Page 47 of Beguiled By the Highlander
She was a vision.
And soon, she would be his.
She came to his side, but whereas he couldn’t drag his bewitched gaze from her, she didn’t spare him even a fleeting glance. Her attention was fixed on the chaplain as though she didn’t want to miss a word.
When he slid the ring on her finger, regret flickered through him. It was his bride’s right—Isolde’s right—to wear his belovedmother’s ring. That had always been his intention, even before he’d met her. But for now, they had to make do with a ring from Lady Helga.
Finally, the service finished. And he couldn’t recall a word of it. But that didn’t matter, since the only thing of consequence was that Isolde was now his bride, and with so many witnesses, no one could ever doubt it.
As the hall erupted with activity, with servants rearranging the tables and benches to ready the wedding feast, he clasped her fingers and kissed her hand.
“My lady,” he murmured, his gaze meshing with hers, and lust gripped his vitals so violently he barely managed to swallow his groan. It would be hours before he and Isolde were alone. Maybe he should’ve accepted Lady Helga’s offer for them to remain in the castle for their wedding night and set sail in the morning.
But he wanted to begin their married life in Argyll. At Creagdoun, the castle he’d one day pass onto his son. And, irrational or not, he wanted that son conceived at Creagdoun as a testament of his right to the land.
“William Campbell,” she responded. “It’s not too late to change yer mind and remain on Eigg with me.”
At least she now agreed they belonged together. It was an improvement on her previous stance. Unfortunately, her request was impossible for him to grant.
“My castle needs a mistress. And I can’t leave my lands for too long.” Because if he did, the cursed MacGregors would do all in their power to claim Creagdoun, and Clan Campbell could never allow such a significant stronghold to once again fall into their enemy’s hands. “But all being well, we could make plans to visit the Isle in summer.”
Unless Isolde was with child. He wouldn’t risk her health, or the bairn’s, by allowing it. Besides, surely she wouldn’t wish to undertake an arduous journey unnecessarily.
He was so caught up in the enticing notion of her nurturing his bairn, it took him a moment to realize her serene expression had turned hostile. It was obvious the prospect of waiting so long before seeing her family again did not sit right with her.
The last thing he wanted was to upset his bride on their wedding day. Once again, he raised her hand and brushed another kiss across her fingers. “But Lady Helga and yer sisters are welcome to visit any time they wish, Isolde. Creagdoun is yer home now, as well as mine.”
“How gracious.” She accompanied her words with a smile so filled with ice, it could easily rival a frozen loch in midwinter. “I’ll be sure to inform them of yer benevolence.”
He could feel the eyes of everyone in the hall upon them. And, most likely, judging him. While he didn’t care about the opinion of strangers, Isolde’s rancor grated and threatened his good humor. Was she going to blame him for who he wasforever?
“Do ye really wish to argue today of all days?”
She cast a swift glance around the hall and appeared to realize they were the center of attention. A shudder rippled through her, and he had to force himself not to pull her into his arms to comfort her. Although, she was now his bride in the eyes of God, so would it really cause a scandal if he did?
Before he got the chance to test his theory, she swung about to face him.
“No. This sacrifice will be for nothing if no one believes our alliance is true.”
Stung by her choice of words, he whispered in her ear, so no one might overhear. “’Tis no sacrifice, Isolde. We are wed, not planning to be murdered by yer Pict queen ancestor.”
“Don’t mock things ye know nothing about.”
“Then don’t compare this to being sacrificed for the good of yer isle. I’ve no ill intentions to desecrate the memory of yer foremothers. Alliances are arranged all the time. Aren’t ye at least relieved not to be tied to an old man who can barely leave his disease-ridden bed?”
Her eyes sparked green fire at him. “Ye paint a disgusting picture, William Campbell.”
“Well?” He would not let her ignore his challenge.
She let out a vexed breath. “Aye. I understand what ye’re saying. But that’s not the way of the MacDonald women of Sgur. We don’t wed for those kinds of alliances.”
“Ye do now.”
He regretted his retort the moment he uttered it and saw the stricken expression flash over her face. But it was gone in an instant, and she offered him a brittle smile instead.
“Aye. It seems we do.”
He couldn’t take his hasty words back, but he had to make her admit that what they had was worth something.
