Page 56 of Married to the Ruthless Highlander
He said barely anyone but his maither came into this room. If this belonged to her, then she made an effort to keep it hidden.
Folding it back carefully and slipping it back into the cover of the book, she decided there was nothing else for it; she was going to have to speak to Doughall about it whenever he deigned to return from wherever he had gone. She was not going to wait to be found—shewould find him the moment he stepped back into the castle.
After locking the library behind her, she made her way toward the eastern tower with the book and its secret letter held tightly to her chest. There was an empty study up there with a window that looked out over the moors, offering the best view of returning riders. No one would get to him before she did.
Who could have sent such a letter?she pondered as she walked, lost in her world of mystery, trying to fit the sparse pieces together in any way that made sense.
“Freya, there ye are! I’ve been lookin’ all over for ye,” a familiar voice halted her progress.
She turned to find Isla hastening up the hallway toward her, looking harried and red-cheeked. It seemed impossible to Freya, but it appeared that Isla hadbeen searching all over for her, as if, somehow, she mattered.
“I was… readin’,” Freya said, quickly tucking the book behind her back.
Isla came to a breathless standstill. “I was so worried ye’d left. Och, I could kick meself for nae goin’ after ye before.” She reached out and put a gentle hand on Freya’s forearm. “I ken this hasnae been easy for ye. It wouldnae be easy for anyone. Mercy, it’s nae even easy when ye’re besotted with the man ye’re goin’ to marry, as I was, andIgot to stay in a castle that already felt like home. Forgive me, Freya.”
The maternal—or perhaps sisterly—touch of Isla’s hand ignited a shy warmth in Freya’s chest, her face flushing with a happy heat.If no one else in the castle thought she was of any importance, Isla was making it clear that she did.
Maybe she kens about this letter…
Freya bit her lip in thought, the book burning a hole in her back. After all, Doughall had said that Isla was the most frequent visitor to his mother’s library, being her sister and all.
“I hadnae slept well,” she replied carefully. “I was in a fractious mood already, but… I’m quite recovered now. There’s really nothin’ to forgive.Iwish I’d stayed and had breakfast with ye.”
That seemed to please Isla. “Ye could come and dine with me now? They havenae cleared anythin’ away yet.”
“I would love to, but…” Freya paused, willing the letter to somehow tell her what to do “I was goin’ to sit in the eastern tower for a while, to write to me friends. They’ll be worried about me whereabouts, and I should inform them that, the next time they see me, I’ll be a married woman.”
She dearly wanted to ask Isla for her opinion on the letter, but one word held her back: Doughall. Until she had shown it to him and heardhisopinion, she could not bring herself to show the note to anyone else, not even someone who might know where it came from.
Isla nodded in understanding. “In that case, please say ye’ll have luncheon with me? I want to ken everythin’ there is to ken about ye, Freya. I want ye to be happy here, so let me do this for ye.”
“I should like that,” Freya replied quietly, wondering if she was about to make another friend at MacGordon Castle. After all, she did not have any back at home.
“What are we chatterin’ about, eh?” a different voice interjected, followed by a figure descending the narrow staircase just behind Freya.
She turned quickly, trying to angle her body in such a way that neither Isla nor Flynn would be able to see the book in her hands. Not that the book itself was particularly sordid—it was merely an exquisitely bound version of Ovid’sMetamorphoses.
“I was just invitin’ Freya to have luncheon with me,” Isla replied, beaming at her husband and breaking Freya’s heart in the process.
Will I ever have a reason to look at Doughall that way?
Flynn skirted past Freya and took his wife in his arms, pressing a tender kiss to her lips that seemed to make Isla melt. Freya looked away, uncomfortable with the enviable display of affection.
Will Doughall ever behave that way with me?
She tried to imagine it, concentrating on his tenderness after he had conjured up a world of pleasure within her, but all of that had been in secret. The hallways had been empty, with everyone else enjoying the feast, and she doubted he would have carried her with such care, if at all, if that had not been the case. And he had only shown a sliver of his vulnerability when the bedchamber door was closed.
“I swear ye get more beautiful every day,” Flynn sighed, tucking a lock of hair behind Isla’s ear.
She swatted his chest playfully. “Aye, and ye lose more of yer sight every day.”
“Naught wrong with these eyes, love.” Flynn winked, turning his attention back to Freya. “Lookin’ forward to the weddin’, are ye?”
Freya gulped. “That reminds me—I really must write those letters to me friends about the weddin’. If ye’ll excuse me.”
She dipped into a brief curtsy and hurried off, cringing as she heard Isla scolding her husband behind her.
“Ye scared her off, ye oaf. What did ye do that for? Poor thing is as skittish as a foal.”
