Page 50 of Beguiled By the Highlander
“Apologies.” He cast a furtive glance around, as though ensuring no one was close enough to hear their conversation, and although there was nothing funny about it, she had another mad desire to laugh. And then his gaze caught hers, and the laughter dried in her throat at the raw need that glowed in his eyes. “It appears we’re destined to consummate our union at Creagdoun after all.”
*
Isolde didn’t wantto be impressed by anything connected to Clan Campbell, but the first sight of Dunstrunage Castle was, without doubt, breathtaking. Set on its own peninsula in the Firth of Lorn, the mighty towers of the castle were protected from any attack by land or sea by a formidable curtain wall.
As they went through the gatehouse, she stole a sideways glance at William, who had ridden by her side for the length of the journey. She’d always known, deep in her heart, he was of noble blood. And so he was. What a pity that blood was Campbell.
William had sent a messenger ahead of them, and a party greeted them in the courtyard. He helped her from her horse and held her hand as he led her to an older man who, judging byhis bearing and uncanny likeness to William, could only be the baron.
“Sir,” William said, bowing his head, before he introduced her. Bruce Campbell, Baron of Dunstrunage, smiled at her, clearly well satisfied by events, and she offered him a chilly smile in response.
“Lady Isolde,” he said. “May I welcome ye to the family. How like yer mother ye are.”
Startled by his greeting, which was nothing like she’d imagined, she glanced at William. But he appeared as taken aback as herself by his father’s remark.
“Did ye know my mother, my lord?” she enquired, as she allowed him to take her hand and press a kiss against her knuckles.
“Aye.” He released her hand. “A long time ago.” He turned to a youth by his side, who looked to be seventeen or so. “My youngest son, James. And my daughter, Margaret.” He smiled indulgently at the girl, who looked no more than twelve.
How remiss of her not to have known William had a younger brother and sister. But then, he had never mentioned them. Not even when he’d so wondrously regained his memories.
The reminder of how he’d tricked her smarted, and she hastily forced that memory to the back of her mind. She would not disgrace her foremothers by displaying bad manners to these Campbells.
After James and Margaret greeted her, the baron led them inside to the great hall. Surreptitiously, she admired the fine tapestries on the walls, and the grand stone-carved fireplace. It was obvious William’s family not only possessed noble blood but also great wealth.
For the first time she wondered about Creagdoun. Sgur Castle was her home, and while she loved it with every particle of her being, there was no denying it was a constant battle to keepthe roof from leaking, and their many tapestries, while exquisite, were over two hundred years old.
The tapestries displayed here, particularly one of a magnificent hunt incorporating the mythical unicorn, looked astonishingly new.
But then, it wasn’t the wealth of the MacDonalds of Sgur the Campbells coveted. It was their land, and the gateway it gave to the Western Isles.
“We’ll have dinner shortly,” the baron said. “And ye will doubtless stay the night. It was a great relief, my lady,” he added, glancing at her, “to discover my son hadn’t perished in the storm.”
“Indeed,” she said, inclining her head. Did the baron know William had woven a tale of deception around her? Or not?
In the end, it scarcely mattered, since the outcome was exactly what he and her grandmother had plotted all those years ago.
Patric came to her, holding Sjor’s basket. Warily, she eyed the large deerhound that stood beside the baron. The baron scratched the dog’s head and nodded at her darling lad.
“He’ll be safe, my lady, no fear of that.”
Relieved, she released Sjor, and the two dogs sniffed each other with mutual curiosity.
“Sir,” William said. “My bride needs time to refresh herself after the sea crossing. Might I take her to her chamber?”
“I’ll take Lady Isolde.” Margaret stepped forward, and the baron laughed.
“Aye, Margaret will do the honors as the lady of the castle.” He gave her hair an affectionate ruffle, and the girl gave a long-suffering sigh.
It was clear that, when it came to his daughter, at least, the baron wasn’t an ogre. Which was disconcerting, to say the least.During the last ten years, she’d built a picture of him in her mind, and being a caring father had not been on her list.
“This way, my lady.” Margaret glanced over her shoulder at William. “’Tis yer old chamber, since that is the second-best in the castle.”
Isolde followed Margaret up the spiral staircase, taking an odd comfort in how the stone steps were worn away through centuries of use. It reminded her of home.
Margaret opened a door and stood back to allow her to enter the chamber. William followed her, and Patric and Emer remained by the door.
“’Tis beautiful.” Isolde tried not to stare at the sumptuous four poster bed, but it was impossible. She’d never seen such a beautiful thing before, although she’d heard many rumors of their splendor.
