Page 49 of Beguiled By the Highlander
“Ye can stretch yer legs in a moment, my bonny wee lad,” she whispered. Before they began the next leg of their journey to Creagdoun. But she knew it wasn’t just the unfamiliarity of the ship that agitated him. He missed his littermates.
“Here.” William appeared by her side and attempted to take the basket from her. She tightened her grip, and he expelled a loud sigh. “Are ye still being contrary, Isolde? I’m merely trying to help.”
“I can manage to carry Sjor’s basket,” she said with as much dignity as she could, considering she dearly wanted to take issue with hiscontrarycomment. “I’m not a fragile southern maiden who cannot undertake such a simple task.”
“Just as well.” He eyed her and despite everything, flickers of warmth raced over her skin. Curse her foolish feelings. “A sassenach lass would never suit me.”
With that, he remained by her side until he’d safely deposited her on dry land before he returned to the ship to supervise the unloading of her trunks.
With a silent sigh of relief, she placed Sjor’s basket on the ground. She’d rip out her tongue rather than ever admit it, but her darling lad was heavier than she’d anticipated, and it hadn’t been easy maintaining her dignity as she’d disembarked while grasping onto the basket for dear life.
Emer, one of her grandmother’s loyal serving women who was now her personal maid, hurried to her side. The voyage hadn’t agreed with her, but thankfully she no longer looked as though she were about to throw up her breakfast.
Patric joined them, along with the dozen warriors he’d handpicked to accompany her to Creagdoun, and her heart squeezed in her chest when she spied her beloved claymore secured on his back.
How could she ever use it again, so far from the isle of her birth?
The port was busy, but even between the throngs of people going about their business, it was easy to spot William as he strode through the crowd towards her. Why did her breath catch in her throat every time she saw him? It was most annoying.
When he reached her side, he took her hand. “We’ll rest here for a short time while we procure wagons and horses. There’s a patch of grass yonder where Sjor can run.”
Why was he so thoughtful? Surely not many men would be so mindful of her dog’s needs. It made it harder to recall why she couldn’t trust him.
And she couldn’t afford to trust him. Not when she couldn’t believe anything he said to her.
“He’ll enjoy that,” she acknowledged, especially since she knew how much he’d hate being secured in his basket in a bumpy wagon. But there was no help for it. He wasn’t as young as he once was and couldn’t possibly make the journey to Creagdoun under his own steam.
“William.” Hugh hailed him as he approached. “There’s a messenger from Dunstrunage. Yer father requests ye and yer bride visit before traveling to Creagdoun.”
“If we detour to Dunstrunage, we’ll never reach Creagdoun before sundown.”
“I doubt the baron expects ye to continue yer journey today. He’s sent horses and wagons for yer use.”
William expelled an impatient breath before turning to her. “It seems we are delayed, my lady. Dunstrunage is less than anhour north from here, but even if we don’t stay the night, I doubt we could leave the castle before dark.”
“I should like to meet the baron.” Aye, she’d very much like to meet the powerful Campbell who had agreed so readily with her grandmother’s proposed alliance. “And it will be good to recover overnight from the crossing before another lengthy journey.”
Concern flashed across his face. “Ye should’ve told me ye were feeling weary, Isolde.”
Why would he leap to that conclusion? And why did his obvious care for her comfort still manage to touch her, when she knew how easily insincere, honeyed words could drip from his tongue?
“I’m perfectly well.” Inadvertently, she glanced at Emer before returning her attention to William. “It simply makes sense to visit the baron, since we are so close.”
He also glanced at Emer, and she saw understanding dawn.
“Aye.” He sounded reluctant. “I know my father is eager to meet ye. He would have had us wed five years ago if he’d had his way.”
“Then let us be thankful for small mercies.”
He flashed her a grin. Evidently, her barb had entirely missed its mark. He leaned in close, so no one could overhear. “I wanted our first night together to be at Creagdoun. But Dunstrunage is my childhood home so I cannot be too disappointed.”
Their wedding night. Heat scorched her as fractured images of the time she’d spent in his bed blazed through her mind. If only she’d remained in her own bedchamber that night, she wouldn’t now be plagued by those cursed memories. Yet it seemed her treacherous body didn’t care how William had manipulated her, and sparks of desire ignited between her thighs.
She drew in a steadying breath, but it didn’t help calm her galloping pulse. “Alas,” she whispered, “our wedding was sorushed ye didn’t allow for a suitable date to be arranged. My monthly courses are upon me.”
For an eternal moment, he appeared bemused. And then realization struck, and consternation wreathed his features. Indeed, he looked so mortified by her revelation she had the alarming urge to laugh.
Thankfully, she managed to keep her mirth contained and merely raised her eyebrows when he took a hasty step back.
