Page 67 of Beguiled By the Highlander
“Not yet. I’m hoping to hear from him later this week. I’ll send word if he shows his face.”
They rode in silence for a while before Hugh drew close once again. “How’s married life treating ye, William? I trust Lady Isolde is well.”
“Aye. She’s well.” Once again, he saw the disdain that had glowed in her eyes just before he’d left her. An odd tightening sensation assailed his chest. Had he been too harsh? He didn’t want her to feel she was a prisoner. Maybe he hadn’t explained his reasons to her well enough.
Except surely she understood his reasoning. How couldn’t she?
“Send my regards to yer lady wife,” Hugh said, and William clasped his cousin’s arm in farewell before Hugh headed to his father’s stronghold.
As William watched his cousin ride off, an uneasy sliver of doubt raised its ugly head.
No. He wouldn’t contemplate it. The earl could think whatever he liked, but he, William, knew in the depths of his soul that Hugh would never betray him.
*
When Isolde returnedto the castle after her enlightening conversation with Patric, a restless energy consumed her. To be sure, a brisk walk along the beach would cure that malady, but even if she could leave the castle walls, there were no beaches closer than a day’s ride away.
She drew in a deep breath. Of course, there was always something that needed attention, but she wanted to dosomething other than the usual daily chores of running a grand castle. Something that would show William her commitment to their new life together. Besides, she had already completed the duties she’d set herself for the day before she’d disgraced herself with her father’s claymore.
No. She wasn’t going to dwell on that, and she forced the humiliating memory to the back of her mind. There was something of far more importance she needed to focus on.
She’d misjudged William, and the knowledge of how she’d disdained him gnawed through her. He’d never deserved her harsh words. All he had done was his duty, and she wanted to do something to make it up to him. As she and Emer entered the antechamber, she paused before going into the bedchamber she shared with William, and her gaze snagged on the door that led to the lady’s chamber.
Aye. There was something she could do. He’d told her she had free rein to do whatever she wished to make the castle more comfortable. So far, she hadn’t taken him up on it, because a part of her simply couldn’t see Creagdoun as her home.
But it was her home, and even if she could never feel it was a part of her soul the way Sgur was, William loved Creagdoun. All her life, she had been trained to be the mistress of a grand estate. And, as his wife, it was her duty to ensure the interior of the castle befit his status.
It wasn’t his fault Creagdoun wasn’t Sgur. And maybe by bringing the castle up to the standard William deserved, she might find a way to ground herself in this new life.
Restoring the lady’s chamber offered an intriguing challenge before she set her mind to enhancing the great hall.
She turned to Emer. “It’s time I looked to improving the castle. We should start on the lady’s chamber.”
Emer didn’t look convinced. “’Tis a right mess in there, milady. ’Tis in need of a mason to repair that damage.”
Isolde’s enthusiasm wavered since Emer wasn’t wrong. But she’d made up her mind and wouldn’t be dissuaded.
“Indeed. And I shall ensure the finest stonemason is found. But first, I must evaluate exactly what needs to be done.”
With obvious reluctance, Emer accompanied her. As Isolde opened the door and surveyed the chamber, her heart sank. She’d forgotten just how damaged it was.
She pulled her shawl more securely around her shoulders and tried to stop shivering. “The window and shutters need repair first of all,” she remarked, and Emer hastily agreed. “And, of course, a mason to repair the stonework.”
She crossed the floor and examined one of the dust-coated tapestries that hung upon the wall. Surprisingly, it appeared in reasonable condition, and she turned to Emer.
“Find a couple of maids, Emer. I do believe a good beating will work wonders on these tapestries.”
Emer nodded and departed, and Isolde returned her attention to the chamber. She’d speak to the steward about finding a mason. Now she’d had time to look closer, the damage appeared more superficial than she’d first feared.
Sjor barked, and she smiled at him indulgently as he nosed along the far wall.
“What is it?” She went over to him and ran her gaze over the large tapestry. It was in poor condition, but it was the wall upon which it hung that caught her attention. She lifted the edge of the tapestry and gazed at the wooden wall panels. Had the entire chamber once had such beautiful coverings? It was a shame to hide it. She’d make a feature of this wall.
Sjor had finished sniffing and was now scratching madly at the wood. “No,” she admonished him, crouching down and wrapping her arm about him. “Don’t ruin the panel, Sjor.”
She frowned. There was a faint draft, and it wasn’t coming from the broken shutters. Intrigued, she pressed her fingers against the edge of the panel.
There was no mistake. There was definitely a draft. She patted Sjor as excitement surged through her. “Have ye found me a secret chamber, my bonny lad?”
