Page 41 of Beguiled By the Highlander
If only she could sink through the door behind her and disappear, but since there was no option but to face them all, she straightened her spine and tugged her shawl more securely about herself.
“Lady Helga.” William bowed, and she was disgusted that she noticed how elegant it was. “My deepest apologies for my hasty departure. I had to speak with Lady Isolde.”
“Indeed.” There was a touch of frost in Amma’s voice which Isolde hadn’t expected. Wasn’t she happy that Njord had turned out to be the very man she had underhandedly pledged Isolde to? “There is much to speak of. We shall return to the castle and proceed forthwith.”
With that, Lady Helga beckoned for Isolde to join her, and after glancing at William’s implacable face, she obeyed her grandmother.
Her sisters immediately came to her side, linking their arms through hers as though they feared she might stumble if they released her.
“Is this not the most romantic thing?” Roisin whispered, so only she and Freyja could hear. “To think, the man ye care for is none other than the man ye’re destined to wed.”
Isolde bit her tongue before she said something to upset her sister, but Frey was not so concerned with such niceties. “Romantic?” she whispered back. “That’s not the word I would call this, and that’s for sure.”
“What do ye mean?” Anxiety threaded through Roisin’s voice. “Njord cares for Izzie, I know it.”
“He’s not Njord.” Her hiss sounded harsh, but she couldn’t help it and didn’t regret it, even when Roisin flinched at her tone. “His name is William Campbell.”
“I’m vexed I didn’t press him further when he first awoke.” Frey exhaled a frustrated sigh. “I should have, but I believed his tale. It seems the only one not taken in was Colban.”
But it wasn’t just Colban MacDonald who had seen through the subterfuge.
Even her grandmother had been skeptical of how he’d washed up on the beach. The irony of how Amma had tried tokeep her away from Njord—William, damn it—wasn’t lost on her.
“Well, I think ye are both wrong.”
Sometimes Roisin could be so stubborn. Although how Isolde wished that this time her youngest sister was right.
Chapter Thirteen
At Lady Helga’scommand, William and Hugh followed her to a chamber which, had it belonged to a man, would bear all the hallmarks of a war chamber. She sat behind a great desk, with Isolde and her sisters flanking her, and Patric and another three warriors positioned themselves at strategic points.
It appeared Isolde wasn’t the only one who doubted him, and he drew in a deep breath. Of all the ways he’d imagined regaining his memories, and the subsequent reaction, it had never occurred to him Isolde would reject him so utterly simply because of his name.
He needed more time to speak with her alone, to win her around. Unfortunately, his attempt to ease her concerns earlier, outside the armory, had been little short of disastrous. For all his noble thoughts of showing her patience, her vehement rejection of their alliance had prickled his pride.
His pride. Aye, to be sure that’s all it was. Except he had the feeling it was more than his damn pride she’d wounded by her harsh words.
“So ye are the Baron of Dunstrunage’s son.” Lady Helga’s face was impassive as she held his gaze. “Tell me plainly, William Campbell. Did ye set out to deceive us this last week?”
“No, my lady. I swear on the honor of my forefathers I told only the truth as I knew it.”
Lady Helga glanced at Isolde, who didn’t look in the least impressed by his pledge, before returning her attention to him.“’Tis a strange coincidence. But I have learned the Isles conceal more wisdom than they ever reveal to us.”
He had no idea what she was talking about, but since she appeared to believe him, he was willing to agree with whatever she said if it meant his betrothal with Isolde remained unbroken.
“I’ve only been here a week, but even I can see their beauty.”
“’Tis more than skin deep, William Campbell,” Lady Helga said, “but I understand yer sentiments. It is hard indeed for any daughter of Sgur to make her life elsewhere.”
Warning spiked through his blood. Was she going to break the betrothal she had gone to such lengths to procure ten years ago?
Before leaving Skye, he’d have welcomed it. Celebrated his freedom. But now he’d met his future bride, and no one—not even Isolde’s revered grandmother—would take her from him.
“Aye, my lady. But I shall do all within my power to make Lady Isolde happy in her new home.”
Isolde, standing beside her grandmother’s chair, shot him a glare, and he admired her restraint. Considering how she’d reacted on discovering who he was, had he said such a thing to her when they were alone, he could well imagine her tart response.
But once they were wed, once he had made her truly his, she’d come around. How could she not?
