Rogue Highlander: Surrendered Love

by Sondra Grey

  She waited. It was all she could do. He seemed to be watching her, waiting for something, but she wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do. Finally, he said, “Do you know anything of mythology? The Greeks?”

  Isla shook her head, once. She didn’t know what he was talking about.

  “They have a story about a woman named Medea. You’ve not heard it?”

  Isla shook her head again, perplexed.

  “There are many stories of Medea. But I’ll pick up her story in the middle, where she arrives in Athens and beguiles the King, Aegeus. She tells him all sorts of tales about her past, wins his sympathy, and they eventually marry and have a son.”

  Calum stopped talking abruptly, staring at Isla’s belly where it rounded outward. Isla found herself clutching her hands in front of her stomach.

  “He spends years with her, not knowing who she is, not knowing the truth about her…”

  Isla’s mouth went dry.

  “And then one day a young man arrives. It’s Aegeus long lost son, come to claim his father’s throne. And when Medea tries to have him killed, he knows her, and unveils her for what she is: A witch.”

  Isla felt the blood leave her face, black spots erupted before her vision and the next thing she knew she was being squeezed, painfully. And then the floor was beneath her, Calum grasping her shoulders hard enough to bruise, staring into her face with an intensity she’d never seen from him before.

  “Calum,” his name was a whisper on her tongue, her senses came back to her enough for her to realize she’d nearly blacked out. Calum must have caught her, and now he was hovering over her, waiting, holding her steady until it was clear that she would be fine on her own. Then he released her arms, and she fell back on them, the floor hard beneath her. He crouched nearby, balanced on the balls of his feet, staring at her as if waiting for something. But Isla had no words.

  Calum shook his head. “A witch,” he said, and she realized he was continuing his terrible story. “A witch and a murderess. Who’d been chased from Corinth by the villagers. She’d lied to Aegeus, tricked him into marrying her so that her son would inherit the thrown of Athens.”

  Isla licked her lips, knowing she had to speak. A dozen responses flew through her head, a dozen apologies, pleas for forgiveness. But on its heels, swiftly, was anger. That familiar, boiling rage. Witch? Murderess!?

  “Dundur is hardly a kingdom.”

  Calum blinked.

  “And if you’re comparing that…that…RAT William Graham to a PRINCE!!!”

  Her voice rose and Calum swore and stood. Isla struggled to gain her feet. “And compare yourself to a King!! A poor pitiable KING!!!”

  He hauled her up and clapped a hot hand over her mouth, his dark eyes boring into hers with something akin to panic.

  “Quiet!” he hissed. “Do you want the whole castle to hear!?”

  Isla fumed beneath his hand, and when he let it go she hissed at him. “They know already! William Graham has a maw like a gull’s. He can’t seem to close it.”

  Calum stared at her, black brows raised in incredulity. Isla stared back at him, squaring her fists on her hips in challenge. “Is that what you think, Calum? Do you think I’m a witch? That I’ve beguiled you? Do you still think I planned all of this?”

  Calum swore and swung away from her, raking a hand through his dark hair until it stood out from his head. “No,” he said, suddenly, turning around. He looked intense. “But you lied to me.”

  “I lied about my name. I didn’t lie about anything else.”

  “You omitted the truth. And you’ve put me in a terrible position.”

  Isla glared at him.

  “I’ll have the truth, Isla. And I’ll have all of it.”

  “Why?” she said. “You’ve made up your mind about me already. I can see it. You said it. Witch. Murderess.”

  He stared at her, hard. Isla felt like she was crumbling inside. He thought her a murderess. The man who held her at night, who made her feel things no other person had ever made her feel, the man who was supposed to keep her safe…

  “I’ll have the truth,” he said.

  Isla stared at him, her aunt’s voice ringing in her ears. I don’t advise keeping secrets from your husband…

  “What will you do at the end of it?” she asked, softly. “Will you believe William? Will you cast me aside? Will you chase me from Dundur?”

  Calum strode up so fast that Isla nearly tripped over herself to back away, but his hands were on her shoulders. He squeezed her hard and shook her once. “Isla, you’re my wife. You’re carrying my child. I’m trying to protect you! But if you don’t tell me what’s wrong…”

  He cursed and let her go, striding away. Then he whirled. “Christ! I would never have allowed the Stewart’s here if I’d thought it might put you in danger and now the whole castle…”

  He stopped and took a deep breath. “Isla, I cannot help you, I cannot set this right, if I don’t know the truth.”

  Isla stood there, breathing hard. He would not cast her aside? He would not chase her out? She moved past him to sit at the chair before his desk, and he moved with her, perching atop the desk’s scarred edge, staring at her intently. “The truth.”

  And so Isla told him. She started at the beginning, with her mother leaving castle Huntly as a girl. She told him about her mother and father, who they were to the Stewart, how she’d grown up in Elleric. She told him about healing the sick, about her father’s death and then her mother’s. She told him about spurning William Graham, and her engagement with Gavin Stewart, about the sickness that spread through Elleric and claimed Gavin’s brother.

  “I’m sure now, that it was William spreading the tales,” she said, feeling cold. “You should have seen his face when he saw me in the courtyard and mistook me for a whore, he was so delighted. His was the last face I saw in Elleric. He tripped me, as they threw stones…”

  Calum’s expression was unreadable.

  “I didn’t tell you what happened. They’d have tried me and hung me in the square. They might have brought the tale to The Stewart himself, and I’d no notion if you were friendly with him, if he’d come to you looking for the runaway witch…”

  Calum shook his head. “No. Robert Stewart is no superstitious man.”

  “But how was I to know? How was I to know you didn’t believe in witches? I wasn’t going to reveal my name, lest word had spread that Isla from Elleric was a witch and needed to be captured and tried! Please understand that I wanted to tell you before we wed – but…” No, no good blaming her uncle. They were allies now. “But I was afraid. And I wanted to tell you when the Stewarts came…”

  “It doesn’t matter,” he said, heavily. He stood and walked over to the window, staring down towards where the gatehouse stood. “William Graham. He was the one standing outside the stables the other night? The one with the…” he trailed off, waving a hand absently around his nose to indicate William’s freckles. Isla nodded.

  “I doubt he’s said anything to Rob Stewart. I don’t think the man would take kindly to having one of his clansmen undermining negotiations. That being said, I can’t be certain that Rob Stewart isn’t aware of this…”

  He cast a sharp eye on Isla. “Would he know you by sight? The Stewart?”

  “I was in his castle often as a girl,” said Isla. “My father was one of his father’s tacksmen, but I don’t think he’d remember me on sight. Unless William reminded him, or there are other men from Elleric traveling with him.”

  Calum shook his head. “He’s not superstitious. Unless the villagers were threatening riot, he’d not hunt you down. But he’s looking for a foothold in these treaties. I’m not going to guess at whether he’d use information like this against me.”

  He didn’t seem to be talking to Isla. In fact, he didn’t seem to notice she was there. He walked out of the room suddenly, heading into his bedroom.

  Isla waited a moment, and when he didn’t come back she followed, only to find him
standing over his father’s chess set, staring at the worn wooden pieces, frowning deeply.

  “What is it?” she asked. His silence was worrying. What would he do with her? For it was clear that his mind was not on her, not on their child, but on his negotiations.

  He didn’t seem to hear her and continued to stare at the pieces. Finally, he reached down, his fingers caressing one of them. Isla couldn’t tell which piece from where she stood.

  “Calum?” He looked back up at her, and he looked grim.

  “We’ll have to play this carefully,” he said. “I’ve no notion what the Stewart’s position is. Much as I’d like to challenge him outright and strangle the very life from William Graham, I cannot.”

  He strode up to her, but didn’t touch her. “Isla. You’ll go to my sister’s home. The Campbells are thick with clan and can protect you from any word that might now be spreading through the hills.”

  “I don’t wish to be carted around the highlands like a runaway…”

  He leaned down and gripped her chin. “You’ve no notion of how this works. These clans and their Chief’s and chieftains are volatile and proud. One insult to them and they draw their swords. You think your uncle was bluffing when he declared war on me? Oh no. The Gordon’s would love to have a foothold in the hills. And he’d make no moves against The Grant himself, but against a Grant chieftain? Who impregnated his niece? His actions would have been justified, and the Red Bard would have to offer an apology and allow him to keep my lands as his. And if Rob Stewart decides I’ve accused him unjustly, he will challenge me as well. And into battle will go the Grants, the Campbells, the Gordons, and the MacLeods... So, until I know whether or not accusations against my wife are a Stewart ploy, or simply the work of a jealous suitor, you’ll do as I bid.”

  “Then send me back to Rhona. I’d rather stay with her than…”

  “The ride to Maire’s is but a few hours, I can send you with Hugh and Geordie and you’ll be riding through friendly lands the whole time. No. You’ll go to Maire’s. I’ll have Efric and Leona come help you pack.”

  He whirled away and strode towards the door only to stop, spin back and approach again.

  “You’ll do as Maire bids you, too. No wandering into the nearby villages, no putting yourself or the baby in any unnecessary danger…

  “The baby is in no danger if I go visit a sick crofter…”

  He clasped her shoulders, halting her speech. “Isla,” he said, his voice soft. “Don’t disobey me in this. Please. Rumors of witchcraft will follow you. And I’ve no time now to address them. Stay there until I get back, and we will set everything to rights. I promise.”

  Isla closed her eyes, inhaling. Once again, everything was spinning out of her control. At least in Elleric, when she’d been accused, she could run, she could choose her own path. Now, she was being accused again, and this time she was in a position of power – and still could do nothing against the accusations. She could not stand up and defend herself. She could not stick a knife into William Graham. She was being sent away. She wanted control back. She wanted to rage at Calum – but he was right, she knew. He’d been working himself to the bone on behalf of these treaties and now, because she was not honest with him from the first, he was in a terribly tenuous position.

  “Promise me you’ll stay with Maire. I’ve no idea how widely William Graham has spread word of you, and while you’re safe enough with my sister, there’s no telling how safe you’ll be in the surrounding towns.”

  Isla was too upset to say anything and so she nodded. “There’s a lass,” said Calum, but he stepped back rather than kiss her. A wave of distress rolled through Isla and she stepped forward to touch him, but he was already turning from the door.

  “Stay here until I send Hugh for you,” he said over his shoulder. “I’ll distract the Stewarts so it’s safe for you to leave.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  T hough the ride to the Campbell’s home was only a few hours, it was the most uncomfortable ride Isla had ever been on. Hugh and Geordie were mute, and Isla found she didn’t know what to say to them. Besides that, riding a horse while five months pregnant was no easy feat.

  When they finally arrived at the Campbell’s it was to learn that Lord Campbell was away visiting relatives in the North, and that the Lady Campbell was in Inverness with Mrs. Allan, but would return in a day or so.

  Hugh took charge from the steward and had the housekeeper arrange a guest room for Isla. He showed her around the castle which was of comparable size to Dundur, but slightly more elegant in trapping. Hugh introduced Isla to his sisters, both under the age of twelve and who – like Hugh – were dark, quiet, and watchful. The castle wasn’t nearly as full as Dundur had seemed, and Hugh explained that most of the clansmen travelled with his father. The absence of the Campbells suited Isla just fine. She was tired and didn’t wish to speak to anyone. She was miserable over the way she and Calum had parted, and had been second guessing herself during the entire ride. She was grateful that she could retire to a quiet room and sleep.

  Lady Campbell came back midday the next day and entered her own home with the same volume and presence with which she’d entered Dundur castle.

  “A sister in law!” the lady boomed, and when Isla emerged from the small library through which she’d been wandering, Maire threw her meaty arms around her and gave her a large, and smacking kiss on the cheek.

  No one had told Maire about the pregnancy, it seemed. And the woman spent a good two hours gawping over the size of Isla’s belly and speculating, loudly, about how far along she was and about the reasons her brother had wed her so quickly.

  “Not that I mind,” said Maire, tugging Isla towards the castle gardens. She was content to show Isla about again, even if Hugh had done it last night.

  “Calum has needed a woman for a good long while now, and he needs a few children to spoil. He has taken on too many responsibilities recently. He needs to remember that he’s a man, not just a chieftain. It’s good he’s someone to ease him. Especially a tall, pretty lass like you! A heart healer!” She laughed at her own alliteration.

  “I don’t think I’ve been any help to his heart,” said Isla, feeling overwhelmed and chilly, for Maire had dragged her outside without a cloak, and it was well past harvest season. Maire didn’t seem to mind the cold, and strode through what was surely a magnificent garden in the spring and summertime. Trees, nearly bare of their foliage, lined an immaculate but browning lawn. The castle had been built on a hill and from the edge of the fading gardens you could see the cold and grey North Sea,

  “He’s a tough nut to crack, our wee Calum,” said Maire, sounding sympathetic, though her volume remained high. “But you’ve a special talent at healing, Isla. I’ve seen your work first hand on my boy. I’m sure you can heal my brother.”

  Isla didn’t respond, and it was her silence that caused Maire to stop walking, to look over at her with curiosity.

  “What it is, then?” she asked, squaring off and putting her hands on her hips. “What’s wrong between you and my brother?”

  Isla shrugged helplessly, unsure of what truths to tell Maire Campbell and what to keep secret. Who knew what Calum had written in the letter Hugh had given his mother?

  With a gaze as keen as her brother’s, Maire assessed Isla’s silence and said, voice slightly softer. “He wrote and said, simply, that there was too much hubbub at the castle. That you were having a hard time with your pregnancy and you needed rest and peace. Is that not the truth of it?”

  Isla shrugged, helplessly, wondering what to offer Maire. “He’s very closed off,” she said, finally. “He demands truth and honesty from me, and gives me little in return. I don’t think he wanted to marry me at all…”

  “What nonsense,” said Maire. “I saw the way he looked at you. Like you were a bucket of water and he was a man dying of thirst…”

  “All the same,” said Isla, not believing that for a moment. “We just don’t seem to, we don’t
seem to…” She was at a loss for words, unable to express that, while she and Calum were more than a match physically, she was no match for him in other ways. She was not well educated; she could not do the jobs he needed her to do. He was ashamed of her. While he roamed the Highlands, securing peace and meeting with great clan chiefs and chieftains, she stayed home and butchered menus, picked out ugly drapes, forbidden from doing the one thing in life that gave her any real sense of purpose.

  Maire pursed her lips and folded her arms over her heavy breasts, as though trying to read into Isla’s struggle for words. Finally she nodded. “It’s hard to heal something when you don’t know what ails it, eh?”

  Isla shrugged, helpless. “I suppose that’s part of it,” she allowed.

  Maire rolled her eyes. “Let me tell you something about my brother,” she said. “In many ways, he was a lot like our father. He was stubborn and determined. He was tall, lean, and talented – smart and strong, a quick learner with a quick mind. But our father was naturally a dour and impatient man, and Calum was a fun and mischievous boy who ran afoul of my father more times than I can count… Our brother, on the other hand, was smaller, biddable, and more eager to please. Our father doted on Graeme, and – I think – blamed Calum somehow, for the death of our mother – as if his was the birth that weakened her. Our father kept Graeme close, and sent Calum to foster at the Red Bard’s keep. And when Calum came home, our father did nothing but berate him. When Graeme died…”

  Maire shook her head. “Imagine living your entire life to please someone who can’t be pleased. Calum was caught in the middle – he was so sure of himself, and he pushed himself so hard to be the best. The best swordsman, the best student… but it was never enough for our father. And when Graeme died on the battle-field, when our father disowned Calum, when his fiancé married another man… You know how Calum gained the clan back?”

  Isla nodded.

  “Well, such a thing might have caused a war. But the clan trusted Calum, trusted that he was not our father. That he would do his best by them. He has given his life to them, since. It’s as if he’s still trying to prove to our father that he’s worthy. As if the old man is still watching.”