Page 11 of Beguiled By the Highlander
It was Isolde.
Chapter Four
“And I’m tellingye,” Freyja said, as the sisters made their way to their grandmother’s private chamber, “the man needs to rest.”
Irritated that her sister appeared to be implying she gave no heed to Njord’s recent injury, Isolde gave her an aggrieved glance. “I know that. I don’t intend to drag him about the castle until he’s fully recovered. I simply thought he might like the distraction.”
“I believe it’s distraction enough that he’s lost his memories,” her sister retorted.
“Aye, and maybe he’ll recover them faster if he strolls in the courtyard. The fresh air might blow aside the fog in his mind.”
Good Lord, could she not just shut up? She wasn’t even fooling herself as to why she wanted to spend more time with her enigmatic stranger, so there was no surprise she wasn’t fooling Freyja.
Her sister rolled her eyes. “Aye. I’m not denying fresh air will do him good. But not today. If ye wish to coddle him, ye’ll need to do so in the solar.”
“I have no wish tocoddlehim.” Kiss him, aye. Curses. Why did she keep thinking of his delectable mouth?
“I do not think he’d object, if ye offered.” Roisin gave a sweet smile when Isolde turned to her, startled that her sister appeared to have heard her unwary thoughts. “And heisvery handsome, after all.”
“What?” she blurted. It was one thing to find him unaccountably irresistible. It was quite another for her sisters to guess how constantly he’d been on her mind since the moment she’d found him upon the beach.
“Handsome,” Roisin repeated. “Although not in the way of the Tuatha de Danann. But ’tis obvious he finds yer company agreeable, Izzie. I’m certain he’d have no objection to ye keeping him company while he recovers.”
Ah. Roisin spoke of coddling. Not kissing.
What a relief.
Thankfully, she didn’t need to answer since they had arrived at their grandmother’s chamber, and after they entered, they sat on their usual stools before the fire.
Their grandmother regarded them in silence from her carved chair behind her desk. The same desk that had been passed down through generations of Sgur MacDonalds and would, one day far in the future, pass into her own safekeeping.
“There’s something I cannot fathom about this mysterious visitor of ours.”
“There’s nothing to fathom, Amma,” Isolde assured her. “He’s a lost soul, nothing more.”
“That I do not deny.” Their grandmother drew in a great breath, but a frown marred her brow. “Yet still, something feels amiss.”
Isolde kept a placid smile upon her face. Like Roisin, their grandmother often saw far more than anyone would wish. And the last thing Isolde wanted was for her beloved amma to suspect she held anything more than conventional concern for the stranger from the sea.
“Do ye think he feigns his memory loss?” Freyja sounded curious, and Isolde gave her an incredulous glance at the accusation.
“Why would he feign such a thing?” She looked back at their grandmother, but it was impossible to guess her thoughts. “Amma, surely ye cannot believe this of him?”
Their grandmother focused on Freyja. “What is yer view?”
Isolde pressed her lips together. Generally, her grandmother’s deference to Freyja in such matters wouldn’t bother her. Frey was, after all, an esteemed healer and midwife. But this concerned the stranger.Herstranger. And she did not care for how his honor was being questioned.
“Certainly, his injury could cause his memory to fragment.” Freyja paused, as though considering the matter. “I believe his story is genuine. I cannot imagine why anyone should fabricate such a tale, especially when the circumstances put their own life in such peril.”
Isolde let out a disbelievinghuh. “Aye, for if Patric and I hadn’t ventured onto the beach this morn, the poor man would’ve died of exposure. A fine plan that would be if he was truly a spy or—or whatever it is ye’re insinuating.”
“Why would a spy come to Eigg?” Roisin sounded flummoxed by the notion. “And a spy from where?”
“Child, spies are everywhere.” Their grandmother sighed and gazed into space, as Isolde and her sisters exchanged startled glances.
Spies were everywhere? Certainly, she’d made the accusation, but she hadn’t really meant it. To be sure, one always had to be wary when dealing with other clans, but the Isles were predominately MacDonald, and suspicious behavior by others was never a secret for long.
She shook her head, as if that might clarify things. Of course, she couldn’t know forsurethat her stranger was of Clan MacDonald, but would she feel such an affinity for him, if he were not?
