There were many rumours about why no one saw her during the daylight hours. Nikolai’s curse had forced her to become an outcast in her own village.
“They’re simple folk, with nary an ounce of sense between them.” Douglas frowned. “But I fear someone is feeding their weird notions. Someone is filling their weak heads with nonsense.”
Only one person had a strong enough grievance to cause her any trouble. Only one person was respected enough to give credence to the tales.
Lachlan Carrick.
“Malmuirie said Lachlan has come home.” It took a tremendous effort to let his name fall from her lips. “I’ll warrant he’s not got a pretty word to say about me.”
Douglas glanced up at the ceiling and sighed. “Aye, but Lachlan is a man of honour. He would not embroil himself in village tittle-tattle. If yer maid says otherwise, then I’ll see her crawl the length of Artney Glen.”
“Malmuirie said he is not the same since he left.” Isla had been promised to Lachlan since birth. The laird’s eldest son had made no secret of the fact he regarded her marriage to Nikolai as betrayal. “She said he has a heart of stone. She said he no longer has any respect for women.”
Malmuirie had painted a vivid picture of a scoundrel and debaucher. Apparently, there were ladies in Edinburgh who had no care for their virtue. There were widows who wanted a strong, virile man to warm their bed, nothing more. The image of soft hands trailing over Lachlan’s broad chest caused jealousy to slither through her body.
“As I dinnae wear a dress, I cannot say.” Douglas smiled. “Does such a thought bother ye, lass? Do ye still hold a torch for Lachlan?”
Isla made an odd puffing sound. “While our fathers may have had different ideas, I’ve only ever thought of him as a friend.”
Douglas folded his arms across his chest. “As a friend ye say? So you’ve never locked lips with him on the banks of the burn?”
Isla’s cheeks flamed. She thrust her hands on her hips and straightened her spine. “Did Malmuirie tell you that?”
“No, lass. But yer father often asked me to keep an eye on ye.”
The memory of the summer afternoon flooded her mind. The sun had been high, the rays bright. The water from the stream had played its own trickling melody. She had stared into Lachlan’s piercing blue eyes, put her trembling hand to his cheek. As their innocent mouths touched softly, she knew then that there would never be another man for her and her heart had raced at the prospect of becoming his wife.
“Then you would have seen the man took liberties.” Lies were easier to live with than the truth. “You would have witnessed my indifference to his amorous advances.”
Douglas smirked. “Aye, if ye say so. Though I—”
The sound of Malmuirie’s irate voice echoed from the hallway beyond the solid oak door. Douglas moved to stand at Isla’s side as she contemplated walking over to investigate. When the door suddenly flew open, she put her hand to her chest, gulped and tried to catch her breath.
“Forgive me.” Malmuirie scurried into the Great Hall accompanied by Lachlan Carrick. “I’ve told him you don’t receive visitors.”
“Visitors?” Lachlan snorted. “Surely your mistress will welcome an old friend.”
Isla blinked rapidly to clear her vision. The man before her looked vastly different from the man she had said goodbye to some three years earlier. He had lost the naive, boyish charm. Now his blue eyes were cold, his hard jaw less forgiving. The dark brown hair brushing his brow was not as wild and untamed as she remembered. He’d discarded his kilt for a pair of breeks, had covered his muscular arms with a blue coat cut in a fashionable English style.
Douglas stepped forward; the men shook hands, patted each other on the upper arm.
“What brings ye to Castle Craig at this late hour?” Douglas’ friendly tone held no hint of suspicion, but Isla suspected it was not a coincidence.
Lachlan’s contemptuous gaze drifted over her. “I would come at a respectable hour, but I hear your mistress favours doing business in the dark.”
“Do they not have manners in Edinburgh, Lachlan?” She would not be intimidated by his veiled insults. “Do they not see fit to offer a greeting when they barge into people’s homes?”
He stepped forward and inclined his head. “Miss Maclean. I bid you good evening.”
Isla narrowed her gaze. “I have not been Miss Maclean for three years. Or had you forgotten?” In truth, everyone still called her by her birth name. There were some, particularly Douglas, who still questioned the validity of her marriage to Nikolai.
The muscle in Lachlan’s cheek twitched. “No. I have not forgotten.”
“Wel
l, perhaps you have forgotten that there’s no longer a law preventing you from wearing the clothes of your clansmen.” She waved her hand at his stuffy attire. “Or is this what appeals to the ladies in Edinburgh.”
A low growl emanated from the back of his throat. “You were not so concerned about the habits of your countrymen when you married a foreigner.”