Page 39 of Married to the Ruthless Highlander
“Emily,” Emily introduced herself, reaching out a hand to the man-at-arms.
“Ersie,” Ersie replied, shaking it.
“Imps, the pair of ye!” Freya rasped, her head dizzy with confusion.
Nothing that either of the women had said was untrue, and that irritated her twice over. Just because she had kissed Doughall and could not stop thinking about him did not mean that shelikedhim, did it? Whocouldlike such a man, particularly after he had made his feelings abundantly, brutally clear?
“Freya,” Emily said more softly, “I dinnae agree with the way me husband has gone about this. I’ll be chidin’ him for it for a fair while, ye can believe that. But… he’s as stubborn as a mule and willnae change his mind on this. I ken ye’d do anythin’ for yer sister, and that ye already ken what ye must do, so what matters now is ensurin’ that ye have a peaceful marriage. Maybe even a happy one.”
Freya snorted, her eyes welling with tears she fought desperately to hold back. “I’d have a better chance of gettin’ Adam to forget the entire thing.”
“Talk to him,” Emily urged.
Freya frowned. “To Adam?”
“To Doughall,” Ersie interjected.
Emily nodded. “In time, I’m certain ye’ll be able to untangle this mess.”
“Very well.” Freya straightened and pulled her shoulders back. “Then I’ll leave the two of ye to gossip while I go and tell that—that mean man what is goin’ to happen.”
“I didnae mean right this second!” Emily gasped, getting up.
Freya waved her off. “Nay, nay, what better time than now to understand the true extent of how miserable I’m about to be?”
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Doughall stalked past a giggling couple tucked away in the shadows of the entrance, having their own private festivities. He walked by a gaggle of maids sipping from cups that clearly did not have anything innocent inside, and a couple of children haring about long after they should have been in bed.
I ought to berate them.
But he was not in the mood. Besides, his presence was enough of a deterrent for the maids and the children, who immediately fell silent, curtseying and bowing with shamefaced expressions.
He had given up on riding for long, the moorland and the icy winds doing absolutely nothing to shake Freya off his thoughts. So, he had headed back, deciding that whiskey would be his remedy instead.
Relief washed over him as he pushed into his study, ready to drain the bottle he had stored away for such a day.
It was as short-lived as his ride.
“Ye of all people should ken it’s nae polite to enter a man’s study when he’s nae present,” Doughall grumbled, dropping his cloak onto the reading chair in the corner.
Adam sat at Doughall’s desk, not in the main chair so as not to insult him, but in the chair for guests and visitors. “Yer aunt gave me permission.”
“Me aunt doesnae have the right.”
Adam huffed out a breath. “Are we to start at odds with each other, then?”
“Nay, Adam, we’re far beyond that.” Doughall rolled up his sleeves. “I should have killed ye in the courtyard for even thinkin’ of drawin’ yer sword against me, in me own home.”
Adam at least had the decency to bow his head, his eyes crinkled as if an old injury was bothering him. “What would ye have done if it was yer sister?” He raised his gaze to his. “She’s mebabysister, Doughall.”
“She’s nae a babe,” Doughall grunted in reply, walking to the chest of drawers at the side of the room to take out the hidden bottle of whiskey.
It might not have been the best idea to add liquor to tempers that were already hot, but he needed a dram, and he had no doubt that Adam did too.
If ye hadnae all treated her like she’d break if ye so much as patted her on the back, she’d be on the road with ye, and we wouldnae be havin’ this conversation.
Doughall thought better of adding insult to injury. Tensions were running too high between them already.
