Page 86 of Beguiled By the Highlander
The guilt twisted deeper, squeezing her heart. But it wasn’t just guilt. And maybe it wasn’t guilt at all. All she knew was if this was the last time she and William spoke, and she didn’t tell him what he meant to her, she’d regret it for the rest of her life.
“Ye don’t need to prove anything.” Her voice was hoarse, and she swallowed, but it didn’t help. “I know ye never lied to me.Not when I thought ye were Njord, and not now, when I know ye as William.”
He gave a hollow laugh. “Ye’ll never know how I wish we could return to the days when I was no one but yer Njord, the stranger from the sea.”
Once, she had wished for that, too. But she knew better now. “’Twas nothing more than a dream, William. Ye’re needed here, I can see that. Creagdoun needs a strong laird, and she’ll never have a finer one than ye.”
“Or a finer mistress than ye.”
Hope leaped in her breast, warmth suffusing her chilled flesh. He had seen the folly of his hasty words, and had changed his mind—
“It takes a battle to bring down a castle,” he said. “But it only takes one stab of a dagger or sword to—” He sucked in a harsh breath, and a visible shudder racked him. “I took ye from yer isle, where ye were safe, and brought ye to Creagdoun and deadly danger. I was so certain ye’d grow to love the castle, but I was wrong. Ye’ll never be happy here. Yer heart belongs in Eigg.”
An eerie shiver skated along her arms. It wasn’t anger driving him.
It was fear.
For her.
And if she couldn’t reach him, that same fear would drive them apart forever.
She didn’t quite have the nerve to reach out and pull him into her arms, but she took a step closer to him, and although he appeared to brace himself, at least he didn’t back away.
“I once believed I could never be happy living anywhere but Eigg.” Her voice was soft, but when he clenched his jaw and briefly squeezed his eyes shut, she hastily added, “But I was wrong. I can’t claim to love Creagdoun the way ye do, but I’m certain, in time, I will.”
“Creagdoun.” There was a trace of bitterness in his voice as his stormy eyes locked with hers. “Don’t ye see, Isolde? It’s just a pile of rocks, and if it ever falls, it can be rebuilt. Aye, I do love the castle and my lands, and I’m proud to be laird, but it means nothing—nothing, do ye hear?—when compared to how I love ye. From the moment I awoke on yer Isle and looked into yer beautiful eyes, I was lost. I just didn’t know it. Whether I’m Njord or William Campbell, my heart belongs to ye, and it always will. And that’s why I must set ye free.”
He loves me.
It should have been the happiest moment of her life, to know he felt the same as she. But it was because he loved her, he was sending her away. The way he had once been prepared to leave her on her isle to discover who he was, and despair entwined around the bittersweet joy that threatened to undo her.
She took another step closer to him, and this time grasped his hand.
“Do ye think I could ever leave Creagdoun, now I know how ye feel about me? William, I fell in love with my stranger from the sea before we even kissed, and that’s never changed. The reason I was so angry when I thought ye had tricked me is because, even then, I couldn’t stop loving ye. And God help me, I never will.”
He cradled her cheek with his fist, such a gentle, despairing touch, she had the overwhelming desire to weep. Why did he still gaze at her as though the world were ending, when she’d just told him why she could never possibly leave him?
“Ye must return to Eigg, mo chridhe. We both know it. Don’t make this harder for me. Go back to yer isle and live the life ye were born for.”
He was still pushing her away, after everything they had both said, and she pulled back from his touch before she did something unforgiveable. Such as allowing a tear to escape.
“Harder forye?” It was a foolish thing to focus on, but for some reason she couldn’t move past it. “What of me? Don’t ye care that I want to stay at Creagdoun—that I want to stay withye?”
He swung about and marched to the hearth before expelling a tortured breath. “’Twas only by the grace of God, or sheer good luck, that ye escaped MacGregor. But on yer isle, ye would’ve stood a chance to defend yerself against him. I know how good ye are with a sword, Isolde. But because of me, ye were defenseless.”
And finally, she understood.
She went to his side and grasped his biceps, pushing at his immovable muscles until, with obvious reluctance, he faced her.
“I was wrong,” she whispered, and she cupped his jaw, his day-old beard grazing her fingers. “I always believed if I left the isle, my strength would remain in the earth of Eigg, where the blood of my foremothers has nourished the land for years without number. But ye saw the truth, William. Ye saw what I could not. It’s not the isle. My skills are within me, wherever I may be, but it took MacGregor telling me how he had slain ye and would take yer castle before I could believe in myself.”
His gaze roved over her forehead, where she had slammed into MacGregor’s face to free herself. Tenderly, William traced a finger over the spreading bruise, before he released a jagged breath and cradled her face in his palm, mirroring her own actions.
“Ye fought him?” His voice was husky, but there was a thread of doubt as though he wasn’t certain he had understood.
“Patric’s taught me many tricks to escape a man’s clutches that require only quick thinking and nimble feet. As soon as MacGregor released me, I used my trusty dagger to sever his ear, and then I ran.”
Comprehension dawned in William’s eyes as he appeared to understand where the blood on her shawl had come from. Then admiration replaced realization, and thankfully, and most importantly, the final remnants of fear in his eyes finally vanished.
