Page 59 of Sinbound to the Highlander
Her burst of laugher had him grinning as well before sliding her down his body to the ground. Lacing her arms around his neck, Freya kissed him, and he met her gentle lips with his hand sliding up her back. “Come.”
Leading her to pile of blankets, he helped her to lay, and when she looked up, through the break of tree limbs to the darkening sky, he reached out for her hand. “I brought ye here because I would like us to talk.”
“About?” Freya asked.
“Everythin’,” Evan said, “Anythin’, whatever comes to yer mind. Tell me yer childhood, what ye want, what ye love, and what ye fear.”
Lacing her fingers with his, Freya requested, “Ye’ll have to start.”
Needing to hold her, Evan reached over and cradled Freya in his arms. Evan told her about his earliest memories of his father, spoke to her about the love between his father and mother. How they communicated without even looking at the other, or how his father would suddenly just take his mother into a dance around their room without any music.
“I love yer voice, so deep and rich,” she murmured, “I can hear how ye love and miss yer Faither.”
He fought back the hollow feeling carved into his heart at the memory of his sire. “He would have loved ye,” Evan said, “I ken he would.”
Thinking forward from the day his father passed, Evan told her about his childhood, under the tutelage of his masters, how he had nearly broken his leg riding a horse that was three times larger than his eleven-year-old self, and how he had worried himself into sleepless nights when it had come to the point of him taking up the mantle his father had left behind.
The sky was dimming, and the faintest pinpricks of the stars were coming out. Freya grasped his hand, “Me life is hardly as colorful as that. I do ken that as long as I could remember, I kept wondering about me parents. Me worst fear was that I’d never find them, or ken where I’d come from.”
“And now that ye have?” Evan asked, while pulling away to light the candles with strike flints.
“I still…” she sighed, “feel that I have a long way to go. I ken Elspeth is still nay fond of me, mayhap even worse now that yer marryin’ me than her. She was so invested in making ye her husband.”
“From what I’ve seen, she could care less,” Evan shrugged. “Stop worryin’ about her, Love.” Grasping her hand, Evan tugged her closer and turned her to rest halfway on him.
Smoothing her hair away, he pulled her down for a kiss, parting her lips with his tongue, he deepened his intimate embrace, and gently probed her mouth with his tongue. Keeping the soft loving pace, he held her so she could brace her hands on his chest and grinned into it when he felt her trembling. Shifting her to lay on his body, Evan held her there while she steadied herself on her elbows on either side of his head.
With her hair now curtaining them from the world, Freya asked, “Can we marry in me village’s kirk? I ken I’d be more comfortable there, and the people there would love ye.”
“I dinnae mind,” Evan said. “Do ye have a date in mind?”
“Spring,” Freya laid her head on his chest, “when the flowers are in bloom. I want water lilies in me hair.”
Kissing the top of her head, he asked, “Is that all ye want?”
“With ye and this life, it’s more than I ever hoped for,” Freya whispered as she gazed back at the sky.
Evan’s heart ached for her. Massaging the back of her neck, he said, “Ye deserve much more. Freya, as long as ye live, I’ll give ye the world ye ask for.”
She moved up his chest, “We’ll grow old together?”
“God forbid anything unexpected happens, aye,” Evan pulled her in for a kiss. “We’ll grow old together.”
