Page 75 of Beguiled By the Highlander
But they weren’t at his heels. They were closing in on Isolde. How long ago had MacGregor left their company? Long enough to have arrived at Creagdoun already?
The castle wasn’t undefended. And Isolde had Patric by her side. But none of them would suspect the man they knew as Malcolm MacNeil was the traitor in their midst. The man who, there surely was no doubt, had tried to murder him on the ship.
He’d assured Isolde she was safe within Creagdoun. Safe away from her isle. Had pledged to protect her from his enemies. Nausea rolled through him, and he sent a desperate prayer to God.
Don’t let me be too late.
Chapter Twenty-Three
It was midafternoon,and still no word had arrived from William. Isolde paced the courtyard, breathing in deep as she waited for Sjor to finish his business. The weather was dull and damp, and she shivered as they returned to the hall. Even though William had promised to be back before nightfall, it was very possible he’d decide to stay at the earl’s manor. She just hoped he’d send a messenger to let her know all was well.
Please God, let all be well.
“I’ll fetch ye a dry shawl, milady,” Emer said, and she dragged herself from her wretched thoughts and smiled at her maid, who looked frozen to the bone.
“No, ’tis all right. I’ll go myself. See if ye can find something warm for us to drink.”
Emer nodded and made her way to the kitchen, and Isolde went upstairs. As she entered the antechamber, she pulled off her shawl and draped it over a chair near the hearth before going into the bedchamber and wrapping a dry shawl about her shoulders.
Her glance caught on the unicorn tapestry that covered the wall. It was too grand for a bedchamber, and that was a fact, but she did love how welcoming it made the chamber. And along with the fine rug she’d brought with her from Sgur before the hearth, the chill in the air was scarcely noticeable.
It was, indeed, her favorite corner of Creagdoun. But it’d mean nothing to her if William did not return.
Why did she keep thinking that? She’d learned, throughout her girlhood, how to conduct herself and order her household through any contingency. But how different it was in reality, to put her personal feelings aside when this marriage was so much more than a mere political alliance.
Had she told William that? She had the terrible feeling she hadn’t. All she’d ever said to him was how she despised his deception, when he hadn’t deceived her at all.
But surely, he knew she believed his word now? How could he not realize how she really felt about him? In her heart, he was her Njord, and despite everything that had happened between them, that had never changed, even when she’d wanted to hate him.
A name was everything. She knew that. But in a secret corner of her soul, it didn’t make any difference whether she called him by the ancient Norse name, or his God given one.
It didn’t change the man he had always been.
She drew in a ragged breath in an attempt to compose herself. She couldn’t hide up here, when the servants needed to see her about the castle doing her duties. It wasn’t her place to indulge in secret fears. It was her responsibility to ensure she maintained a façade that all was well.
When William returned, he would have no cause to reproach her behavior. Because of course he would return. The odds were stacked too heavily against the MacGregors for any other outcome to be considered.
She clung onto that irrefutable fact, and as she left the bedchamber, Sjor darted across the floor and barked at the door that led to the lady’s chamber.
“Come,” she called, but for once her faithful lad ignored her. She sighed and followed him before dropping into a crouch and scratching him behind his ears. “Is it a mouse ye hear?”
Shaking her head, she opened the door. “Go on, then. Flush it out, lad.”
Sjor raced inside, and she squinted into the gloom before lighting a lantern and following him. Far from chasing an unfortunate rodent, he was scratching frantically at the tapestry that covered the secret passageway.
“Hey,” she admonished him, but again he ignored her which was... odd. She went over to him and lifted the tapestry.
Nothing was amiss. The panel was in place. What had she expected?
She glanced at Sjor, who gazed up at her expectantly. Unease twisted through her stomach, and she slowly ran a finger along the panel. There was nothing to see here. Why then could she not simply leave?
Sjor whined, and she shook her head in exasperation. “What are ye playing at? There’s nothing here. Look.”
She released the clasp and pushed open the panel.
The concealed wooden door was open.
Stupefied, she stared into the darkness beyond, while her mind scrabbled to make sense of it. She’d locked the door the other day. She was certain of it.
