Page 43 of Beguiled By the Highlander
“Watch it.” There was a thread of amusement in Robert’s voice as he gave Malcolm a friendly punch on the arm. “There’s only one sword Lady Isolde will handle from now, and it doesn’t belong in an armory.”
“Enough.” William’s voice was harsh, and the laughter among his men died instantly. With difficulty, he released his death grip on the tankard before he splintered the damn thing. He wasn’t usually averse to bawdy talk. But it was entirely different, he discovered, when it involved Isolde.
Fortunately, there was no more time for talk. Supper was served, and Lady Helga had invited his men to join them. But tonight, he wasn’t sitting next to Isolde, and she avoided looking his way, whereas he could scarcely keep his eyes off her.
It was obvious there would be no surreptitious visit to the solar this night, and he shifted on the uncomfortable bench, but it didn’t help relieve his throbbing cock.
The sooner they were wed the better. And then he could claim his bride.
*
The following morningafter breakfast, Patric sought Isolde out, and they went into the courtyard for privacy. She shivered and tugged her shawl more securely about herself but couldn’t stopher mind from snagging on the fact William had not been at the table with the rest of his men.
Was he making good on his threat for them to wed without having the banns read? Did he really expect her to participate in such an irregular ceremony?
“Isolde.” Patric’s voice was low, and she dragged her attention back to the present. She hadn’t heard a word he’d said to her.
“I’m sorry.” She sighed. “What did ye say?”
“I’ll accompany ye to Creagdoun. I’ve no doubt Lady Helga will allow it.”
Mute, she stared at him, this loyal warrior to her father who had been such a steadfast mentor and, aye, a friend to her over the last ten years. She’d been so incensed at how William had hoodwinked her that it hadn’t occurred to her to consider who she might take with her in her new life. Because she was still wrapped up in the conviction that she’d remain on Eigg until her dying breath.
Having Patric tell her of his plans to accompany her was akin to being plunged into an icy loch.
How did she plan to escape this fate?
Her own grandmother had arranged it. Her bridegroom was more than eager to seal the alliance. And, much as she loathed to admit it, even here, on the Western Isles, the cursed Earl of Argyll was not a man to be crossed.
Spectral wisps of alarm spun through her breast, disorientating her, and she struggled against the overwhelming compunction to sink to the ground and bury her fingers in the mud.
That wouldn’t help. Because this time it wasn’t the strength of her foremothers she needed.
It was a miracle.
Patric grasped her arm, a concerned frown wreathing his face. Clearly, she hadn’t hidden her feelings as well as she had imagined. And although she longed to rest her forehead against his shoulder and feel his kindly arms about her, she remained rigid as her future fragmented and reformed before her very eyes.
“I believe he’s a good man.” Patric’s voice was rough, and she couldn’t trust herself to speak. It was foolish, she knew it, yet his words felt like a small betrayal. “But know this. My loyalty lies with ye, and always will.”
*
The sea wascalm, and any other time Isolde would have enjoyed her solitary walk on the beach with Sjor, but her mind would not still, and no wonder. At least her grandmother had granted permission for her to be present at the meeting this morning, but only after extracting a promise that she wouldn’t interfere with the negotiations.
Negotiations that would affect the rest ofherlife.
She huffed out a breath and glared at the misty horizon, but she could delay returning to the castle no longer. As much as she didn’t want this cursed meeting to go ahead, it would be far worse if she were excluded altogether due to her tardiness.
As she entered the great hall, she pulled off her gloves and then stopped dead as she saw Roisin standing beside the hearth, entrapped by Hugh Campbell.
Protectiveness and a hot wave of anger rushed through her, and she marched over to them. How dare he accost her sister in their own home? Roisin was far too shy to tell a stranger, and a man at that, to back off, or even leave herself for fear of being considered rude.
Luckily, Isolde had no such difficulties when it came to putting obnoxious individuals in their place.
As she drew closer, she heard Hugh speaking. “I should be honored to see that, my lady.”
Honor be damned. It was a foreign concept for all Campbells. Before he could upset her sister any further, she came to her side and hooked her arm through hers.
“There ye are,” she said, as if she’d been looking for her. “Where’s Grear?”
