Page 39 of A Scot's Pride
“I could ride back with ye, and ye may borrow one of mine. I’ll tell her I wish to provide escort.”
“That seems like an inconvenience to you.”
“I would no’ have offered if I didna want to. And I’m positive Ashbury would be happy for the extra time with your sister, as I canna imagine he’d let me ride alone without offering the same to Riley.”
“Hmm.” She tapped her chin as she thought about it. “That is true, and Riley would most certainly accept.” Freya stopped in the center of the pathway and glanced up at him, skeptical. “What’s changed, my lord? You hated me not more than a week ago.”
Bryson was taken aback by her statement and immediately riddled with guilt for ever having her think that. He turned to face her, looking into her eyes. “Hate is a strong word, lass.”
Freya cocked her head, studying him so hard he thought she might be able to see into his soul—and he realized then that he wanted her to.
“Then what would you call it, my lord?”
Without hesitation, the word spilled from his mouth. “Fear.”
“Fear?” She looked stunned by his admission, almost as much as he was for having even uttered the word.
What was it about her that made him trust her with such a declaration? Despite the madcap way in which they’d gone about getting to know each other, he was enamored by her and knew, too, that she would be honest with him. And it compelled him to be honest with her right back.
“Lads are taught when they are young to look fear in the face and tell it to bugger off. To resist its tight icy hold at any and all costs.” He sat down on one of the carved stone benches and patted the seat beside him.
He waited for her to hesitate to join him, but without preamble, she took a seat near him. Once again, he found himself surrounded by her scent. And though she sat a respectable distance away, it was close enough that he could feel the warmth of her skin.
“Do go on,” she encouraged.
“When I fought for our country, again, it was reiterated to us. No fear. No fear.” He shook his head, recalling exactly what fear looked like in the eyes of the young recruits and how he’d had to hide his with a brave face so those lads weren’t more scared. Nothing like seeing your leader with the fear of death on his face to make you lose faith in the battle. “’Tis a stupid thing to say because no matter how much ye say it, fear is always there. It’s what ye choose to do in the face of it that counts.”
Freya nodded, her eyes filled with compassion. “It’s true. Though, I cannot imagine what it must have been like on the front.”
“A living nightmare.”
“I feel silly now that I said fear is ruling my parents knowing you’ve faced real fear.”
Without thinking, Bryson took her hand in his, then quickly let it drop. Freya smiled down at her lap, and he breathed a sigh of relief.
“Their fear is real. I’d no’ dismiss it. Everyone has their fears to face. There is no scale of whose fear is more important. They are scared about what will happen to their daughters. How their children will survive when they are gone.”
He watched as her throat bobbed when she swallowed, too overcome with thoughts to reply.
“And, when I met ye, I was letting fear rule me, though I told myself fear was rubbish, and I was a man.” He smiled, hoping to alleviate some of the angst tightening her shoulders.
Freya chuckled. “Ah, so the determination of whether or not fear exists rests in our sex.”
“And if I were a pompous arse, I’d pronounce that ye’re riddled with fear, fair one. But alas, I believe women have some value in society other than being rescued by men to breed their heirs.”
Freya laughed. “You do surprise me. Tell me, what is such an avant-garde man like yourself afraid of?”
Bryson grinned. “I dinna think anyone has ever called me avant-garde before, so perhaps ye, too, are full of surprises.”
“I’d say you’d be surprised, but we’ve already established that.”
“This is true.” Bryson leaned back against the tree at his spine and looked up at the sky. There were a lot of things that he was afraid of. Quite a few had to do with his sister’s future and his own. But perhaps the thing he feared most would also be intriguing to the lass beside him. “Being shackled forever to a hoyden who drives me mad is, I think, fear number one at the moment.” Bryson scrubbed his face.
“If you’re not ready to marry, what’s the hurry?” she asked. “For us mere females, marriage determines the rest of our lives, but bachelors have a lot more wiggle room.”
Bryson glanced down at her, the blue of her eyes even brighter in the sun. Could he trust her with the truth? It seemed too soon to tell her everything. And would she judge him for it?
That thought almost made him laugh. Again, he was letting fear get in the way. The worst thing that could happen was that she’d snub him, but beyond being truly mad at him for something he had done, he couldn’t see her going out of her way to snub him for no reason. Besides, he’d already established that he could trust her. What did he have to lose?
