “How is Afi?”

“He’s looking well, but he still tires so easily.”

Roisin crouched to give Dubh a hug. “’Tis good news, then. I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to him.”

“Oh, and Ban had her pups. Six of them. So Afi is well pleased.”

Roisin straightened and gave her a curious glance. “Did something happen while ye were away, Frey?”

Sometimes, Roisin could be annoyingly perceptive. “I was kept busy.”

But all she could think about was Alasdair. And that kiss.

“Aye, of course.” Roisin gave her another probing glance as they made their way to their grandmother’s chamber where she dealt with matters of the estate. “But there’s a glow about ye I’ve never seen before.”

“A glow?” Freyja scoffed, but only just stopped herself from pressing her hand against her cheek, to check if her skin was burning or not.

Except she knew Roisin was referring to something completely different than whether the walk up to the castle had turned her face red.

“I’m not one of yer fae folk. I don’t glow. ”

“I’m reminded of how Isolde looked, when she met William.”

Freyja came to a halt and planted her hands on her hips as she faced her sister.

To be sure, Isolde had most certainly favored William from the moment she’d met him, but the truth was, Roisin had seen from the start how utterly their sister had fallen for the stranger from the sea, and she hadn’t seen anything of the kind.

Feeling a little aggrieved, she said, “I never saw such a thing.”

“I know. But I also know ye’re avoiding my question.”