Page 53 of Beguiled By the Highlander
Last night, he hadn’t shared that magnificent bed with her. He’d respected what she’d told him and sprawled on a chair by the hearth. But how a foolish part of her had wanted to spend the night simply wrapped in his arms.
“What do ye think, my lady?”
It was obvious he was referring to her first sight of her new home. A week ago, she would’ve confided her fears to him. But a week ago, he had been Njord.
Now, he was her husband. And while she had to admit he still possessed traces of the honor she’d once thought were an inextricable part of Njord, she couldn’t bring herself to share with William Campbell how daunting she found this new future. For the sake of her pride, it was best to let him believe all was well. “’Tis very grand.”
“Aye.” There was no mistaking the pride in his voice as they drew closer to the castle. And then a frown slashed his brow. “It will be, Isolde. I give ye my word. I’ll make ye proud to be the lady of Creagdoun.”
She cast him a sideways glance as they approached the gatehouse. What an odd thing to say. As though that truly mattered to him when surely all he cared about was the fact he’d achieved his objective in making her his bride.
Is that really all he cares about?
How comforting to believe his concern was genuine. But she’d trod that path before, until her eyes had been opened, and she wouldn’t lose sight of the truth again.
As they rode across the forecourt, the castle’s servants waited at the doors, and she kept a serene smile on her face, despite the unease that tangled in her stomach. From the time she was a small child, she’d learned the importance of how to run a great house, but she’d also always imagined that great house would be Sgur Castle, and the servants would be those she had known all her life.
She shouldn’t have been so complacent. After all, her grandmother had given her fair warning, ten years ago, when she’d signed that alliance with the baron.
William helped her dismount, and his seneschal, Lamond, greeted them, before motioning forward several of the higher-ranking servants, who all seemed pleased to welcome her.
Finally, the ordeal was over, and William led her into the great hall, where several large tapestries covered the walls. She tried not to stare, but it was still a shock to see the substantial fire and smoke damage that disfigured the woven country scenes.
The baron’s wedding gift, which William had told her about last night, was welcome, indeed. But why hadn’t the tapestries been repaired before William had inherited the castle? It seemed the baron, despite his wealth, had neglected to maintain Creagdoun.
“After dinner, I’ll show ye the rest of the castle.” William took her hand, evidently unconcerned by such lack of etiquette, and led her across the hall. It was hard not to recall all the times they had held hands in the past, those secret, hidden, moments, when no one else was around to voice their disapproval.
And now they were wed, and William was the laird of a grand estate, no would dare remark upon his behavior towards his wife.
Despite her best intentions, a ragged sigh raked through her for those few precious days when anything had seemed possible. It seemed like a lifetime ago. Nothing more than a dream.
His hand tightened around hers, as though he’d heard her unwary thoughts, but he didn’t say anything as they went up the stairs. Then he paused.
“We’ll be sharing my bedchamber, Isolde. Just so ye know.”
He made it sound like a challenge. Did he expect her to rise to it?
She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. And then couldn’t help herself. “How can a castle such as Creagdoun lack a lady’s chamber?”
“I didn’t say it lacked the chamber. Just that ye would be sharing mine.”
She squashed the flare of excitement that ignited at his arrogant assumption. It didn’t matter that a week ago she would’ve welcomed the prospect of such a scandalous proposition, because a week ago she’d been utterly in thrall to Njord.
The despicable truth was the prospect still thrilled her. And it was that, more than his imperious command, that truly rankled.
“This is a political alliance, William, not a love match. Ye and I both know the terms of the contract state I’m to be afforded all rights due to my rank.”
A muscle flexed in his jaw, as if her barb had found its mark. “And so ye will, make no mistake. The lady’s chamber is currently not fit for yer use, which is why ye’ll share mine.”
Momentarily deflated by his retort, she fell silent as he continued along the passage. God, what was wrong with her?She didn’t want to share his bedchamber. Why did it matter what the reason was for him suggesting it?
Yet it did. Because she’d assumed only nefarious purposes whereas it appeared there was a genuine explanation.
How mortifying.
He paused, his hand on an iron door ring, and gave her a sideways glance. Warning skittered through her at the blatantly predatory gleam in his eyes.
“In case ye’re in any doubt,” his voice dropped to a low rumble that, infuriatingly, caused heat to bloom between her thighs. “That’s not the main reason why I want ye in my bed, Isolde. Ye’re my bride, and I want ye by my side. Ye’ll discover the merits of that, soon enough.”
