Page 74 of Taming the Highland Misfits

He turned to face her again, rubbing his hands over his face as if he was too embarrassed to look at her. “Yes,” he answered. Then he smiled, his eyes shining with love. “It feels so wonderful to be alone with you like this, and have you in my arms.”

Freya was almost choked with emotion, so she said nothing, merely snuggled into his embrace once more.

5

Three years earlier…

The occasion of the marriage of one of Laird Murdaugh’s closest friends, a gentleman farmer called George Stewart, to a young widow half his age, was a matter of great interest to the town of Kilkenrigg and its surrounds. Everyone who was anyone had been invited to the celebration and all the local Lairds and their families were there, resplendent in their finery. They were all either showing off their wealth or parading their sons and daughters as if they were products for sale at a marriage market. Most were doing both, since it was almost always the case that wealth led to a wedding. Freya had a very cynical attitude to these affairs, and was never able to enjoy them, since she spent most of the time rebuffing unwanted advances from young men who only wanted her for her father’s wealth. The fact that her beauty attracted them had never really crossed her mind.

It did not take long for Aidan and her father to become very drunk. Bearnard had not yet reached the age where he was allowed near a whiskey bottle, so he had been obliged to stick to watered-down ale or wine, much to his obvious chagrin. However, he had made the best of it and managed to have a reasonably good time, since most of the young noblewomen liked the look of the tall young man with stormy grey eyes and auburn hair. Bearnard had already begun to make a list of those who merited further attention.

Aidan, when in his cups, had become one of the species of annoying male creatures that Freya had been swatting away like irritating flies all evening. She was ashamed of him and did her best to avoid him.

However, Freya could not have cared less about her menfolk, for tonight her world had changed forever. Tonight she had danced with Alex, and it was the most heavenly experience of her life. Somehow she had never expected him to be so graceful on his feet, but that was not what she remembered the most. It was his smell–the unique scent of him that she could have picked out of a hundred men.

It was earthy, with a suggestion of the ale he had been drinking, and a tiny hint of fresh male sweat; there was something else, though, something that Freya could not quite place. Underneath all the other aromas lurked something sweet, something that called out to every womanly particle in her body and begged her to be his. Would she be his?

Oh God, she would leap into his arms in a matter of seconds if he allowed it, she thought. She would give him everything, including that gift that she had never given to any man before; the gift she was keeping for her husband.

She had seen him dancing with another young woman and had felt quite unreasonably jealous, so when the dance ended and he bowed to his partner and left the floor to fetch some ale, she sauntered across to him casually.

“I did not expect to see you here,” she said, smiling.

“I did not expect to be here.” He looked a little uncomfortable suddenly. “All these young ladies think I am a nobleman with money. When they find out I am only a guard they’ll go hunting elsewhere.”

“But your uncle is a Laird,” Freya pointed out, frowning.

“That is true, but he has three sons, so it is very unlikely I will ever inherit anything from him,” he pointed out. “Even if I did, I am not interested in the kind of woman who only wants me for my wealth.”

I want you for much more than that,Freya thought, feeling a pang of sadness. She looked out at the crowded dance floor, seeing all the daughters and sons of the landed gentry doing everything they could to make themselves noticeable to each other.What is wrong with these shallow Laird’s daughters? Can they not see the quality of the man they are rejecting?she thought angrily.

However, their loss was her gain, and Freya would take advantage of that with the greatest of eagerness. She did not realise she was gazing at Alex until he waved a hand in front of her. “You are staring,” he said, laughing. “Is something stuck to my face?” He rubbed his hand over his beard, and Freya followed the movement with her eyes, wishing it were her own hand.

She felt her face turning red with embarrassment. “No,” she replied. “It is a very nice face. I was just admiring it.”

“Thank you,” he answered, looking a little surprised. “So is yours.” He glanced out to the dance floor again, then turned back to her. “Will you dance with me?”

Freya felt her heart skip a beat, and hoped that she was not smiling a little too foolishly. She nodded, then took Alex’s hand and he led her onto the dance floor. She was so nervous that she felt her knees might give way, but as soon as she was in his arms with his strong body next to hers, she felt much, much better.

She wished it could have lasted longer, but the dance seemed to be over in the blink of an eye, and before long, it was time to say goodbye to their hosts and travel home again. Freya did not see Alex again after their dance, since she had immediately been dragged away by her father to be introduced to another tediously boring suitor.

When they all emerged into the courtyard to climb into their carriage, they discovered that the weather had changed from a cool but dry evening to a torrential downpour. Freya groaned. She knew that it would take hours to arrive back at their own castle, since the roads would be thick with gluey mud.

Alex was riding home, and Freya felt infinitely sorry for him. By the time they arrived back at the castle he would be drenched, but he would still have to go on duty in the morning.

Frantically, Freya looked around the carriage to see if they could fit him in, and indeed there was just about room for one more person. Yet Alex was a big man. Could it be done?

“Father, I am going to ask Alex to join us,” she said firmly, reaching for the door; however, she was deeply shocked by their response.

Both the Laird and Aidan roared “No!” at the same moment. Bearnard was silent; he rarely became involved in arguments.

Freya jumped in fright, then, as she looked at the state of her father and brother, anger flared up inside her. “What do you mean?” she demanded. “There is space here. It may be a little squashed, but we will survive. Would you let him be drenched in the rain and maybe catch some serious illness?”

“I don’t give a damn about him,” Aidan said dismissively. “He is not one of our family, and I am not giving up my space for him!”

Freya looked at her father, and saw the same hostility on his face.

“He is a guard.” His voice was slurred. “Let him ride in the rain. He works for us, not the other way round.” He signalled to the driver, who was also being soaked to the skin, and they moved away.