Page 24 of Beguiled By the Highlander
Freyja shrugged. “That’s just his way. I cannot see that would stop Njord from requesting passage, if it means he might discover his missing memories.”
“Well, I can’t speak for him and his plans.” Isolde flashed her sister a bright smile to hide her uneasy thoughts. Because although it was clear Njord found Colban disagreeable, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t ask for passage.
She’d simply assumed he wouldn’t.
*
On account ofColban and his men’s arrival, dinner was a more lavish affair than usual, with three courses instead of the customary two. An extra table had been added to their high table in the great hall to accommodate the additional guests, and in the presence of their grandmother, Colban was on his best behavior.
Njord who, as usual, she had managed to seat beside her, raised his tankard, but instead of taking a swig of ale, he said under his breath, “Does Colban think to win Lady Freyja’s hand by sweet talking Lady Helga?”
“He can try. But unless Frey changes her mind about seeing him as nothing more than a neighbor, he’s wasting his time.”
“Lady Helga wouldn’t insist on a match between them? I’ve heard he’s well respected in Islay.”
Maybe Patric had mentioned it to Njord while she and her sisters were in the village earlier. And considering Patric’s view of Colban wasn’t far from her own, she could imagine how that conversation had gone.
“He is. But I’m certain Amma wouldn’t force the match if Frey is unwilling.”
“Yet Lady Helga is determined for ye to wed against yer wishes.”
Her mood deflated at the reminder. “I cannot understand her insistence.”
Beneath the table, out of sight of everyone, he threaded his fingers through hers, and lightning streaked through her. Hastily, she grabbed her goblet to occupy her free hand so no one might wonder why she’d stopped eating.
“Is it possible,” he began, his voice dropping even lower, and she stealthily leaned closer so she might not miss a word. What a hardship. His scent of soap and fresh woodland filled her head, and it was hard to concentrate, especially when his thumb stroked a mesmeric circle over her hand. “That the Campbell from Argyll is forcing Lady Helga’s acceptance by outside means?”
She risked looking at him. And could not tear her gaze away. Concern filled his stormy blue-gray eyes, and with his black hair tamed by a length of velvet, he was breathtakingly dashing.
Somehow, she forced herself to answer. “The women of Sgur Castle are not easily pressured by outside forces. I cannot imagine the Campbell is forcing this match.” And then, as Njord’s frown deepened, the ugly possibility that he might beright snaked through her mind. “What could he threaten that is so bad she would agree to this match?”
Before he could respond, her grandmother spoke. “Ye must be greatly relieved, Njord, that the weather has turned. We have a ship leaving for Oban—on the mainland—at the end of the week. God willing, someone there will know of ye.”
Greatly irked, Isolde could not hold her tongue. “Ye cannot expect Njord to travel to Oban when there’s no guarantee he’ll discover his origins there. What will he do if his kin don’t just happen to be at the docks waiting for news of him?”
“I’m not suggesting he should be on the ship, Isolde. Unless he wishes to be.”
Curses. She took a sip of her ale, but thankfully it seemed the entire table had not taken note of the exchange between her grandmother and herself. Carefully, she replaced the goblet on the table and tried not to react when Njord gave her fingers a comforting squeeze.
“Thank ye, my lady,” he said to her grandmother. “I should be greatly obliged if I might remain in Eigg for a little longer, until my memories return. I’m willing to move from the castle and find lodging elsewhere.”
Isolde let out a frustrated huff, but her grandmother merely smiled.
“There’s no need for that,” she said. “My granddaughter saved yer life, and for that we are obliged to do all we can to return ye to full health. Ye may stay in the castle until we’ve exhausted all possible means of discovering who ye might be. After that, we will consider further.”
*
Later that afternoon,as twilight settled across the horizon, hestood on the beach where Isolde had told him she’d found him, and breathed in deep as he gazed at the waves that broke on the shore.
Disquiet gnawed his gut, a relentless reminder that, despite being on solid land, in truth, he remained lost at sea, tossed by the uncaring winds of fate.
His senses prickled, a familiar sensation, although he couldn’t recall ever feeling it before. But danger spiced the air, and instinctively he swung about.
Colban MacDonald was striding across the sand towards him.
The man stopped short a sword’s length from him and regarded him with hostile eyes. “Who are ye?”
Irritation clawed through his chest at what Colban implied. “If I knew the answer to that, so would ye.”
