Page 76 of Taming the Highland Misfits
Freya nodded slowly. She had not thought of that. She could not have cared less about her reputation, but it would end badly for Alex if it was found that he had sneaked into her bedroom.
“Let me see your arm, please.” Her voice was firm, and she reached out for him, but he drew his arm back and shook his head.
“Mistress McColl can look at it in the morning,” he said wearily. “I wanted to see if you were all right. I could not bear it if anything had happened to you.”
“Really? But you could see that I was unharmed.” She frowned. “I am well, Alex. I am very glad you came, though. Thank you. You are a good and generous man.” She gazed at him for a few seconds longer, and all the terrifying events of the evening came rushing back. Suddenly, the tension and fear that she had been unconsciously carrying with her since the encounter with the bandits turned into a storm of tears.
Alex drew her head onto his shoulder and waited while Freya wept until she had no tears left.
When she looked up, there was an expression on his face that she had never seen before; his eyes were shining, and they were gazing at her mouth. He cupped his hands around her face and brushed his thumb over her lower lip. “Are you feeling better now?” he asked, his voice low and husky.
“Yes, thank you, Alex,” she replied. “Thank you for everything you have done for me tonight. You probably saved my life. But I cannot believe you came to see me like this before looking after yourself. You must be so uncomfortable!”
Alex looked down at himself and laughed. “I hadn’t noticed,” he said ruefully. “I was more worried about you. If anything had happened to you, I would never have forgiven myself.”
Freya stood up and bent down to kiss his forehead. “If anything bad had happened to us it would not have been your fault.” Her voice was soothing.
Alex finished his wine and glanced at the window. It was almost daylight. “I must go,” he said quietly. “Nobody must find me here, Freya.”
“I wish you didn’t have to.” She sighed and put her arms around his waist, leaning her head against him.
“So do I,” he tilted her face and softly placed his lips on hers. It was a very gentle pressure, quite unlike what she had expected their first kiss to be. She had imagined his kisses to be like the rest of him; strong, hard and masterful. However, as he gathered her into his arms, she realised that beneath the mask of tough masculinity he showed to the world there was a great well of gentleness and tenderness.
His tongue teased her lips apart and dipped into her mouth, stroking and caressing hers, and she abandoned herself to bliss. When he drew away a moment later to look at her, his eyes were dark with something which, in her innocence, she could not yet identify. Later she would discover that it was desire.
6
Present day…
As Alex kissed her again, Freya’s mind strayed back to when she and Alex had had their first physical contact. Things had changed a lot since then, of course; they had both grown up, and their love was now a mature thing that nurtured both of them and enriched their lives immeasurably.
Now, as his hands strayed onto her breasts and she pushed her hips forward to feel his hardness against her, Freya knew she could quite easily abandon all restraint and give way to her own animal desires. However, once more, Alex came to his senses before anything untoward could happen and put a little distance between them.
“We have to stop, Freya,” he said gently. “What was I thinking of, bringing you here? It is too dangerous for both of us.” Then he frowned and gazed at her for a moment. She was looking at the floor and avoiding his eyes, and presently she turned away, but he reached out to grasp her arm to make her face him again. “Something is worrying you, sweetheart. What is it? Tell me.”
“It is nothing serious,” Freya replied, with a nervous laugh. “My father wants me to go riding with Laird Maxwell’s son. He is a complete oaf and I despise him.”
The whole story was a complete lie from start to finish, and Alex knew it. There was something Freya was not telling him, and he was determined to find out what it was. “No.” The word was firm and decisive as he said it, and he pulled Freya toward him to make her face him again. “You are lying to me, Freya. I know you too well, I can see it in your face. What are you not telling me?”
Freya sighed and decided that she might as well tell him what had been said over the breakfast table that morning. “My father and that odious steward of his, Gerald Patterson, are trying to pressure me into marrying someone,” she replied. “And if I don’t make up my mind, they will choose someone for me.”
Alex’s heart lurched, and he stared at Freya dumbly for a long moment. He did not know how he could cope with life without her, and to see her in the arms of another man–the thought sickened him.
“I see.” His tone was one of anger and bitterness, and he sat on the floor and ran his hands through his thick blond hair in a gesture that spoke of his exasperation. “I would feel much better about that if I thought the Laird was looking after your best interests, Freya, but he is not. It sounds as though he has another purpose in mind. Is this some kind of political alliance?”
“Yes.” Freya sat down beside him on the floor and laid her head on his shoulder. “He is worried that our alliance with your clan alone is not strong enough, so he wants me to marry into another clan so that we have a better chance of defending ourselves against the Baxters.”
“Which clans does he have in mind?” Alex was not just alarmed now; he was terrified. Some of the clans in the district around Kilkenrigg were not just strong, but brutal. A few of the Lairds and their sons were rumoured to have committed violence on their womenfolk, and Alex had no intention of standing by while anything like that was done to Freya. He would kill to protect her.
Freya shrugged. “He did not tell me in so many words,” she answered, “but if I had to guess, I would say the McMillans, the Robertsons and perhaps the Gallaghers. But those are only guesses. I might be completely wrong.” She sighed. The more she thought about it, the more hopeless the situation sounded.
Alex had been completely unprepared for this. His heart dropped into the pit of his stomach as he thought of Freya–his Freya–being married to the fat, pompous Hamish McMillan, who was actively seeking a bride. He would put every obstacle he could in their path.
Then there was Frank Gallagher, who was outwardly quite a handsome young man, but rotten to the core. He was rumoured to be a bully and a lecher who would chase any woman he fancied, married or not. He would likely marry Freya because of the challenge of taming her fiery spirit, and his methods of doing that would be brutal. Alex knew he would kill him to save Freya.
James Robertson was a good man, probably the best of the three of them, but he knew that Freya would likely die of boredom after a month. James would cater for her every need, hang on her every word, make himself into her servant, and she would walk all over him. Robertson was not what she needed; Freya loved a challenge, and being wed to a man whose mission in life was to be her slave would drive her mad.
“I knew this day was coming,” Alex said dully. “I knew your father would try to use you in this way, but if you are happy to marry any of these men, then I will support you and help you in any way I can. I will do anything I can for your happiness, but Freya, if you do marry one of them, it will break my heart.”
