Page 57 of Sinbound to the Highlander
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Dawn had not come, but Evan was wide awake, gazing on a sleeping Freya. The firelight was low, but it was enough for him to admire the lady he had made love to. He refrained from reaching out and touching her, not wanting to disturb her sleep.
She looks so peaceful in her sleep. Her constant anxiety and worry daenae carry with her in her rest.
Last night had secured all that he had felt for Freya in one solid lump in his chest. He was not beginning to love her—he had fallen headfirst in love with her. Her long auburn hair lay in disarray on the pillow, as he admired how peaceful her delicate features were in her rest. His gaze went back to the fan of her lashes resting on her cheeks, and breaking his vow; he used the tip of his finger to brush across them gently.
She shifted but did not wake, and Evan was grateful; what did wake her were the knocks on his door. Irritated, he pulled away while Freya wrapped the sheet around her chest, with her cheeks pinking. He did not answer the door immediately, but leaned over to kiss her.
“Good mornin’, Love,” Evan said, notching his fingers under her chin. “Do me a favor and nay worry yerself too much.”
With her nod, Evan slipped out of bed and donned a dressing gown and wrapped it around his body. Tugging the door in enough to shield his wife-to-be from the onlooker, “Aye?”
“Me Laird,” the servant woman dipped her head, “Good mornin’. Mister and Missus Crushom have arrived and would like to speak with ye when ye are free.”
“Thank ye,” Evan nodded. “Show them to the Great Hall and have them eat something if they want. We’ll be down presently.”
Retreating to the bed, Evan perched on the edge and reached for Freya, who was sitting up. Her eyes were going around the room while his were on hers. Memories of the previous night came flooding back to him, how she had rendered him breathless, seeing her under the moonlight. How every gasp of her breath or soft cry in his ear had robbed him of pieces of his control.
Reaching out, Evan took her hand and pulled her closer. Freya kept her hand on the sheets, covering herself, but he felt pride in seeing the row of kiss marks on her skin.
Proof that she is mine, and will forever be mine.
“Yer parents are here, love,” Evan said, playing with a thick lock of her hair, “Would ye like me to call for a bath for ye?”
“Would ye bathe with me?” Freya asked.
Leaning in to kiss her, Evan said, “Aye, I will. Ye’re nay regretful for what we did last night, are ye?”
It took her a moment to reply, but Freya shook her head, “Nay. I…I daenae regret it. We are to be married soon, and we do love each other. What wouldnae be good other than expressing it? We had come close, but it wasnae the right time. I’m happy we waited.”
“Aye,” Evan agreed, as that night in the pagoda flashed before his eyes. “I’m glad as well. Let me send for our water.”
With another kiss, Evan went to order their water, and returned to find Freya at the window. The bedsheet was wrapped around her and tapered away in a train. Her hair was a mess of curls down her back. With the early sunlight transforming her hair and skin into a halo, she looked divine.
Wrapping his arms around her waist, he propped his chin on her shoulder. She was looking out a vast stretch of his kingdom, from the few mountains to the plains that led to the sea and the houses between.
“Anythin’ catches yer eye?”
She twisted in his hold, but shook her head. Her eyes were wide and luminous. “Nay, but I would like ye to take me around. Is there a place that is special to ye?”
“There is,” Evan replied, “It’s a grotto in the loch. Years ago, the river was in spate and carved itself another route. The grotto was hollowed out years ago by the river, and has banks of the sweetest-smelling moss surrounding a pool of tranquil water. I want ye to see it.”
Interrupted by the servants carrying in the water, Evan watched Freya’s reaction—and not once did she shrink away. Even while clad in his sheets. When the door closed behind them, Evan led her to the annex room where the large tub was full. Two benches were lining the walls, and the large windows allowed the white vapor from the water out of the room.
Plucking the string of the robe, Evan removed his clothing and smiled when her eyes ran over his muscular form with appreciation. Setting it on the bench, he went to take the sheet from her.
“Shall I disrobe ye, Love?” he asked.
“Ye may,” Freya lifted her hands, and though the sheet sagged, he pulled it off, revealing her body to him. Smoothing his hands down her sides, Evan grinned and dipped to scoop her legs from under her and carried her to the tub. Laying her inside, Evan took the lamp and added a generous amount of lavender oil into the water.
He stepped over the rim, then slid into the steaming water with her, and immediately pulled her to rest on him. His hands curved over her breasts, reacting to her raised nipples tantalizingly taut against his palms. But there was no time for intimacy. Instead, he reached for the small cake of olive-oil soap and a washcloth.
Freya’s hands braced on his thighs, and her back arched, indicating what she wanted, but Evan stopped her with a nibble to her ear, “When we bathe tonight, love, but nae now, yer parents are waiting.”
Her body deflated, but nodding in acquiesce, Freya uttered, “Later on?”
“We’ll see,” Evan replied. Freya allowed him to wash her, and even with arousal coursing through his blood, Evan got them cleaned and out of the tub to dress. Resting on his made bed was one of Freya’s dress, a dove-gray dress with emerald embroidery, thick woolen hose, and a fur mantle.
