Page 62 of Beguiled By the Highlander
“Maybe.” Not that she sounded convinced, but the fact she’d even admitted the possibility that she was wrong was, he acknowledged, progress.
He cast her a sideways glance as they made their way into the hall. He’d been so sure everything would fall into place onceIsolde was his bride. That she’d return, unquestioningly, to the trusting lass he’d lost his head over when he’d simply been her stranger from the sea.
The last thing he’d expected was that he’d still need to prove himself worthy of her. It seemed there was a lot more to married life than he’d blithely presumed.
Chapter Nineteen
They had beenwed for two weeks, and after they finished breakfast, and William held her hand as she rose from her chair, Isolde had to admit he was a most attentive husband. And not just in the bedchamber.
As always when she thought of their bedchamber, she recalled their bed sport and warmth suffused her. He smiled, as though he could read her mind, and while she fervently hoped he couldn’t, she smiled back.
After their confrontation, she’d been forced to face the accusation she’d flung at him, and with every day that passed, it became harder to believe he had lied to her during the days they’d shared on Eigg.
But if that was the case, it meant William’s life truly was in danger. And that was something she didn’t want to contemplate.
“The earl is seeing me today,” he reminded her as they made their way to the solar. He’d mentioned last night at supper he had received a summons from the Earl of Argyll, and she inclined her head in response. The invitation didn’t include her, but as William had told her last night, the visit wasn’t for social purposes.
“Will ye be back later?” She hoped so, although she also hoped her eagerness didn’t show in her voice. It was all very well enjoying the delights of the marital bed, but she still wasn’t comfortable with him knowing just how much she’d miss him if he didn’t return this night.
He leaned in close, so his lips brushed her ear. How could such a featherlight touch cause such havoc to her senses?
“Queen Mary herself couldn’t keep me away from ye for a single night, mo chridhe.”
She didn’t much care for the queen, but as always, his endearment melted her heart.
“That’s good to know.”
He opened the door to the solar, and as she entered the chamber a suffocating vice squeezed inside her breast. Every morning, William brought her here, where she would start on the tasks of overseeing the castle’s daily requirements. During the last few days, she’d had the new tapestry and her rug moved into the master bedchamber and supervised the unpacking of the trunks of goods she had brought with her from Sgur.
Superficially at least, the castle was starting to feel a little more familiar.
She had also inspected the larders and checked the winter stocks, and this morning she planned on evaluating the kitchen gardens.
None of her duties were the cause of why that relentless curl of panic simmered just below the surface. It was because William had still not relented on the order that he’d issued the day after they had arrived at Creagdoun, that she was not permitted to set foot outside the castle walls.
It still stung. Even if he thought he was doing it to keep her safe.
“William.” She spun around and took his hands. Surely, she could make him see sense. There hadn’t been a hint of danger since he’d brought her to Creagdoun. “I should like to ride today. My men can accompany me, so there will be no risk.”
“No.” His voice was hard and brooked no argument, and all her soft, kindly thoughts of him evaporated like steam from a boiling pot.
“No?” Her voice was sharp, and she dropped his hands as though they were burning logs. “Is that it? No discussion?”
“There’s nothing to discuss, Isolde.” He shut the door, before returning to her. “Until the danger is passed, I cannot allow ye to wander the countryside. Anything could happen to ye.”
“I didn’t ask to go alone.” God only knew how she kept her voice so calm, when resentment churned within her breast. She had never needed to ask permission from her grandmother when she wanted to escape Sgur Castle. She had been her own mistress, and responsible for her own actions. Yet now she was wed, she was treated like a serf. “Ye know Patric would never allow me to go anywhere unaccompanied.”
“I’ll speak to Patric and ensure he’s aware ye’re not to go riding. I can’t protect ye if ye’re not within the castle’s walls.”
She sucked in a sharp breath, affronted to the core of her being. “Patric is not yer man. Ye can’t issue orders to him.”
“Patric answers to me. Ye will not go riding, Isolde.”
Speechless, she glared at him. Could he have made it any plainer just how little he valued her opinion? But she would not be defeated so easily.
“Ye forget yerself. The wedding contract plainly states Patric and the men remain within my jurisdiction.”
“Aye. And ye forget that while ye retain all yer worldly goods and attendants, ye’re my wife, and as such the final word rests with me.”
