Page 56 of Beguiled By the Highlander
“My brother knows some lowlifes. I’ll see if I can get any information from him about suspected MacGregor spies. I won’t tell him why.”
Hugh didn’t elaborate, but William understood. Douglas, Hugh’s older brother, might have the ability to charm his way out of all the trouble he’d landed in over the years, but he was also a drunkard. They’d learned not to trust him with secrets when they’d been lads, since Douglas had a loose tongue when in his cups.
Robert Fletcher, one of the men he’d sailed with, met them at the stables. “William, are ye in any need of extra hands about the estate? I and a couple of the men could do with the work.”
It wasn’t an unusual request. The Fletchers had pledged their loyalty to Campbells long ago, and since becoming laird of Creagdoun, he’d often enlisted the services of Robert and some of the other men and was grateful for it.
But now, suspicion gnawed through his mind. Did Robert have an ulterior motive for staying at Creagdoun?
Keep yer enemies close.
It was ancient advice, but no less sage for that. Even if the prospect that it was Robert who was the traitor turned his guts.
He managed to keep his face impassive as he gripped Robert’s shoulder. “That’d be grand. There’s plenty to be done, now my bride is here.”
But there was no way anyone was getting close to her. She’d remain within the castle walls, protected by him and the men she’d brought with her from Eigg, until he’d flushed out the traitor and justice had been served.
It took far longer than an hour to ensure his presence was noted about the estate and in the village, and it was already dark by the time he and Hugh returned to the castle. As always when he saw Creagdoun, gut-deep satisfaction gripped him at what he’d achieved through his own prowess in battle. But for the first time, his hard-won pride was a secondary consideration as anticipation pounded through his blood at the prospect of finally claiming his bride.
It wasn’t until after supper, and Isolde had retired, that it struck him there was, in fact, one inconvenience in having them share a bedchamber.
He had nowhere to bathe. And while the prospect of bathing while Isolde washed his back was more than enticing, he had the feeling if he suggested such a thing to her, she might well push his head under the water until he all but drowned.
Besides, just before she’d left the hall, he’d heard her instruct the maids to ensure hot water was sent to the chamber for her own use.
He barely managed to swallow a groan, as the image of her sinking into a tub of scented water invaded his mind and he was halfway to the stairs before he realized what he was doing.
With a silent curse he swung about. He’d use the solar. Maybe a lukewarm bath would cool his ardor for long enough until his bride was ready for him.
*
William sucked ina deep breath as he stood outside the door to the bedchamber he now shared with his wife. There was nothing stopping him from simply entering. He knew she was alone. And waiting for him.
Why then did he hesitate?
But he knew why. It was because as soon as she’d discovered his heritage, Isolde hadn’t wanted this marriage. And although he was confident that by the morning she’d be as invested as he was in their alliance, the truth was he didn’t want to face her antagonism when he opened the door.
Not tonight, their belated wedding night.
But she’d wanted him well enough that night in Eigg. And that was the woman he wanted in his arms.
The woman he needed.
He rapped on the door before pushing it open. Isolde stood before the hearth in a simple shift, her hair tumbling over her shoulders in fiery waves, as the glow from the flames surrounded her in a halo of gold.
His mouth dried and blood thundered in his veins. She was a vision. And she was his.
He kicked the door shut and strode across the chamber to her. She pulled her shawl more securely across her breasts as he halted in front of her and drank in the sight of how her eyes glittered like emeralds in the firelight.
“I’ve dreamed of this.” His voice was hushed, as though she might vanish if he spoke any louder. “Yet ye’re more exquisite than I imagined.”
She smiled and shook her head in mock disapproval. “There’s no need for such flattery when ye’ve already caught me.”
He wound one of her damp curls around his finger. Her hair was soft like silk, an irresistible caress against his skin. “’Tis not flattery when it’s the truth.”
“Well, tis not the first time ye’ve seen me in such a state of undress. Am I more exquisite now than I was before?”
“Aye. Because tonight I shall not be holding back.”
