Page 31 of Beguiled By the Highlander
Her mouth dried and her heart hammered in her breast. With only the dull glow from his candle and her small oil lamp, he appeared so much bigger than he did in daylight, and towered over her in a way that was both breathtaking and a little alarming.
It had seemed such a grand idea to come and speak with him when she had been safely in her bed. But now she was here, she could scarcely believe she’d carried through on her harebrained scheme.
She should have waited until the morning. But it was too late to change her mind now and truth be told, she didn’t want to.
She needed his arms around her. His kisses to reassure her all would be well. Most of all, she needed him to promise that he would return to Eigg—to her—when he’d discovered his past.
To return to her even if his memories never came back.
Chapter Ten
Isolde stood beforehim, the lamplight flickering over the delicate features of her face, and he expelled a tortured breath. When he’d opened the door to her, he’d feared he had fallen into a fevered dream, but she was no nighttime fantasy. She had come to him, despite all the risks that entailed, and he could scarcely fathom it.
Her plait trailed over her shoulder and errant red-gold curls brushed her cheeks and she gazed at him, more tempting than any of the forbidden visions that haunted him whenever they were apart.
He should send her away, while he still could. But instead, he remained mute, drinking in the reality that Isolde was in his chamber, and there could be only one reason for it. Especially since her faithful dog did not shadow her heels as he usually did.
“Did I wake ye?” Her voice was hushed.
“No.” It wasn’t quite the truth. He’d been half asleep, his mind filled with lustful images of seducing Isolde, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. “But it wouldn’t matter if ye had.”
He took her lamp and placed it, and his candle, on the table beside the box bed, before taking her hand and pulling her close. Lust thundered through his veins and pounded at his temples, and he was so damn hard he feared for his sanity.
His honor was all he possessed. The only thing he had in the world, to prove to Isolde he was worthy of the trust she put in him. But he feared it wasn’t strong enough to resist her when shemelted against him, and when the beat of her heart sank into his blood like a powerful aphrodisiac from the dawn of time.
She released a shaky breath. “I should have waited until the morn. Ye’ll think me foolish, but I cannot help the hurt I feel.”
“Hurt?” With more difficulty than he’d ever admit, he hauled his rabid hunger back and tried to focus his desire fogged brain. What had he missed? And then a possessive wave of outrage boiled through him, and he cupped her jaw, tilting her head back so she looked at him. “Who’s hurt ye?”
She shuddered before taking a great breath, and he steeled himself for her revelation. No one had the right to upset his Isolde and, stranger from the sea or not, he’d ensure justice prevailed.
“I cannot believe Amma would do such a thing, but she told me so herself.”
He knew she called Lady Helgaamma, an old Norse word for grandmother, and his righteous anger ebbed. Whatever Lady Helga had said paled to insignificance against the myriad insults against Isolde he’d imagined during these last few moments.
“What did she do?” Tenderly, he brushed an irresistible curl from her cheek. Her skin was soft and warm, and he swallowed, battling against the urge to sweep her into his arms and take her to bed.
It seemed she hadn’t appeared at his door for the reason he’d imagined.
Her fingers traced along the front of his shirt, and he tensed. She wasn’t being provocative on purpose. The reminder didn’t help cool the fire licking through his blood.
And then she grasped his shirt and a frustrated groan lodged in his throat.
“It was her.” Her whisper was agonized, and he forced himself to focus on what she was saying, and not what she was doing to his body. “It was Amma who approached BruceCampbell about an alliance. How could she betray everything we believe in?”
He knew how little Isolde thought of Clan Campbell, and over the last few days he’d learned—relearned, most likely—how the Campbells had eroded the MacDonalds’ power over the Western Isles.
The possibility that Lady Helga had been coerced into agreeing to an alliance between Isolde and Bruce Campbell’s son had lodged in the back of his mind. Only a laird from an equally powerful clan stood a hope of challenging such an alliance. It was the reason why he needed to leave Eigg and find out who he truly was.
But if Lady Helga was the driving force behind it, how did that change things? He couldn’t challenge a noblewoman with ancient royal blood in her veins. A lady who’d allowed him to recover in her own castle.
Frustration curdled deep in his gut. “So it’s not the Campbells holding ye to this betrothal?”
“Ah.” She gave a bitter laugh. “The alliance with the MacDonalds of Sgur is too enticing for any Campbell to disregard. Amma may have made the first approach—and I’m not certain I can ever forgive her for it—but ye can be assured Bruce Campbell won’t let the prospect of digging his claws into Eigg slip through his fingers.”
“I swear to ye, Isolde, if I have the bloodline, I’ll challenge every damn Campbell for the right to make ye mine.”
She hitched in a jagged breath. “I don’t care about yer bloodline.”
