Page 38 of Beguiled By the Highlander
Except it was only too clear she wanted nothing to do with him.
Hugh was speaking, but there was something of more importance he needed to address. He gripped his cousin’s arm. “Later, Hugh.”
Hugh nodded, and William strode after Isolde.
By the glow from the lanterns that lit the forecourt, he saw her striding to the armory. He grabbed a lantern and let out a curse under his breath as he quickened his pace. “Isolde, wait.”
She didn’t even pause. He reached her side just as she thrust the key into the lock of the armory.
“Are ye planning to run me through with ye father’s claymore?” It was only half in jest. She certainly looked irate enough to challenge him.
She snatched her hand away before he could grasp her fingers but kept her glare firmly on the door. “Ye deserve nothing less.”
The bitterness in her voice hit him right in the gut. She sounded as if she couldn’t bear the very sight of him.
“Why?” He grabbed her arm and swung her about, so she had no choice but to face him. “Because I’m a Campbell? Christ, Isolde. I even asked ye if ye would feel any differently about me if I discovered I was a Campbell. But ye’re not even trying. Ye’re condemning me for something I have no power over.”
“Not even trying?” She all but spat the words in his face, and it took more willpower than he cared to admit not to recoil from her anger. “Don’t make me laugh, William Campbell.” His name fell from her tongue as if the sound of it sickened her. “Ye knew who ye were all along. What a fine jest, to pretend ye recalled nothing, when all the time ye were merely spinning a web around me.”
“I never lied to ye.” His voice was harsh, but he could scarcely believe she leveled such an accusation at him. “Have ye forgotten how it was ye who found me half dead on the beach?”
“I remember. And I remember how Patric and I thought it a miracle a man could survive such a thing. But it was no miracle. It was all part of yer despicable plan to ensnare me.”
He almost laughed at her outrageous claim. Except he’d never felt less like laughing in his life. “Why would I plan to be attacked on my own ship and thrown overboard in a raging storm? Only a madman would fabricate such a foolhardy scheme.”
She gave a mirthless laugh, and something sharp and hot stabbed through his chest. “Stop. I’ll not fall for any more of yer tales. I’m disgusted that I ever did.”
“Tales?” He pulled her closer, and her gasp of outrage fueled his own. “Did I imagine that bash on my head?”
“’Tis likely yer cousin Hugh gave it to ye, to lend credence to yer falsehood.”
“Will ye listen to yerself, woman? Yer accusations are madness.”
Aye, utter madness, yet he still wanted to wrap his arms around her and kiss her until all her groundless recriminations fled.
She wrenched her arm free and glared at him. “My only madness was not listening to those with more sense. Even Colban MacDonald saw through ye, but I wouldn’t heed his warning.”
Having Colban MacDonald’s name thrown in his face after the man had tried to murder him while his back was turned was too much.
“Colban MacDonald is a worthless—” He bit off his words. In her current state of mind, she would never believe her clansman had attempted so cowardly an attack. He dragged in a deep breath and tried to clear his mind. “I know ye have an aversion to Campbells. But just because I’ve regained my memory doesn’t change the fact I’m still the same man I was yesterday.”
“Alas, I’m certain that’s true.” She sounded on the edge of tears, and instinctively he reached out to her. She’d had a shock. He could understand that. But before he could comfort her, she batted his hand away as if he were nothing but an irritant. “How amusing it must have been to ye, that I never questioned yer loss of memory.”
“Questioned it?” God damn it, did she really think so little of him? “Isolde, I had no idea I was William Campbell until I saw Hugh.”
“And how quickly ye recalled everything, once ye did.” Derision dripped from every word, and he stared at her, speechless, as for the first time he realized how that must have seemed to her.
He didn’t understand how it had happened himself, much less enough to try and explain it to her. But when Hugh had approached him, when he’d said his name, the fog in his mind had vanished, like early morning mist in the mountains.
He hadn’t simply recognized his cousin. All his missing memories had flooded back, settling in his mind, and a great weight had lifted from his chest at the knowledge of who he was.
But it wasn’t just the fact he now knew he was William Campbell, the laird of Creagdoun. It was the realization that the woman he was pledged to wed wasn’t a faceless MacDonald of the isle who wanted him as little as he wanted her.
No, by God. He had washed up on Sgur Beach, and all his preconceptions had been left deep in the sea. He’d known nothing of his past or his future duty. Yet Isolde, the wild MacDonald lass to whom he was betrothed, had bewitched him from the moment he’d first gazed into her eyes, as though their destinies had always been entwined.
He wasn’t one for thinking such outlandish thoughts, and he’d rip out his tongue rather than voice such a belief to anyone. But he couldn’t dislodge the notion from his mind that the reason Isolde had found him, when neither of them knew of the prior connection between them, was proof that they were meant to be together.
And not just because her grandmother and his father had forged a contract ten years ago. Contracts were drawn up all the time. But what were the chances he and Isolde could be giventime to learn to know each other without the shadow of that damn contract hanging over their heads?
