Page 40 of The Scarred Duke's Bride
The lady’s maid got to her feet, staring skeptically at Freya. “I am just in the middle of building up a fire.”
Freya shook her head. “No need for it at the moment. Please leave.”
Her maid continued to look stupefied for a moment before she made for the door.
“Whatever you say, m’lady,” she said before shutting the door behind her. Freya blinked at the door for a moment, drew in a deep breath, and then blew it out. She felt confined and itched to open the door and run out.
But why shouldn’t I? I am no prisoner.
After making sure the cotton cloth holding her was secure, she put on her silk-lined slippers, marched to the door, and opened it. Peering down the corridor, she looked right and left before creeping towards the back door. There was not usually much activity on it at this time of day. She slipped down the stairs on tiptoe and then out of the side door, happy not to have met anyone.
She crept around the corner before running as fast as she could to her rose garden. Squeezing between two bushes, so she could not be seen from the house, she lay back on the grass with a sigh of contentment.
“That’s better,” she murmured with a smile.
Slowly, her eyes slipped closed, and she lay there, half asleep, just breathing in and out.
“Freya?”
Her eyelids slowly fluttered open when she heard her name whispered, and she turned her head to see Isabella peering at her cautiously.
“What are you doing?” her sister asked.
Freya smiled. “Hiding.”
Isabella looked around, “Is someone chasing you? Are you playing a game?”
“No. I was just tired of being in my chambers unable to go anywhere because of these damned courses.”
“Oh,” Isabella said looking nonplussed, and then she giggled. “William saw you running and came to tell me. He thought something might be wrong. I think he might have gone in search of Eric.”
Freya sat up. “Oh no! I don’t want to see him. I’m not supposed to.”
“Why? Is it because of the…” she lowered her voice, so it was almost inaudible, “blood?”
Freya shrugged. “Who knows? There are just so many rules, it gets exhausting. Do not get married if you can possibly help it, Isabella.”
Her sister giggled. “All right.” She sat down, crossing her legs, “I much prefer to live here with you and Eric, William and Mrs. Campbell.”
Freya made a non-committal sound, suddenly remembering what her father had threatened to do. If she did not get with child, Isabella might not haveanyhome. Her stomach dropped, and she suddenly felt very maudlin. Reaching for her sister, she pulled her close, embracing her and breathing her in. She took comfort from Isabella’s presence while pretending to comfortherby rubbing her back soothingly.
Approaching footsteps made her look up to see both William and Eric, peering into the garden. “Is everything all right?” Eric called.
Isabella pulled away to turn towards them. “Yes, it’s fine. She just wanted to get out of the house.”
Eric nodded. “Well, we shall leave you to it then.” His eyes shifted to Freya’s, caught, and held. Despite herself, Freya was glad to set eyes upon him. For some reason, he looked taller than she remembered and also more handsome. The scar on his face gave him a dangerous air, and she just wanted him to reach for her, pull her to her feet, and devour her.
She shivered, sliding her eyes away and hoping he had not divined her thoughts. She heard footsteps receding and didn’t know if she was glad or sorry that he’d gone. She looked up towards the opening of the garden and swallowed her disappointment that it was empty.
* * *
There was something about Freya — she seemed to glow with some inner light that called to him in a very visceral way. Eric could feel his body stirring as he looked upon her in the garden. That was until he saw her look at his scar and then turn away.
Like a shock of cold water, he remembered that he was not palatable to women, not anymore. Quickly, before she could look back and see the hurt in his face, he walked away, William trailing after him like a lost puppy.
He made for the stables, just wanting to get as far away from her as possible. “Do you fancy a ride to the village, William?”
His brother skipped in excitement. “Yes!” then he frowned, “Do you think Isabella wants to come?”
