Page 75 of Married to the Ruthless Highlander
Isla tied a bow at the back. “Nonsense. Ye must. It belonged to me sister too. Nay one has worn it since she… left us, and it’d be a shame if nay one ever did again.”
“Ye’re makin’ me look bad,” Ersie chimed in with a bright smile. “I dinnae have anything to give her, unless ye want to borrowme dirk, Freya? Ye could tie it to yer leg in case Laird MacMillen tries to dance too close with ye again.”
Freya chuckled, closing her hand over the large emerald. “I willnae be dancin’ with anyone but me husband today.” She cast Ersie a pointed look. “I nay longer have a need for our bet, Ersie.”
“What do ye mean?” Ersie hurried to her side, taking hold of her hands. “Och, dinnae leave me in suspense!”
Dropping her chin to her chest, Freya closed her eyes and remembered the previous evening—the feel of his slick skin warming her in the loch; the meadow and the fireflies; the way he had brought her to the most powerful conclusion she had ever experienced and the all-too-brief thrill of him piercing her, like a promise of what might await her on her wedding night. A drop of ambrosia on her tongue, making her crave more.
He said he couldnae lie with me, but he said he wouldnae marry either, and here we are…
Had she not seen him smile for the first time, and heard his sweet, soft laughter, maybe she would have lost hope that his mind could be changed. Instead, that flickering flame of hope burned brightly in her chest. If it threatened to dim, all she had to do was think of that laugh, that smile, the way he held her in his arms in such a fond embrace.
“Freya!” Ersie urged. “What happened?”
Freya realized she had not yet answered her friend, too distracted by the memory of last night. “I think ye owe me or I owe ye.”
Ersie squinted. “Eh?”
“I… made him laugh, Ersie.” Freya’s breath hitched, the memory more emotional than she had expected. “And I saw him smile. He… smiled all the way back from the loch.”
Not one to be left out, Isla peered over Ersie’s shoulder. “Ye didnae!”
“I did.” Freya nodded shyly. “I told a joke, and… he laughed. Ye wouldnae believe it, but he’s twice as handsome when he laughs and smiles. Maybe that’s why he doesnae do it often, or else nay lass in this castle would ever get anythin’ done—they’d be too busy starin’ at him.”
Isla clapped her hands together, bursting into a laugh of her own. “Och, when ye first came here, I kenned there was somethin’ special about ye. I hoped… Ihavehoped for so many years that a lass like ye would come along.” She whipped a handkerchief out of her pocket, dabbing at her eyes. “Ach, ye’ve got me started too soon with the weepin’! Flynn will think I came too close to the hogweed again—I’ll be so puffy!”
“Ye dinnae owe me anythin’, Freya,” Ersie said, letting out a cheer as she pulled Freya toward her and began dancing around the room with her. “All I want is for ye to be happy—for yebothto be happy, for as long as ye shall live!”
“Aye, me too!” Isla cried, clearly struggling to calm herself down. “Och, Freya… Ye dinnae ken… how glad… ye’ve made me. How glad ye’ve… made me tired, old heart.”
Ersie suddenly tugged Freya into a tight hug, swiftly joined by Isla, who put her arms around them both. In her one-and-twenty years on this earth, Freya had never felt so at peace, bursting with such a certainty of belonging that it nearly made hercry too.
“What is the meanin’ of this?” a sharp voice demanded to know from the doorway, jolting the three women apart.
Freya’s head whipped toward the entrance, her gladdened heart deflating at the sight of her mother standing there. She should have known that the giddy contentment would not last, but she had not expected to see her mother at all until the wedding ceremony, considering how they had parted ways the day before.
Emily and Adam were not far behind, the latter coming to an abrupt halt as he laid eyes on his sister. He blinked, his mouth falling open, while Emily’s hand flew to her mouth and her eyes widened in astonishment.
“Good mornin’ to ye, Maither,” Freya said politely. “I didnae ken if ye wanted to be with me as I prepared for the day ahead, so I began without ye. Isla has been helpin’ me.”
Both Ersie and Isla took a half step backward, flanking her, offering their silent support against whatever storm was about to rage.
So, it came as something of a surprise when Moira Kane hiccupped and pressed her handkerchief to her mouth, trembling as she looked upon her daughter.
“Ye shouldnae hug like that,” she said, her voice slightly muffled by the handkerchief. “Ye’ll crease that… perfect gown, and me sweet girl will get all red with the heat of all that jostlin’.”
Freya’s eyebrows rose slightly, confused by the response. “Ye… like the gown?”
“Dearest Freya, it is… the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” Moira replied, walking closer. “Yeare the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Who did yer hair like that? And—Oh! Who gave ye that exquisite necklace?”
Freya nodded toward Isla. “She did.”
“Thank ye,” Moira said to Isla with a graceful bow of her head as she stopped in front of her daughter. With a shaky hand, she lightly cupped Freya’s cheek. “I cannae believe I missed it. I should’ve been here to help ye. I… I’m sorry, Freya. I’m sorry I was… so stubborn. I’m sorry I didnae seek ye out to make amends, but rest assured that seein’ ye like this, kennin’ I wasnae here to witness it all, is the cruelest of punishments. Me heart… is achin’.”
Freya swallowed past the lump in her throat, wondering if perhaps she was still asleep in her chambers, dreaming of impossible things. Had someone told her that she would one day receive an apology from her mother, she would have laugheduntil her sides were sore. But not only had Moira apologized, but she also seemed wracked with remorse.
“Can I hold ye, me sweet girl?” she asked hesitantly.
