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  Rogue Highlander

  Surrendered Love

  BOOK II

  By: Sondra Grey

  Table of Contents

  Surrendered Love

  Love on the Range

  Rogue Highlander

  Surrendered Love

  CHAPTER ONE

  T he ride to Huntly was the tensest two hours of Isla’s life. The Earl had sent his carriage, and the whole family rode together. Gair sat next to Isla and held her hand, a silent steady presence. Rhona was quiet too, but visibly seethed and, every so often, would murmur something beneath her breath about murder and mauling.

  As they neared the castle and Rhona mentioned something about castration, Isla’s uncle cleared his throat and clutched her hand in his. “Now listen all of you,” he said, sounding more irritated than Isla had ever heard him. “Everyone needs to calm themselves. Rhona you’ll leave the Laird of Dundur’s bollock’s intact. Isla, you’ll stop looking so guilty, as you are hardly the bearer of all of the blame. And you,” he looked at his son, pinning him with a curious gaze. “Try to look as intimidating as you can. She’s not got brothers, though I’m sure the Gordon’s sons will be standing by her. It’d do to have you look a bit nastier.”

  Isla let out a small laugh. Gair was tall, like his mother, and good looking, but didn’t have Calum’s presence. There was something earnest and trustful about her cousin that didn’t quite lend itself to the image of a violent man.

  As the carriage pulled up to the front of Huntly castle, Isla stared. There were a few Grant Clansmen milling about the ground, but there were other tartans visible too. “The Macleod’s,” said Rhona, perplexed. She turned to her husband. “What on earth are they doing here?”

  Isla’s uncle merely nodded, “The Earl has declared war on the Grants, sending Calum a private letter that accused him of impregnating his niece. I’m sure the Grant laird brought a Macleod ally to bear witness to the charges. There’s not enough men here to do battle, Rhona.”

  But there were enough men to witness a wedding. Isla swore to herself. There was no way she was going to marry Calum Grant – but she’d need to be wary of how she broached that topic, especially now that the Macleod’s were here.

  As they strode from the carriage and into the great hall, a clansman directed them up the stairs and to the Earl’s study. To Isla’s dismay there were at least ten Grant’s and Macleod’s waiting outside the study door. As Isla came into view they gawped at her. Isla had to force herself to square her shoulders and meet their eyes. She expected to see loathing, alongside surprise, but there was only confusion. Did Calum not know then, that it was she for whom the Gordon had declared war? Oh God! What had the Earl sent in his message? Did Calum not expect her?

  It was all she could do to nod at the Grants, taking comfort in the fact that – in her fine clothes, with her hair twisted up in the silver combs, she looked a good deal more regal than she had at Dundur. Rhona had given Isla her grandmother’s beautiful silver and sapphire necklace to match her eyes, and the combs in her hair. “No one in their right minds would say no to a vision like you,” her aunt had declared.

  The nearer they came to the Earl’s study, the louder the voices seem to rise. The oak of the door was thick, and the words being shouted were muffled. But Isla’s stomach dropped when she heard Calum’s deep rumble raised in a near shout.

  One of the Earl’s sons, Christopher, Isla thought distractedly, held open the door as they approached and the sound carried out into the hall.

  “For the tenth time, old man, I’ve never met your niece…”

  The office was as elegant as the rest of the castle, with a beautiful woven rug, rich burgundy drapes, and silver sconces and candelabrum decorating the walls. The room was a large one, but the three elegantly dressed highland noblemen, had managed to fill it with tension. Calum’s back was to them, and he was standing in front of The Earl’s enormous, mahogany desk with his hands fisted at his hips. Several high-backed wooden chairs had been pushed aside so that only the desk separated the two men. Leith Macleod, standing near the door, was the first to see them. He met Isla’s gaze blinked at a moment, quizzically, before understanding began to dawn. He opened his mouth, but whatever he was going to say was lost as Calum whipped around to see who’d opened the door.

  He stopped shouting. Isla saw the words die on his tongue, his brows drew low for a confused moment, and then his eyes widened impossibly. Isla had never seen anyone turn quite so pale, and for a moment she thought he might faint.

  So, no one had warned him that the Earl’s niece was the healer he’d known at Dundur. Isla felt sick.

  “Never met her, eh?” said the Earl, who seemed pleased with Calum’s speechlessness. “Not sure how much I believe that now. Isla, lass, I believe you’ve already met the Laird of Dundur. Have you met Leith Macleod?”

  “We met at Dundur, yes.” Isla’s mind was fraught with conflict and anxiety; emotions she couldn’t name were swirling with such intensity that she heard herself responding almost as if from a distance.

  “Rhona, Tom, Gair,” the Earl’s delighted smile seemed terribly at odds with the tension in the room. “May I introduce you to Leith Macleod, The Macleod’s son, and Calum Grant, Laird of Dundur, who appears speechless in the face of my niece’s beauty. As he should be.” The Earl nodded, and Isla noticed that Calum was getting his color back, and his face was darkening by the second.

  Gesturing broadly, the Earl introduced Rhona, Tom, and Gair with such formality that Calum was forced to bow to them all. Isla snuck a glance at Rhona, who seemed about as interested in Calum and she would be with lint on the hem of her gown.

  “So, Dundur,” said the Earl. The introduction had given the laird the necessary time to compose himself. Calum now looked resolute, jaw firmed, eyes hard. There was a glint in them that Isla couldn’t decipher. “Do you know my niece?” The question was rhetorical. It was clear to everyone in the room that they knew each other. The Earl looked as if he were having fun.

  “I do know your niece,” said Calum, and he sounded strange, almost choked. He cleared his throat, “Although when I knew her she called herself Thomasina and claimed to be a healer, not an Earl’s niece.”

  “No claiming, boy. She is a healer, but she is also my niece.”

  Calum’s eyes were riveted on Isla, boring into her with an intensity she could not understand. What was he thinking? She wished she could read his expression. “Yes. Your niece stayed in my castle just under three weeks’ time. I know her.” He looked like he would say more but paused.

  “Calum,” murmured Leith. Isla looked over to him. He looked bemused and glanced at her questioningly – as if inviting her to speak. But Isla had no notion of what she might say, and so she stayed silent.

  Calum took a deep breath. “Let us clear the air,” he said, firmly. Turning to Isla, he glanced at her one more time, as if checking to see if she were real. Then he turned back to the Earl.

  “My Lord,” said Calum. “I brought Leith here to see to this charge, as I’ve been recently engaged to his sister, and wished to assure him of my innocence. I believed myself innocent of the crime you lodged against me, not knowing that your niece was...” he seemed to fumble for her name a moment and then said, slo
wly, “Isla.”

  Isla inclined her head. The Earl tapped his finger on the desk.

  “But I am not as innocent as I supposed. Leith,” he turned to his friend who stared at him hard. “Leith, you know Isla. You met her at my castle. What the Earl claims is true, and now she carries my child. I will have to formally withdraw my engagement to your sister and beg that you understand the circumstances that have occurred.”

  Leith glanced at Isla again and then back at Calum. The silence in the room was impossibly loud. Even the Earl looked interested in Leith’s response. He was leaning forward in his chair, keen eyes trained on the Macleod’s scion.

  “Dundur,” said Leith, slowly. “You and I will have to speak further on our arrangements. But I accept your withdrawal of the proposal and will try and find a way to break it delicately to Anne.”

  “Macleod.” The Earl summoned Leith’s attention. “I would that you give Dundur, Isla, and me a moment alone to discuss our own negotiations. I hope you understand that this entire incident is an accident, and that you might enter negotiations with me, as I’ve a solution that might benefit all parties present.”

  Macleod nodded. “I am eager to hear your proposal, Lord Gordon, and I will await your summons elsewhere.”

  With that, Leith strode up to Isla, grabbed her hand, and kissed it. And when he looked up at her, his green eyes were earnest. “Isla,” he said, his voice was low that only those closest could hear, “Had I known such a beautiful woman was niece to The Gordon, you’d have had me at your feet. My mistake, Lady.” His smile was soft, and gave Isla hope that he was not angry enough at the slight to his sister to take it out on Calum. She felt miserable, realizing that she’d just broken up an engagement.

  But maybe you don’t have to, she thought, desperately. You don’t have to marry him. You have a choice! Just tell them what you want.

  She opened her mouth to deny them all, and looked at Calum. The words died on her tongue. He was so beautiful, and staring at her not with anger, but with a strangely intent expression. She shook her head, trying to clear it of sudden, unwelcome thoughts of doubt. But Leith was already striding away, Rhona, Tom, and Gair following him out.

  Then it was only Isla, Calum, and the Earl.

  She needed to speak now before it was too late. She straightened and met the Earl’s inquiring gaze. “Uncle,” she started, “When the Laird of Dundur knew me, I told him my name was Thomasina because…”

  “Well and of course you did,” the Earl interrupted, loudly. “A young woman travelling alone wouldn’t give a stranger her real name. You’re a smart girl.”

  Isla blinked. The Earl was giving her a warning glance. He didn’t want her to tell Calum about Elleric. She wondered what else she wasn’t supposed to reveal and continued hesitantly, “My point is that it was not his fault that he did not know the insult to you. If the Laird had previous arrangements with the MacLeod’s than he should honor those…”

  “Niece,” said the Earl, looking less amused now. “The Laird of Dundur did great injury to Clan Gordon. He kidnapped my beloved niece, held her hostage to his will, despoiled her, and then cast her out. He dishonored you. A Gordon.”

  As he spoke the Earl’s voice rose, grew harder, and Isla realized that, perhaps, the old man was not as amused as he appeared. Perhaps he was as angry as he declared, ready to declare war unless Calum acted.

  “You have my sincerest apologies and my deepest regrets,” said Calum, quickly. “My actions were born of desperation for my own nephew. As to your niece’s innocence,” he cast Isla another unreadable glance. “I take full responsibility for my weakness. She is a rare and beautiful woman, and I sent her home not knowing of the insult to Clan Gordon. Sir, I am not only obliged, but I am deeply honored to wed your niece.”

  His voice was firm, but Isla didn’t believe him for a moment. He wanted peace – that was all. He didn’t want her. And she didn’t want him either. Did she?

  But the Earl seemed convinced, for the anger faded from his face and he stood, clapping his hands together once before saying, “Then I will go get the contracts drawn up. I expect you and Isla have much to speak of.”

  The Earl left the room, casting Isla a sharp look of warning on his way out. She understood it: Do not speak about Elleric, the Stewarts, or even mention the word witch.

  As the door swung closed behind the Earl, silence descended, and Isla found herself unwilling to speak at all. Within her surged a terrible mix of emotions: anger, hurt, frustration, confusion and, worst of all, yearning. Seeing Calum standing there, his hair braided back and tied with a black ribbon, wearing his crispest white shirt, tartan perfectly folded and pinned – he looked powerful, handsome, imposing. In the months they’d been apart she’d forgotten the impact his presence had on her. She had trouble looking away, and her hurt was as fresh now as it had been the day she rode off.

  Calum stared at the floor, one hand on his dirk, the other hand clutching the back of the chair. His muscles were taught and stark against the thin fabric of his shirt. Over two minutes passed before he looked up, finally. His gaze was wary and he straightened, crossed his arms over his chest in a way that made his biceps bulge.

  “Is it true, lass? Is it all true? You’re his niece, and you’re pregnant with my child?”

  That was it? After all that had happened. He doubted her word. Still thought her conniving. She saw red.

  “Isla,” he said.

  “It’s a much better name than Thomasina, in my opinion,” she snapped, defiantly. It was the challenge in his tone that undid her tongue. She would not feel ashamed in front of him.

  Calum’s gaze narrowed further and he took a step forward before stopping himself. He dropped his arms, inhaled heavily through his nose and turned to pace the length of the room, then back. He stopped the same distance away and stared at Isla hard, as if trying to read beyond her words.

  “I’ll have the full story,” Calum said. His voice was low, but there was no anger in it. Instead it held an intensity that she couldn’t quite figure out. It was as if there was something else at stake in her answer. The full story? She couldn’t tell him the full story. In fact, she wasn’t quite sure what she could tell him.

  “You’ll have nothing from me that I do not wish to give.”

  Calum made a frustrated sound deep in his throat and paced away again.

  It was clear that he was as overcome with emotion as she, and was doing his best to master it. She was almost feeling sorry for him until he turned around and asked her, “Did you plan the whole thing, then?” He’d moderated his tone and now sounded merely curious, but his eyes were dark and forceful.

  Had she planned this whole thing? Rage, which had been simmering just below her defiance, boiled up and overflowed.

  “Oh! Of course I did!” She spat. “Of course I planned the whole thing!” She took a menacing step forward and was delighted when Calum took one back.

  “I planned for your men to stumble across me and drag me into your camp. I planned for your nephew to be injured near to death! I knew that when I’d run away you’d tie me up and drag me to your castle and guard me, like a prisoner, lest I try to leave.”

  To his credit, Calum had the decency to look embarrassed, but Isla didn’t care. “I somehow managed to orchestrate your fall in the woods. The horse kicked you in the head because I must have said something to it! I purposefully taunted you with my presence; I all but threw myself across your bed that first night! Oh no, you didn’t take advantage of me at all, you didn’t drag me off my path, force me away from my home and my family…”

  “Enough.” Calum’s voice cut through her diatribe like a crossbow bolt through iron. Isla fell silent without meaning to. She shut her mouth, drew herself up, and gave him her most withering stare.

  “Jesus, God, you’ve the tongue of a viper,” he said, but he sounded exhausted not condemning. He ran a hand across his face and pinned her with a look that refused guilt.

  “And you’
ve the disposition of an ass.” Isla moderated her tone not one bit. “Did I plan to get pregnant by you? Of course not! Do I want to marry you?” He winced as she said it, and it might have been because her voice had raised an octave or because the idea was as distasteful to him at that moment as it was to her. “You’d have to stick a knife at my back to get me to the altar.”

  “I better not have to do that,” muttered Calum, running a hand through his hair and loosening his braid. “We’ve three clans in attendance. The Earl will have us married on the morrow.”

  “Well we’ll see about that,” said Isla, whirling around. She’d speak with the Earl; he wouldn’t make her marry Calum Grant.

  As she reached for the door, Calum’s hand shackled her wrist. In one quick move, he whirled her around, twisting her arm gently, but firmly behind her back until she was chest to chest with him. She thought for a moment about struggling, but didn’t wish to hurt her arm. So she glared up at him instead.

  “Lass,” he said, softly, and damn her body for quivering. She’d missed him so much in those first few weeks, had felt so alone and betrayed. Now he was here, chest to chest with her, but her pride was balking. He’d cast her aside. He’d pushed her away.

  “Lass,” he said. “It wasn’t so distasteful to you a few months ago.” He smiled at her; he actually smiled at her. Her rage spiked again, but it felt cold this time.

  “I was under the mistaken impression that you were a man of worth.”

  “Isla, I did not know who you were and had I known…”

  “Had you known you would have been kinder? You would have asked my uncle permission? But casting me away was fine because I was a nobody. Just a healer. Just another disposable body to warm your bed.”

  He looked pained and opened his mouth, then closed it. He shook his head. “Lass, I wish I had been the better man, and I cannot make an apology that would suit – there is none. But as it stands, we’ve no choice but to wed. You are the great niece of a powerful Clan Chief and you are pregnant with my child.”