Page 87 of Sinbound to the Highlander
She arrived at the little kirk, covered with spring heather and white water-lilies—similar to the ones in her hair—with her mother beside her in the carriage. Her mother went out first and helped her out. The moment her feet touched the ground, excited cries came from the people around her.
Evan, clad in his clan’s plaid, stood tall and handsome against the bland gray stones of the kirk. Laird Aiden was beside him, dressed similarly to her husband-to-be. They violated the orders from the Crown, but Freya had learned quickly enough that Highlanders had their laws and codes—and marriage meant clan colors.
He reached out and took her hand, lifting it to his mouth for a soft kiss. “Ye are radiant,mo chridhe.”
Freya softly pulled her hand away and brushed her knuckle over his cheek, “Have I ever told ye how handsome ye are?”
“Nay,” he laughed while taking her hand and leading her inside, “but I’d like to hear it more.”
Instantly, her eyes landed in her adopted parents, her father in his old clan plaid, and her mother tearing up into a tiny handkerchief. But what brought tears to Freya’s eyes, was old Missus Beathag, sitting there, with a knowing smile on her face. Freya broke free from Evan and went to embrace her, tightly.
In her ear, Freya whispered, “Ye were right. Thank ye.”
“T’wasnae me, Dear,” Missus Beathag whispered back. “I only tell what the spirits tell me.”
Stunned, Freya pulled away. Spirits? What spirits? Did that mean the womanwasa druid?
Seeing Freya’s amazement, and confusion, Missus Beathag only winked mysteriously. “Ye husband is waiting, Dear.”
“Aye,” Freya replied, then with another grateful smile, went to join Evan.
Father Malcolm, the village’s preacher, dipped his gray hair to her, then faced the rest. “Welcome Laird and Lady Lobhdain, Mister and Missus Crushom and Missus Beathag as honored witnesses. We are gathered here today to join two families into one. Me Laird, and Miss Crushom, please kneel.”
* * *
Though their room was three flights over the Great Hall, Freya could still hear the carousing the wedding guests were indulging in below. Not too soon after the ceremony, Evan had whisked her back to the castle, where the celebratory feast was already in motion, past the feast, and into their chambers.
While passing, Freya had expected that the feast would be incredible, but she had not been prepared for the massive amounts of food she saw. Mountains of fruit, piles of roasted beef and deer meat, innumerable quantities of bread loaves, and wine flowing as if a river of it was nearby. She had barely gotten a chance to snag a peach before Evan ushered her to the bed chamber.
Now, after a bath of warmed water and rose oil, she was in their bed, in a flimsy shift, and admiring the gold band on her finger.
Who would have kent I will be married, much less than I am now Lady Ruthven.
“If ye want one studded with jewels, I can easily arrange for one,” Evan said as he came forward, clad in his dressing robe and handing her a goblet.
“Nay,” Freya said, taking the goblet and sipping the sweet mead. “This is quite enough.”
He slid into the bed and took her right hand, “Has it sunk in that ye’re now me wife?”
“I daenae ken it has,” Freya said, “And it probably won’t for a few years.”
“Why a few years?”
Freya shrugged before setting the goblet down and reaching for the peach, “I can be off, but I ken that might be when I have ye first bairn.”
Freya bit into her peach, and made a soft gasp at how ripe and sweet the fruit was. Its delicious juices escaped the seal of her mouth and dribbled down her chin. Evan was suddenly there, catching the droplet with his tongue. The touch had her shivering from head to toe, and the peach tumbled from her hand.
“Sweet,” Evan murmured.
His hand slid the tails of her shift up her shin, and the touch of his rough palm had pleasure spiking into her body already. She slid to her back and lifted her bottom so he could push the shift up. As she sat up, he tugged it off her completely.
Bare, she watched as he stepped off the bed and pulled the robe away, with his golden eyes never leaving hers. His body was magnificent. She watched the play of rippling muscles across the broad span of his shoulders, dipping to his chest, and ridged stomach. If she didn’t know better, she’d have thought he was carved from a slab of marble. Every sculpted inch of his body showed his power, strength, and virility.
Tantalizingly, he plucked the peach from the sheets and bit into it, swiping a trail of its juices from his chin. “Hmm.”
Resting the fruit on the nightstand, he joined her on the bed, laying on his back but reached out and tugged her to rest on him. With her knee resting on his thigh, he kissed her soft at first, but soon his kisses seared through her like wildfire.
His hands weren’t idle either as they fanned the flame, teasing, and stroking her skin until warmth was a constant sensation under her skin. He hauled her up and sucked one of her nipples into his mouth. Gasping, Freya was not sure she could hold her balance much longer, but then he spun them, so she was under him.
