Page 26 of Married to the Ruthless Highlander
“Turns out, ye cannae swing from those antlers… Well, ye can for about twenty seconds before ye go plummetin’ and ruinin’ everyone’s roast pheasant.”Ersie had snorted, gesturing toward the chandeliers in the feasting hall after regaling Freya with a raucous tale of a visiting southern Laird who had imbibed too much.
Freya had laughed so hard that she had almost forgotten her anger toward Doughall and his unceremonious departure from the library.
As promised, they snuck into the kitchens and managed to pluck some freshly fried fritters while the cook wasn’t looking, the delicious treats dripping in honey.
Walking side by side, Freya nibbled on her sweet and tried her hardest not to think of Doughall. But it seemed nearly impossible. Every corner they rounded, every staircase they passed by, a small part of her hoped that she would catch a glimpse of him, but he was nowhere to be seen.
Ersie broke the silence after a while, her tone casual but probing. “It’s nae me business,” she began, glancing down at Freya. “But do ye think yer braither will accept this… arrangement?”
Freya raised an eyebrow. “Why do ye ask?”
“Would he nae be cross over it? Pretendin’ in such a way?”
“I dinnae ken how he’ll react, truly, but it’ll nae be me who has to explain it. I didnae get much of a choice in the matter,” she admitted, her voice tinged with bitterness. “Doughall decided it was the best way to keep me safe, and I cannae find a position to argue.”
“Were ye tryin’ to run away when we found ye?”
Freya paused and looked at Ersie, her mind spinning. Was the man-at-arms asking this on Doughall’s behalf, or was it genuine curiosity? Could she tell Ersie the real reason why she had been far from home?
She helped save me… she deserves to ken.
Quickly, Freya reached out and grabbed Ersie’s hand, her eyes widening. “I am so truly sorry.” Her voice was hushed. “I never said thank ye for findin’ and savin’ me. I… I?—”
“Dinnae thank me yet. The job’s nae done while someone still wants ye dead.”
“The truth is, I was tryin’ to find me sister,” Freya admitted, letting go of Ersie’s hand. She started to walk again, the subject at hand making her restless almost immediately, and there was no turning back from it. “I thought I could do it on me own… to prove meself or somethin’. I… I dinnae ken what I thought I was doin’.” She let out a breath, shaking her head. “It seems I cannae do much of anythin’.”
Ersie glanced sideways at her. “I wouldnae say such a thing.”
Freya raised an eyebrow. “What do ye mean?”
“I’ve seen a change in Doughall since ye became his… charge.”
Charge.
Freya scoffed, shaking her head. “A change for the worst.”
“Nay, nae at all. He’s always been an arse, ye must ken that already. But in the last few days… I dinnae ken how to explain it.Somethin’ is different about him—a small somethin’, maybe, but it’s there.”
Freya let the words linger in her mind, though she wanted to dismiss them outright. Could he really have changed, even just a little? He seemed the same as ever—cold, hard, and entirely too sure of himself. Still, Ersie’s words niggled at her. Was it possible? Surely, this woman knew Doughall better than anyone else.
“He wasnae always like this, ye ken,” Ersie sighed.
“Oh?”
“When we were bairns, he was a wee shite who never shut up. Braggin’ and arguin’ like one of themSassenachprincelings.” She smiled at the memory, something lost and covered in a layer of dust. “He wouldnae admit it, but he cried an awful lot too. Och, if ye so much as thwacked him in the trainin’ yard, he’d start blubberin’. Or if he heard a sad story or a woeful ballad. Aye, more the latter.”
Freya stared at Ersie, wondering if this was the beginning of an elaborate joke. But the other woman seemed entirely serious, so Freya tried her best to imagine such a thing. Emotionless, cold-hearted Doughall bursting into tears over a sad tale or a beautiful piece of music? It nearly made her laugh just thinking about it. It was ridiculous. Impossible.
“What changed?”
Ersie’s smile faltered slightly, and she looked away as if weighing her words. “It’s nae me place to say it.” She frowned. “But sometimes I think hehadto become like this. He didnae have too much choice either.”
Freya nodded slowly, not understanding, not completely. She wondered what had happened that changed him so, and if she could work up the courage to ask him. And if she did, would he tell her?
Ersie turned back to her. “Maybe ye’ll be able to bring his old self back.”
“I doubt it,” Freya replied, with a bite in her voice.
