Page 30 of Sinbound to the Highlander
After uttering her deepest fear, the silence in the carriage felt louder to her than a beating drum. Of course, the Laird was silent; he agreed with her.
“That is the furthest thing from the truth,” the Laird said sincerely, “Whoever kent yer freckles are the sign of a witch, should be sent to a madhouse. I happen to find them charmin’.”
Freya’s head snapped up, and her mouth slipped open in surprise. The honest expression on Laird Ruthven’s face mirrored his words. In the same breath, she felt her heart leap. “Ye do?”
He nodded and reached over to pry her almost bloodless fingers from the carriage seat. “I’d never lie to ye, Freya. Ye have a wonderful heart, and I’d take it as a personal insult if you shy away from me ever again.”
Freya’s skin heated under his touch, her heart started to race at a frantic pace, and it did not help that the Laird’s thumb—unwittingly, she had to believe—was tracing circles on the back of her hand. His grip tightened over hers, before he let go. Now, her palm tingled, as if it missed his touch. She saw the Laird fist his hand onto his lap, and she dared believe he was experiencing the same thing she was feeling.
“Do ye promise to nay shy away from me again?” he pressed.
“Aye,” Freya said, quietly with a slight smile. “I promise, Laird Ruthven.”
He took his hands away from her and sat back, looking pleased, “Ye may call me Evan, since I’ve already taken liberties with yer forename.”
Only when we are alone. I daenae ken Elspeth will like that.
“Thank ye…Evan. May I tell ye a few more of me fears?”
“Aye, and I’ll help any way I can,” he nodded.
Sucking in a deep breath, she told him how she feared to make mistakes in the castle and to look like a dunce in the face of tutors the Laird would get for her. After listening to her, Evan—and it felt so strange to call him that—addressed all of them in one swoop.
“As Elspeth had to learn them, so will ye. I hardly doubt the tutors will be unkind,” he said as they approached the Lobhdain castle. “And Miss Milleson has given me her word that she’ll help ye adjust.”
Freya held back her reservations on that, as she suspected that her sister had only told him that to endear herself to him. Evan leaned forward, and his look was conspiratorial, “And if they dinnae, just send for me, I’ll come chargin’.”
The carriage came to a stop, and her heart took another leap when she saw the Laird, his Lady, and Elspeth standing at the doors to receive her. Worse, six footmen were standing there, three to each side, and down the steps. It was a bit more than Freya thought she could handle. Her hand tightly grabbed the pendant on her chest while the other grabbed at the seat so hard she became white-knuckled.
“Here,” Evan stuck out his hand, “let me help ye.”
She nodded numbly before reaching out to take his hand. His grip was firm and comforting while helping her out the vehicle and onto the ground. She held the bag of pie to her chest while he led her up to meet her parents. As she mounted the stairs, the footmen bowed, and her cheeks began to warm.
Still too much.
At the top step, Lady Lobhdain flung her arms around Freya and held her tightly, but she had not let go of Laird Ruthven’s hand, so the hug was awkward. And with the bag between them, the embrace was very clumsy.
“So glad to have ye here, Darling,” Lady Grace, as she had told Freya to call her, said.
“Me too,” Freya replied, while, by happenstance, she caught a glimpse of Elspeth’s eyes. They were narrowed to slits and stuck on the hold she still had with Laird Ruthven. She yanked her hand away as if his touch had burned her.
Oh no.
