Page 76 of Sinbound to the Highlander
He washed quickly, donned his undergarments, the thick léine, and hose before going back to the bed chamber. Elspeth looked at him, huffed, and turned away. On his makeshift bed, Evan’s mind ran over the letter he’d gotten; the note said, something precious to him.
Precious to me…what is precious to me that I daenae—
His eyes flew open—could it be…Freya?
Nay something—someone!
Dressed in another borrowed dress, and a blanket over her shoulder Freya sat at the backstep of Missus Helga’s house and stared out into the waters that were almost half a mile away. The house was on a slight slope and gave her the vantage point of seeing to the horizon where the deep-blue waters glistened with a crystal sheen.
Did Evan get the letter? Is he on his way? Does Elspeth nae ken what is happening—that I’m alive?
The morning was slipping away, and thankfully, the hard snowfall had held up, and the flakes were drifting lazily down, in complete contrast to the tight anxiety trapped in her heart. As she gazed out without looking, she bit back the bitter tears that Evan was right about Elspeth. She had not earned nor deserved Freya’s trust, but she still had given it to her anyway.
And for what? To be stabbed in the back, drugged and thrown away like rubbish. Freya’s chest heaved with the dry sobs, and chills, not from the cold air around her, possessed her body. Her mind flashed back to the moment when hard hands grabbed at her, lobbied her over the cliff, and the agonized scream that had ripped itself from her throat.
Then, the feel of crashing through the thin ice, feeling the piercing cold that had ripped through her garments, encasing her body in a watery casket of ice, and the helplessness she felt sinking to the depth. The sensations all came back in a rush, and her body lurched forward—only to be caught in hands she knew and longed for.
“Shh,” Evan whispered. “Shh, Love, I’m here. Hold onto me.”
Clinging to him, Freya felt him trembling as much as she was, but her body was losing strength, and her knees crumpled under her. Without missing a beat, Evan grabbed her and sitting, placed her on his lap. Arms were wrapped tightly around, while Evan pushed her head into the crook of his neck. With her ear laid to his chest, she felt his racing pulse in beat with the frantic throb of her heart.
“I’m here,mo chridhe,”he murmured in her other ear.
Trapped in her daylight nightmare, Freya tried to shake the tremors away but failed in dismissing the horrific memories. Evan’s hand was stroking down her side, and his comforting words barely made any purchase in her mind. Slowly, torturously, she gained control over her body, when she did face Evan; she saw his anger. It was visual, and as palpable as was his sadness.
“A sheòid,” she murmured, nuzzling her face into his chest. “Ye’re here.”
“God would strike me if I were anywhere else,” he kissed along the line of her hair. “I am yer hero, Love, because I vowed in me heart to protect ye, and I’ll fight to me last breath for ye. Even before I deduced it wasnae ye in me home, I feared—God, Freya, I feared death was on me doorstep. That if Elspeth was dead, ye would never recover, and ye’d despise me for nae giving her a chance to prove herself.”
Freya twisted and saw tears brimming at the corners of his eyes. She pressed a finger under his eyes, and a drop spilled out. Never had she seen Evan cry. He took her hand and clasped it to his temple, to kiss her inner wrist.
“When I got the letter, I pondered what was so precious to me—then I hope it would be ye. Hope nearly killed me on the way here, if it turned out it wasnae ye, I wasnae sure what I’d do.”
“Elspeth is pretending to be me,” Freya said mournfully as she stroked his face.
“Aye,” Evan gripped her closer. “She put on a good show, Love, acted like ye, dressed like ye, and kent some of yer herbal remedies, but she kent little of ye. I was suspicious of her when I observed how she acted, how she ate, and how she…” he snapped his lips shut, but Freya gave him a searching look, and he relented, “when she tried to get me to lay with her.”
Aghast, Freya grabbed at him, but he answered her question before she asked, “Nay, Love, nay, I dinnae. The signs were little, but I saw them all and kent she wasnae ye. I had to make sure, though, and she answered me questions about our affairs without pause, but she dinnae ken when or where we had our first kiss.”
Again, the folly of her misplaced trust in Elspeth carried more anguish than she could imagine. A low, painful cry tore from her throat but, Evan's arms held her close, drawing her firmly to him. His lips, warm and hard, met hers and seemed to blow breath and vitality back into her body.
When she pulled away, Freya shook her head, “I shouldnae have trusted her, Evan, ye were right. She shouldnae have ever been trusted.”
Grasping her face in both hands, Evan asked, “What did she do to ye?”
Though painful, Freya went back to that fateful day, five days hence. “She said she wanted to see a cliffside and arranged for us to go when our parents were absent. We took food to eat, but the cider she gave me was drugged. She got her maid to strip me off me dress, yank the hairpin out of me hair. Fixed her hair like mine, dyed her face to look like me, and then got the carriage man to throw me over the cliff.”
A possessive growl, low and animalistic, rumbled through Evan’s chest. Warmth flushed Freya’s body while he held her against his powerful body. The woodsy scent of him enveloped her senses. Turning her face to him, Evan laid a warm, loving kiss on her lips.
“Never again, Love,” he vowed. “Ye’ll never hurt like this again.”
Resting her head on his shoulder, Freya gaze out to the river, “This lady, Missus Helga, her grandson was the one who found me. Said he was walking by the river when he saw me drifting along. He has nay been around as he’s a trader, but I owe him me life.”
“As do I,” Evan held her close.
Soft footsteps behind them announced the arrival of Missus Helga, bearing two goblets in her hand. “Please, drink. ‘Tis sweet mead.”
“Thank ye,” Evan said as he reached for them, handing one to Freya. “What is yer grandson’s name, Miss Helga?”
