Page 8 of Deceived by the Highlander (Daughters of the Isle #2)

She shook her head, but it was impossible to remain irked with Roisin, so she hooked her arm through her sister’s as they continued on their way.

Besides, she had the unaccountable urge to tell her about Alasdair, even though she knew Roisin would immediately weave fae tales about how he was her soulmate, or something equally outlandish.

“Very well. Afi had a visitor, Alasdair Campbell, sent to Rum by the Earl of Argyll. His half-brother, would ye believe. A charmer such as ye would never imagine.”

“Ye’re not impressed by charmers.”

“Who said I was impressed?” And who was she trying to fool? “Aye, all right then. His charm was most delightful, and I enjoyed his company. Satisfied?”

Roisin looked enthralled. “Will he visit ye here before he returns to the mainland?”

“I invited him to do so,” she said with as much dignity as she could, considering she was battling the urge to smile at the memory of Alasdair standing in the cove as she returned to Eigg.

They had reached Amma’s chamber, but instead of knocking on the door, Roisin halted before it. “But why did the earl send him to visit Afi? It’s a bit odd, isn’t it?”

It was, but she’d been so enchanted by Alasdair that she hadn’t considered it too deeply. But it wasn’t hard to see the truth. Even if she’d rather not.

“I expect the earl heard of Afi’s fall and wanted confirmation on how his health was. Ye know how the Campbells covet MacDonald land. Maybe he thought to gather information on how well Kilvenie is defended.”

“Ye mean the earl might try and take Kilvenie by force?” Roisin sounded distraught. “But the stronghold will be yers when Afi passes. Surely the earl won’t want to cause bad blood between the clans by usurping yer claim?”

It seemed unlikely. Regardless of how her grandfather intended to grant her the stronghold, Clan MacDonald would not take kindly if the Earl of Argyll waged a battle for the prestigious land. It would undo all the goodwill between the two clans, and why would he want that?

*

The following morning, Freyja was working in the castle’s medicinal gardens with Laoise, as they tended to the precious stock of poppies Freyja had grown from seeds.

Although the plants weren’t best suited to the isle’s weather, their remedial benefits far outweighed the extra care it took to cultivate them.

Dubh sat beyond the vast wall that surrounded the potentially deadly plants, and although she trusted him not to eat anything he shouldn’t, he did love to investigate interesting smells and vermin.

She couldn’t risk him accidentally poisoning himself, but he always gave her a doleful look whenever she shut the gate on him.

“We’ll take these back to the apothecary,” she said, pointing at the pods in a basket at their feet. “And ye shall prepare the tincture.”

“By myself, milady?” Laoise sounded startled.

“Aye. ’Tis time. Ye have the skill to tend patients on yer own, so ’tis only right ye start to prepare the remedies too. And of course, it’ll mean ye get an increase in wages.”

Laoise looked thrilled. “Thank ye, milady.”

Freyja smiled at her. It was the right decision to make. Apart from all the practical concerns, it meant she could visit Afi again in a few days, for longer this time, without worrying that she was abandoning those who relied on her.

It certainly had nothing to do with the possibility of seeing Alasdair again. That was simply a side benefit.

She was still smiling at how she kept trying to justify her thoughts when it came to Alasdair when Roisin entered the gardens.

“Colban MacDonald has arrived,” her sister announced.

Freyja glanced up from her work. She couldn’t see why Roisin thought Colban’s visit warranted such a dramatic declaration. It was scarcely noteworthy, since he often stopped off at Eigg on his way from Islay to Skye. “Aye?”

Roisin gave a loud sigh. “He’s asked where ye are three times already, so I thought it best to come and get ye myself before he took it into his head to look for ye.”

Irritation flickered through her. She’d known Colban of Tarnford Castle on Islay, who was a couple of years older than her, for most of her life, and truth be told, hadn’t taken much notice of him or his frequent visits to the Isle.

But last winter, while Isolde was busy falling for William, both of her sisters had commented on Colban’s attention to her.

And not in a good way. Even Roisin, who saw romance wherever she looked, had said he was merely trying to flatter her with insincere compliments instead of simply admiring her healing skills.

When she’d thought about it, she’d reached the same conclusion. It had left her feeling greatly out of sorts with him, and she’d managed to avoid him completely the last two times he’d stopped on the Isle.

It seemed her luck had run out.

She peeled off her gloves with more force than necessary and then caught Laoise’s anxious glance. She took a deep breath and offered her a smile. “I’ll leave this in yer capable hands, Laoise. I won’t be long.”

With that, she joined Roisin, but before they even reached the kitchens, Colban swung open the door. Had he actually followed her sister out here? She returned his smile of greeting with a frosty glare.

Which he appeared not to see.

“Lady Freyja, what a pleasure. It’s been a good while since we last spoke.”

“I hope ye’re keeping well, Colban.” Somehow, she managed to summon up a tight smile. She was, after all, a daughter of Sgur, and her grandmother’s favorite piece of advice was to keep perspective in all matters to be a fair judge of truth. “Are ye on yer way to Skye?”

“No, we’re heading to Oban. I have business with my cousin Peter on the mainland.”

As they entered the kitchens, she shot him a sharp glance. “Why did ye come to Eigg? ’Tis hardly on yer way.” Indeed, it more than doubled the journey.

“True, but I was hoping to see ye.” They left the kitchens, and as they approached the great hall, he lowered his voice, presumably so Roisin, who walked ahead of them, wouldn’t overhear.

“Word reached us that yer grandfather is ailing. I hope that’s not the truth of the matter. Ranulph is a fine man.”

The tense muscles in her shoulders eased and she offered him a genuine smile.

She’d allowed her sisters’ suspicions to get the better of her these last six months, when she’d been right all along.

Colban and his forefathers were old friends of the Sgur MacDonalds, and that was why he’d added hours to his journey to Oban by detouring to Eigg.

“I’m thankful to report my grandfather is far from ailing.” To be sure, the fall he’d taken the other week had been alarming, but seeing him during the last couple of days had greatly eased her mind.

“That’s good news.” Instead of pausing in the hall, he continued to the doors, as though he wished for them to take a walk in the courtyard.

And while she’d have rather returned to the gardens to continue with her work, she felt bad saying such a thing to him when he was being so solicitous of Afi, and so she swallowed her inclination to excuse herself and accompanied him outside.

“Would ye come with me to Kilvenie, Lady Freyja? I’d like to pay my respects to Ranulph. ”

“My grandfather will be pleased to see ye. But I shan’t accompany ye. I was with him just yesterday.”

“Ah.” Was she imagining it, or did annoyance flash over his face at her response? “Are ye certain I can’t persuade ye, Lady Freyja? ’Tis a glorious day for a short trip to Rum.”

“Aye, it is, but I’m cataloguing stocks.”

“Surely the steward can oversee such a task.”

“I’m sure he could, if I trained him in such matters.

” She didn’t bother to try and hide the irritation in her voice.

Who was Colban to try and tell her what tasks she should or shouldn’t pass onto the castle’s steward?

Especially when part of cataloguing the stocks involved preparing tinctures that could be hazardous in the wrong hands. “But neither of us have time for that.”

“Ye take on too much. I’ve said this to ye before.”

He had, and in the past she’d ignored it as Colban just being Colban. But today his remark, with its hint of disdain, rubbed her the wrong way.

“If I took on too much, the work wouldn’t get done. And it does.”

He eyed her. It was obvious he wasn’t sure if she was being flippant or not. “That’s not what I mean.”

She knew that wasn’t what he’d meant. He had an abiding notion that getting her hands dirty in the gardens was somehow beneath her, and she should delegate such tasks, and spend her time in the solar with her needle.

Not that she had anything against embroidery. When she was in the mood, she found it soothing, but it wasn’t any of Colban’s business where she decided to spend her time.

Alasdair wouldn’t have misunderstood her retort. But then, she couldn’t imagine he’d ever say such a thing to her in the first place.

Since she’d only known him for barely a day, it made no sense for her to think such a thing, but that fact didn’t change her mind.

An illicit thrill sparked through her as she recalled the laughter in his voice and warm gleam in his eyes as they’d walked along the beach, and inevitably, their parting kiss lingered in her mind like an ethereal promise.

It was a wrench to force herself back to the present, where Colban stood beside her with a faintly affronted air. But it wasn’t her fault if he took exception to her words, when he was the one implying she was in the wrong.

“Then ye should say what ye mean, Colban, so there’s no misunderstanding between us.”

“I mean no disrespect, my lady. We’ve been friends a long time and I hope ye always take my words the way they’re meant. Ye mean a great deal to me, and I shouldn’t wish to offend ye.”

Freyja folded her arms and focused on Dubh. Colban had never said anything about how much she meant to him before, and the truth was, his comment made her uncomfortable. As though he wanted more than friendship.

Blessed Eir. She hoped she’d misunderstood. She had no interest in having anything more with him.

“I’m not offended,” she told him, without looking at him. “And we appreciate yer concern.” Inspiration struck on how she could steer this conversation away from awkward territory. “Indeed, if ye’re planning to visit my grandfather, ye’ll likely meet his guest, Alasdair Campbell.”

This time there was no mistaking the annoyance that darkened his brow. “I don’t know of this Alasdair Campbell.”

“He’s half-brother to the Earl of Argyll. And apparently a good friend of William’s.”

Belatedly, she recalled how Colban had taken exception to William’s presence at Sgur in the winter. It had likely been a bad idea to mention his name.

“What the devil is the earl’s half-brother doing at Kilvenie?”

It was a small relief Colban hadn’t decided to make disparaging remarks about William, but the aggression in his voice was plain.

And she understood why. As she’d said to her sister, there was logically only one reason why the earl had sent Alasdair to Rum, and she doubted it was from the kindness of his heart to ensure her grandfather’s wellbeing.

Just because she was charmed by Alasdair didn’t mean she was blind to the politics behind his visit. Yet for some reason she was irked that Colban appeared to have jumped to the very same conclusion.

“The earl is related to my late grandmother,” she reminded him. “There’s a blood connection.”

Not that she’d ever felt the need to highlight that connection before. Maybe, if she’d ever had the chance to know her paternal grandmother, she would have learned of her Campbell relations. But, as things stood, she scarcely even acknowledged the Campbell blood that ran through her veins.

“Aye.” Colban sounded grudging. “There is a blood connection.”

She waited for him to continue, but it seemed that was all he had to say on the matter which, unaccountably, caused a shiver of unease along her spine.

The blood connection, after all, was between herself and her sisters, not Afi, as her comment had implied.

Yet there was a dark trace of veiled calculation in the way Colban eyed her. What wasn’t he sharing with her?

Tension sparked in the air between them, as though a thousand spiders crawled along her arms, and finally she couldn’t stand it any longer.

“Well, ’twas good to see ye, Colban, but I must be getting on.

Ye’ve a long day ahead of yerself too, if ye plan on sailing to Rum before heading back to Oban. ”

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll visit Ranulph another time.”

She didn’t care what he planned on doing so long as this encounter ended. “Give yer cousin Peter my regards.”

Colban inclined his head, took her hand—even though she hadn’t offered it to him—and pressed his lips upon her knuckles.

“I will.” His gaze locked with hers before he turned on his heel. As she watched him march down the hill, Roisin came to her side.

“What did he want with ye that was so urgent?”

She shook her head, even though she had a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach that she did, indeed, suspect what Colban might want with her. “He wanted me to visit Afi with him.”

Roisin was silent for a moment, before she linked her arm through hers.

“I fear he may be courting ye in earnest, Frey.” There was an anxious note in her sister’s voice, that did nothing to ease the disquiet in her own breast. “Ye need to tell him straight, before he thinks he has a hope of winning yer hand.”

She knew Roisin was right. But what if they’d misjudged him, and he had no thoughts of courting her? It would be highly embarrassing to confront him, only to have him laugh incredulously at her presumption.

Yet even that excruciating encounter would be preferable to having Colban ask for her hand.