Page 65 of Beguiled By the Highlander
Because he hadn’t wanted to cause any trouble. But it was more than that. If the only reason he’d washed up on the beach was to ensnare her in some tangled net of his own making, then surely it made sense he’d try and enlist her sympathy by telling her how Colban had attacked him.
Especially when he had an impeccable witness in Patric.
The fact that he hadn’t simply reinforced her original impression of him.
As a man of honor.
Her grandmother had told her she needed to learn to keep perspective in all matters to be a fair judge of the truth, but when it came to William, she’d allowed her wounded pride to blind her. The last shreds of doubt that he’d lied to her about losing his memories died, and she released a soft groan. “I misjudged him, Patric.”
“Ye’re not the first to misjudge a man. And ye had fair reason.” Then he paused, a dark frown slashing his brow. “My loyalty is to ye, my lady, and always will be. Never doubt that. But William Campbell and I are of one mind when it comes to yer safety.”
She knew Patric would defend her with his life. And now the last doubts had faded about William, she understood why he’d commanded her to stay within the castle walls, even if the prospect still caused a tight knot to lodge in her chest.
But her distress at being confined was nothing compared to this. Because now she was convinced that he’d never lied to her, another fear that she’d managed to suppress over the last few days clawed through her heart.
Someone had tried to murder William on his ship. And he was still in danger.
Chapter Twenty
After leaving Isolde,William gathered half a dozen of his men to accompany him to visit the earl, but as Creagdoun vanished into the early morning mist behind them, his mind was only half on the task.
All he could see in his mind was the contempt on Isolde’s face as she’d accused him of keeping her a prisoner.
His bride. A prisoner. How could she even think that?
After the harsh words they’d exchanged on the day he’d shown her Creagdoun’s secret passages, he’d believed they had come to a new understanding. Or, rather, that she’d accepted she’d been wrong to distrust him.
Yet she’d flungassassinat him like an accusation. As though she still refused to see the truth.
God damn it, all he wanted was to keep her safe. Her petulance was a small price to pay for his peace of mind.
Except peace was the last thing he felt when her condemnation rang in his head like a clarion.
A wife was not meant to question her lord’s every word. Yet even as that fact crawled into his mind, he knew its folly. If Isolde was the kind of woman to obey everything he said without argument, was it likely he’d find her so irresistibly fascinating?
The rebuttal echoed in his mind, when all he should be concentrating on was what information the earl had for him. But he couldn’t even discuss that with any of his men, because he couldn’t damn well trust his men, and as far as they wereconcerned, he’d lost his footing in the storm and tumbled overboard.
Involuntarily, his fingers tightened on the reins. It irked him more than it should that his injury was attributed to a moment’s clumsiness rather than the truth. But there was no help for it.
He hoped to God the earl had good news for him.
It was late morning before they arrived at the manor where the earl had lately been staying since surrendering Castle Campbell to the queen, and were shown into the great hall, where he waited, standing before the fire.
“My lord,” he said as the earl greeted him, and from the corner of his eye he saw Hugh and Alasdair with a group of the earl’s men. He hadn’t known Hugh would be here. His cousin had left Creagdoun a few days ago, as another crisis had arisen at his father’s stronghold that he’d needed to deal with.
“I’m told ye wed the MacDonald lass while ye were lost at sea.” The earl eyed him, and William wasn’t sure whether his comment was a rebuke or not. “That bash on yer head as ye fell overboard obviously knocked some sense into ye. Congratulations, William. Good work.”
He gave a grim smile and hoped the earl couldn’t tell how his remark had rubbed him the wrong way. Not the implication that he’d fallen overboard. That was a strategic maneuver when there was no telling how many ears might overhear them.
No. It was thegood workcomment. As if he’d somehow manipulated Isolde into an early wedding.
Didn’t ye, though?
The earl thrust a tankard of ale at him, and he took a long swallow as good-natured jibes and congratulations from the earl’s men were aimed his way. But he couldn’t easily dismiss the lingering accusation in his mind.
Aye, he’d rushed her. He would admit to that. But whether they had wed at Sgur or waited until the summer and married in Argyll, the end result was the same.
She was his bride. And he would never regret ensuring she had returned to Creagdoun with him.
