Page 52 of Beguiled By the Highlander
“Aye,” he agreed, even though the word burned his throat. “Her men are loyal.”
“I’ll speak to the earl. He might know something.”
It was possible. The earl’s influence was like a spider’s web across Argyll and beyond.
Then his father clasped his arm and gave a satisfied grin. “So ye are now wed. Well done, lad. She’s a bonny lass, as I always knew she would be. When we’ve flushed out the traitor, we’ll have a Campbell wedding in the chapel here, so there’ll be no doubt about it.”
“There’s no doubt,” he said. “Most of Eigg witnessed our marriage.”
“Good. ’Tis the right thing to unite Campbell and MacDonald.”
And that reminded him. “It was always the intention for Lady Isolde to wear my lady mother’s ring. I should like to give that to her, with yer permission.”
“From the day ye were born, it was yer mother’s greatest wish that her ring should, in time, go to yer wife.” His father gave a ragged sigh. “I’ll find it for ye. And my wedding gift to ye both is the Brussels tapestry in the great hall.”
Taken aback, he stared at his father. The tapestry was only a few years old and had cost a small fortune to commission from the artisans in Brussels. “That’s very generous.”
“Creagdoun is sound, but now ye have a wife, ye’ll need to furnish it appropriately. Every woman appreciates a few luxuries, William. Never forget that.”
He’d spent the last three years improving Creagdoun’s fortifications and estates, and although he’d always known the inside of the castle needed attention, there had always been other tasks that had taken priority.
An oversight he intended to remedy as soon as possible. His bride deserved nothing less than the best.
“Lady Isolde will never have cause to regret our marriage.”
“Make sure of it,” his father said. “I gave Lady Helga my word I’d honor her granddaughter as though she were my own blood. She’ll want for nothing.”
It was good his father wanted only the best for Isolde. But she washiswife. And he was responsible for Isolde’s happiness, not his father. What’s more, the baron’s remarks grated along his senses, as though his sire suspected William was incapable of keeping a noble-born wife in the manner to which she was due.
But there was something else, something that scraped along the edges of his affront, dulling its sting, as he recalled the odd greeting the baron had made upon meeting Isolde. How would his father know Isolde looked like her mother, unless he had met her?
“Sir, forgive me. But did ye know Lady Helga before she came to Dunstrunage ten years ago?”
At first, he didn’t think his father was going to answer. The baron gazed into the distance, as though lost in the distant past, before expelling a deep breath and finally meeting his eyes.
“Aye.” He sounded reluctant. “’Twas before I wed yer lady mother, God rest her soul. I met Lady Helga’s daughter, Ingrid, one summer I spent on the Small Isles. But in the end, I couldn’t remain on Eigg, and she refused to leave Sgur. But I never forgot her.”
It was disconcerting to learn his father had once set his sights on Isolde’s mother. If only he’d kept his mouth shut, but it was too late to regret his curiosity now. He didn’t even knowwhat to say, and instead gave a grunt which hopefully conveyed whatever his father wished it to.
Then his father grasped his shoulder. “Yet here we are, thirty years later, and Ingrid MacDonald of Sgur’s daughter is my son’s wife. And Clan Campbell has a strategic foothold in the Small Isles.”
As William watched his father return to the castle, an uneasy question slithered through his mind. Had he wanted Ingrid MacDonald for herself, or for Sgur?
He knew it didn’t matter. Marriages were rarely undertaken for reasons other than strategic gain. But for a few surreal moments, he thought he’d seen something more in his father’s eyes when he’d spoken of Ingrid, rather than merely a politically advantageous alliance.
Either way, it didn’t affect him. He hadn’t wed Isolde because of her lands. She could have been the third daughter with nothing of value but her name, and he’d still have wanted her as his bride.
At least his memory loss had proved that to him, without a doubt. And once Isolde was truly his bride, she’d see it that way, too.
*
It was earlyafternoon the following day when Isolde caught the first glimpse of Creagdoun. Between the trees, a loch glimmered, and the L-shaped castle stood not far from its banks. It was an imposing sight, although it lacked the elegant style of Dunstrunage, but that wasn’t why a sense of dread gripped her heart.
It was because Creagdoun was so very far from the coast.
There wasn’t even the faintest hint of sea in the breeze, and the sound of gulls had faded long ago. Her fingers tightened on the reins, and she took a few deep breaths to calm herself, but all that did was reinforce how far she was from everything she knew.
William, who’d scarcely left her side throughout the journey from Dunstrunage, caught her gaze and gave her a smile that caused the breath to catch in her throat. The crisp winter air made his stormy blue-gray eyes glitter, but there was nothing cold about them. Heat lurked deep in those enigmatic depths, and a responding curl of flame licked through her blood.
