Page 22 of Sinbound to the Highlander
A servant came to the door, and after leaning an ear, Laird Lobhdain nodded, “I ken, me Love, we can sort that out after a good meal. Mister and Missus Crushom, please come with me. The banquet is ready for us.”
Evan lingered for the Laird to lead Freya’s parents out of the room, and Lady Lobhdain followed with her daughters in tow. He breathed out a long breath of relief. Things were going better than he had expected, but there was still a tight knot of apprehension he had arrived with, resting in his gut.
Have I done the right thing?
When he walked into the Great Hall where the table was laden with a feast, he saw Miss Milleson’s downcast face and wondered why. He should talk to her later on, but the only thing he wanted to do was to be near Freya.
The head table was laden with a feast, platters of roasted beef and fish, tiny bowls of spiced sauce, stewed lamb, freshly baked bread, warm flaky meat pies, dark puddings, and bright fruit.
Freya’s eyes were wide as saucers while looking at the table. He could see that this was more food than she had ever seen in one place in her life. For him and the Milleson’s, it was a common occurrence, but for her, it must have driven in the nail that this was way out of her ordinary life. Her shoulders slumped, and distress marked her face. He tried to meet her eyes and show her some comfort, but she never looked up.
Poor lass, what I wouldnae do to help her.
“Do ye drink wine, Dear?” Lady Lobhdain asked Freya kindly.
She shook her head, “I’ve never had it.”
“Ye’ll have the mead then,” the Lady nodded, “It’s made of fruit, spices, and honey and is very sweet. I ken ye’ll like it.”
Freya only offered her a tight smile. Evan shifted his gaze to her parents and saw a profoundly contemplative look on Mister Crushom’s face, while Missus Crushom’s was pale and sorrowful, as if she was expecting to lose her daughter at any moment.
The servants came with the drinks, and with a lifted goblet, the Laird said, “It’s nay everyday miracles come to yer home, but today, me house is blessed with the return of a child I had kent was dead. A child we have mourned for years and never expected to stop mournin’ to the day we died, but thanks to God’s mercies and his hand directin’ Laird Ruthven right, we have our child back. And to Mister and Missus Crushom, our undyin’ thanks for taking such good care of her. We are indebted to ye both.”
Missus Crushom looked a little mollified, but she did not lose her worried look entirely, and as she dipped her head, her husband spoke, “Thank ye, Laird Lobhdain.”
“Please, let us eat,” he said, then waved a hand, and minstrels came in with music instruments to play.
Watching Freya intently, he saw her honest delight at the food she picked. He was not sure if she knew how expressive her face was, but he was not going to enlighten her about it. It felt refreshing to have someone so modest and natural in a world where people were taught how to act. Miss Milleson was taking tiny bites from her meat pie and sipping her wine silently.
The petulant look is gone from her face, but she doesnae look too happy.
Lady Lobhdain was glowing, and her eyes rarely left Freya. Freya had lost some of her nervousness, but Mister and Missus Crushom still looked a little uneasy. He understood their dilemma; if Freya would live at the castle, in the village, or travel between both. They might be conflicted, but he had one as well. Looking between the two, Elspeth and Freya, he felt torn.
Two daughters, one that I am pledged to and the other, one that I am drawn to. Maither warned me nay to let me heart override me common sense, but me common sense is not leading me to the one I want. What am I going to do?
