Page 38 of Sinbound to the Highlander
“‘Tis nay necessary,” Evan said, then added in a regretful tone. “If ye see Miss Milleson, give her me regards. I’d hope to speak to her about our weddin’, but another day it seems.”
“If I see her, I’ll pass on the message,” Freya replied. “She might be up a bit—.”
Lady Lobhdain, came into the room, her expression a little surprised. “Oh, dear me, Laird Ruthven, I kent ye had left.”
“‘Tis me fault, Lady Lobhdain,” Evan took the blame graciously, “Our talk wavered from hither to yon, and time slipped past us. Miss Crushom volunteered a remedy for me Maither’s stiff knees, and I’m grateful. With that, however, I believe I’ll just take me leave. I’ve asked Miss Crushom to pass over me respects to Miss Milleson, but I suppose ye both might take the message. Good day, Ladies.”
Bowing, he smiled at Freya’s reddened face, and with warm contentment resting on his chest, he left the room and the house. Holding the urn close, he waited for the horse to come around. He slipped the jar into the saddlebag and hopped onto the large mount.
I’m nay sorry about nae seeing Elspeth; speakin’ with Freya was more satisfyin’.
He rode off, mulling over the fact that Lady Lobhdain was planning to marry Freya off and felt the same burning smolder of jealousy heat inside him.
Where is this comin’ from? I have me own marriage to handle, and I’m actin’ like a lad who got spurned by the lass he likes.
Was that it? He slowed his horse’s speed down to a trot and thought back to those moments in the garden, how he wanted Freya to lean on him, how pleased he felt when she smiled, and how her distress made him feel out of sorts, but it was the mention of marriage that lit a bonfire inside him.
Never have I felt those emotions for Elspeth.
He wanted to see Freya happy—but not with a man that was not him—and that stopped him cold. He had given the Laird his word that he would not look at any other woman while his intentions were for Elspeth.
He wanted to give Elspeth a chance, but Freya was capturing his attention. She was everything Elspeth was not—she was kind, generous, humble, and loving. But he wasengaged.
I have to give Elspeth a chance. I cannae be so fickle. But what if it’s too much to bear?
Inwardly, he winced. If it came to the point where he would request Freya’s hand instead of Elspeth—it was not going to be an easy thing to explain. The more he thought about it; the more his probable explanations felt weak. It was going to be a dark mark on his character and his reputation to renege on such an honorable deal. Shame began to erode him from inside as he approached his home.
Evan knew he could not utter a word of this to his mother, as he had not fully internalized it himself. As he rode, his leg nudged against the stone urn Freya had given him, and that only made his burden heavier. Passing through the gate to his home, Evan tried to look through Freya’s eyes on the castle looming above him.
The three stories of dark stone and the corner towers that seemed to reach to the skies certainly had a menacing feel to it. With his horse stalling in the front courtyard, Evan gazed up, feeling a sense of profound intimidation wash over him. It was no wonder Freya had panicked that day.
Alighting from the horse, he plucked the urn from the bags, then handed the horse off to a boy and went inside. The tantalizing aroma of food wafted into the entrance hall from the Great Hall just a few steps away, but he decided on having his meal sent up to his room. Taking the stairs, he got to his mother’s room to find her in a chair at the window. Her expression was mostly peaceful, but had seemed reminiscent as well.
What is botherin’ her?
