Page 28 of Married to the Ruthless Highlander
He poured himself another measure, such notions doing nothing to temper the memories that plagued him. If anything, it had the opposite effect, making him wonder what sounds she would make if he were to do such things.
“Thatexcited for the betrothal feast tomorrow, eh?”
Flynn’s voice made him look up from the glass of amber liquid.
He gave his uncle his most apathetic stare. “It’s idiotic. I dinnae ken why me aunt and Freya’s maither are fussin’. We all ken what this really is.”
“Do we, now?” Flynn leaned against the nearby table, where Doughall had ‘borrowed’ a bottle, and poured himself a smaller measure. “I was under the impression that the clan and council—and meself—were about to get what we’ve been harassin’ ye for, for years. Enlighten me if I’m mistaken.”
It was true that Flynn had been pushing Doughall to find the next Lady MacGordon, constantly shoving eligible women in front of him with a nudge and a wink. The arrangement with Freya was meant to serve the double purpose of getting Flynn and the council off his back, but he had forgotten, and he had no inclination to try and talk his way around the truth.
“Ye dinnae need enlightenin’, so dinnae join me aunt in actin’ as if this pretense is anythin’ but. Nae when it is just the two of us in here,” Doughall said roughly, downing the second measure and wiping his lips with the back of his hand.
The brush of his skin against his mouth sent his mind hurtling back to the library, to the hungry crush ofherlips, the eagerness he had not expected—the enthusiasm that had made it no punishment at all.
Adam had better return swiftly, or else I cannae promise I’ll return his sister in the same condition that I found her.
“Judgin’ by that frown on yer face, I’d say that me darlin’ Isla isnae actin’ as much as ye think,” Flynn said in an amused tone that made him feel like he had thorns in his veins.
“The pair of ye are as bad as each other. Ye cannae even sit an inch apart, so ye think everyone else ought to be as insufferable.”
Doughall had never envied them their relentless affection. All he saw was delayed tragedy—a disaster waiting to happen when one inevitably lost the other and had their heart ripped out of their chest.
Flynn chuckled. “Ye cannae blame us. We’ve always wanted to see ye settled and, aye, as insufferably happy as the two of us.” He shrugged and sipped his drink. “And I’m nae givin’ up hope on this Kane lass bein’ the one to make ye so besotted that ye wonder how ye ever managed without her.”
Doughall grunted. “I came here for peace, nae proddin’.”
“Aye, well, I’ll let ye be, then.” Flynn patted his nephew on the shoulder as he passed. “If ye decide ye want company, ye ken where to find me. But dinnae drink too much of that, eh? If ye have too much, ye never ken what effect it might have. Why, ye might get so drunk that ye start declarin’ yer undyin’ affection for yer soon-to-be betrothed.”
Doughall shot him a dark look. “I have never been drunk in all me life.”
“Naeyet. Maybe that’s exactly what ye need.”
Flynn wandered off, his laughter echoing through the distillery, making Doughall’s hackles rise all the more.
For as long as Freya was within or outside the walls of his castle, he would have no peace at all. Not even in the places that used to be his sanctuaries.
Today is goin’ to be a long day…
“What is that?” Freya gasped, catching the swift flash of blue and orange feathers along the shingle shore of the loch.
Ersie’s eyes widened. “Och, a kingfisher! That’s a good omen, M’Lady.”
“It is?” Freya gulped.
“They’re a rare sight, M’Lady. If ye’re fortunate enough to see one, then ye cannae be anythin’ but lucky.”
“Freya, please,” Freya insisted, uncomfortable with the honorifics.
Ersie smiled. “As ye prefer, Freya.”
Freya relaxed, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Is a kingfisher as rare a sight as seein’ Doughall show any kind of emotion other than anger?”
Ersie burst into laughter, the cheery sound rippling across the mirror-still surface of the loch.
An odd sense of pride swelled in Freya’s chest, knowing that she was the one who had made Ersie laugh like that. Ordinarily, she had no opportunity to be funny. Laura was the entertainer, the jester, the one who could send an entire room into fits of laughter.
“Aye, I imagine so.” Ersie’s laughter faded slowly, but her smile remained.
