Page 30 of Beguiled By the Highlander
God help them, that must be why her grandmother was so determined for this match to go ahead. Njord had been right. Why hadn’t she realized it before?
Amma closed her eyes and drew in a long breath and Isolde gripped her fingers together in dread. Then her grandmother looked at her.
“Clan Campbell holds no such threat over my head, Isolde. It was I who approached Bruce Campbell with this proposition.”
Her anger against the Campbells seeped from her as anguish squeezed her heart. “But why?” she whispered. “Why would ye turn from the Deep Knowing?”
Why would ye turn yer back on me?
Her grandmother pressed her lips together. She wasn’t going to say anything more. Yet somehow, it no longer mattered. There was no great conspiracy among Clan Campbell to claim the MacDonalds of Sgur’s lands.
Her own Amma had offered her to them on a gilded platter.
“I didn’t turn my back on the Deep Knowing.” Her voice was scarcely above a whisper. “This is the will of the Deep Knowing, Isolde. The dreams that plagued me from the night of yer birth ended only after I pledged ye to William Campbell. I cannot tell ye why. I can only tell ye that, for a reason I don’t understand, yer bloodline must prevail away from Eigg.”
*
Isolde could notsleep, and neither could she toss or turn, since that would awaken her sisters. Instead, she lay rigid on her back, glaring into the darkness, as her grandmother’s enigmatic confession thundered around her head.
She had never mentioned dreams before. What did she mean, anyway? No one made life-altering decisions simply based on adream.
Especially when that decision concerned someone else.
For ten years she’d assumed Bruce Campbell had somehow persuaded Lady Helga, and most likely by foul means, to agree to a match between his son and her eldest granddaughter. Which was bad enough.
But the truth was far worse.
She wouldn’t wed the Campbell to satisfy her grandmother’s incomprehensible conviction that doing so was somehow the answer to vanquish Amma’s bad dreams. She’d never heard such nonsense in herlife.
The injustice and, she couldn’t deny it, the sense of betrayal burned through her, twisting her stomach into knots. She hadn’t even had the chance to speak with Njord last night, as when she’d finally escaped her grandmother’s clutches, he had disappeared. And although she could have confided in her sisters, for the first time in her life she hadn’t, and she still couldn’t quite understand why.
Roisin would be completely sympathetic, and Freyja would, no doubt, dismiss the whole dream thing as a strange aberrance on their grandmother’s part.
But she hadn’t been able to find the words.
No, that wasn’t true. At least, it wasn’t the whole truth. Because it wasn’t her sisters she wanted with her when she spilled out her hurt. It was Njord.
Ah, this was unendurable. Stealthily, she eased out of the bed, picked up her shawl, and wrapped it tightly about herself. The fire had burned low, which meant it was the early hours of the morn. Too early for any of the servants to be about to witness her nocturnal visit.
It was scandalous to even contemplate going to see Njord now, but she was too wound up to sleep, and if she didn’t speak to him soon she’d go mad.
In the antechamber, she lit an oil lamp, and bade Sjor to stay, before she cautiously made her way down the stairs and to the solar. At the door she hesitated and glanced over her shoulder. Although she was often up in the early hours, the castle was never this still, and it felt strange not to encounter even a single servant.
But then, that was just as well, considering what she was doing.
Gently, she tapped on the door, but he didn’t bid her to enter. She bit her lip and pressed her ear against the wood. Was heasleep? It was most likely. Why wouldn’t he? Most sane people would be.
Curses. Now what? Should she knock again, or creep back to her own chamber and pretend this madness had never assailed her?
Since she was wider awake than ever, and still as churned up over her grandmother’s revelations, she took a deep breath and raised her fist to knock on the door once again.
She never got the chance. The door swung open, and Njord stood there, holding a candle, and wearing an expression of supreme astonishment.
“Isolde?” His hushed voice sent shivers along her arms. Although perhaps the fact he wore only his shirt, with his hair deliciously disheveled, had something to do with it too. “What in the name of God are ye doing here?” He sent a swift glance over her shoulder, before returning his gaze to her. “Is anything amiss?”
“No,” she whispered. Good Lord, wasn’t he going to invite her inside? “May I come in?”
For a moment he stared at her as if he had no idea what she was talking about. Then he stood back, before shutting the door behind her. Shadows wreathed the chamber, and it was very different, being here alone with him in the solar at night, than it was during the day.
