Page 80 of Captive Mafia Wife

“My darling.”

“Exactly.” She gives her lawyer nod of confirmation, getting closer to winning her case. “I’m your dear, your darling. Your words, not mine. You have been calling me ma chérie almost since I first arrived. You wouldn’t say that if you didn’t feel love.”

“You sure you don’t want…a different kind of man? A different life? You didn’t have a choice in coming here…” I don’t know what to say.

“I love you. I love our life. I love our story.” She kisses me softly and sweetly, a kiss I feel throughout my body. “As long as I can tell you I love you as much as I want, I’ll wait forever to hear you say it back.”

“You will?” I ask.

“Aye. That’s real love.” She smiles. “You’re protective, reliable, and loyal, even leaving the Kings’ inner circle the moment they released me. You’re always there for me. If I were to choose a man from a lineup, those are the attributes I would want.”

“And you are everything I’ve always wanted.” I touch her face, telling her everything I can. “I’m so sorry I wrote that note. I slept in the guest house and missed one night with you. I should have come to you. I should have told you what I felt—I should have been more courageous.”

“What are you talking about? I got a great night of sleep without your snoring.”

Of course, my sweet, perfect Freya makes light of this moment. “I don’t snore.”

“You do, but not to worry.” She gives a silly waggle of her brows. “I won’t kick you out of my bed. The buttercream icing on the wedding cake is that I find you extremely handsome.”

Shocked, relieved, ecstatic, I joyfully joke back, gesturing to the blue-and-green cashmere sweater I wear, one from our collection. “Handsome and well-dressed as well, I hope?”

“Aye.” She starts to laugh, but the sound chokes off, and she goes quiet. Has she changed her mind? Her skin pales, turning a funny shade of green, looking, as the Scots say, peely weely. Unwell.

“Och. No.” She bends at the waist, erupting her partly digested breakfast all over my chest.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Freya

Merry Christmas is curledby the fire, sleeping cozily on her favorite fuzzy purple bed. Happy Halloween is on the settee next to her, close enough to be friendly but high enough to swat Merry if she gets too rambunctious.

I hear Morven passing by in the hall, singing quietly to herself as she dusts.

I rock back and forth on my glider, staring at the silver-framed photos that line the mantle. There’s one from our wedding, Fredrick and me, smiling wide. The latest photo of wee Miss Ophelia Pearl settled and safe in her mother’s arms, with the lovely English countryside of her grandparents’ cottage in the background. The one I took of Fredrick in his sweater when he first gaveme the camera.

The last frost will come soon. Callum and Fiona will visit to welcome spring. Fiona will show me how to plant jasmine vines, blooming shrubs, peonies, and other flowers in the Healing Garden.

Callum and Fredrick will visit with one another, no longer planning on waging wars. Instead, they will battle one another on the golf course; Fredrick will wear his pink-and-green plaid sweater from our collection for the game.

Not interested in traveling to Glasgow, and neither of us drinking whisky any longer, Fredrick has sold the distillery and his other businesses to the Kings, the considerable profits going straight into the bank.

My life is now in Inverness, and my whole world fits inside this cozy, well-decorated living room. I am no longer anyone’s captive or target. No longer a part of the Kings. Not a practicing solicitor. I’m just a wife, loved and cherished. I feel free. I feel complete. The girls from the firm will be here for my baby shower in a few weeks. Soon, I’ll be a mother, and the precious baby in my belly will join our happy family.

After my husband’s trauma and my feeling the pain of having a child torn away from us, for now, we’ve made a career compromise.

We’ll both be stay-at-home parents.

We’re fortunate enough to afford the time together. Neither of us wants to miss a moment of this baby’s life. And I don’t want to miss a single day with my husband.

Merry and Happy lift their heads, seeing who’s entering the room. Happy gives a lazy yawn. Merry, too tired, drops her head back down on her paws.

I smile at my husband as he walks in, holding a cup of tea. “Hello there, handsome.” The scent of peppermint reaches me. Morven sent it to settle my stomach. I take the cup he hands me. “Thank you.”

“Of course, my love.” He kisses my head before dropping to a knee beside me. His hand goes to my belly, gently rubbing circles. “And how is this little one today?”

I smile. “Sleeping soundly. Hasn’t moved in an hour or so. Only two more months before she joins us in person. I can’t wait.”

“I’m dying to meet our little girl, but I must admit…If I could keep her safe in your belly forever, would I?”

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