Page 89 of Taming the Highland Misfits

She had been the one who told Freya about her mother’s death when her father had been too overcome with grief to do so. Now, as she looked at the young woman whom she had watched growing up, she felt a sense of pride that she in some small way had had a hand in making her who she was.

Freya looked over and smiled at her, and then came over to greet her.

“I am so happy for ye, Milady,” Bettie said happily. “Ye are marryin’ a very good man.”

“Thank you, Bettie,” Freya replied, before she was surrounded by the rest of the staff, who showered her with congratulations.

Meanwhile, Alex had almost been ambushed by some of his men, who had heard everything and were giving him their own kind of felicitations which were a lot more robust and distinctly less polite than the ones Freya was receiving.

Freya turned and caught Alex’s eye across the courtyard, and he moved across to her, whereupon he was showered with more congratulations from the housemaids. He put up with this with patient good humour for a while, but he was impatient to be away and alone with her. Once the wedding preparations started in earnest, they would have little chance to talk, never mind being intimate.

Eventually, they managed to extricate themselves, leaving the housemaids to gossip amongst themselves about the news they had just heard. Both Alex and Freya were liked and respected by the guards and the staff, although there were a few, like the housekeeper, Alison McBride, who greeted the news in her usual fashion.

“About time,” she said sourly. “That lassie’s been allowed tae run wild for too long, but that Alex MacNeill willnae be able tae put her in her place.”

Bettie, who had broken the news to her, frowned and sighed in frustration. “Well, I am happy for them,” she declared. “She deserves a bit o’ happiness, an’ so does he. Dae ye no’ think so?”

The housekeeper thought for a moment, then nodded. “Aye. I suppose so,” she conceded, and Bettie jubilantly left to tell the others about her victory.

Meanwhile, the Laird himself went to tell Mhairi and Caitrin about the engagement. He summoned them to his office and opened a bottle of wine, then poured them each a glass.

“Alex and Freya are going to be married,” he announced.

The two women smiled at each other, then at him. “We were not completely sure, M’Laird,” Caitrin said, “but we both felt that it was more likely than not.”

“Aye, M’Laird,” Mhairi agreed. “It is nae surprise.”

“Are you both happy for them?” he asked.

“Yes,” Caitrin replied. “It is wonderful news.”

“Aye, M’Laird,” Mhairi answered. “I couldnae be happier for them.”

“Then let us drink a toast,” he suggested, holding up his glass.

“Slàinte Mhath!” they chorused, clinking their glasses together.

“Now.” The Laird looked at them through narrowed eyes. “I want you both to know that you will have to exercise the utmost patience in the next two weeks. You know what Freya is like when she is very angry?”

The two women nodded.

“Prepare yourselves,” he warned. “She is much worse when she’s very happy!”

* * *

The only person not rejoicing after hearing the news was Aidan, who had been thoroughly humiliated during the exchange with Alex, Freya and his father. As the Laird’s son and future owner of the entire estate, he was not used to being disobeyed, and Alex MacNeill had flagrantly defied him. Not only that, after the incident when they had been wrestling together and Aidan had cheated, he could feel that the respect in which the guards and the serving staff held him had noticeably lessened.

Alex MacNeill had a lot to answer for, and somehow Aidan was going to make sure that he did. He might be the Laird’s pet, but Aidan despised him. He refused to admit to himself that the emotion he felt when he thought about Alex was jealousy, because jealousy was beneath him.

Now, as he looked around him, seeing everyone smiling, laughing and celebrating, he felt nauseous. Would they react the same way if he was being married? Somehow he doubted it, but then Freya had always lowered herself to the servants’ level, whereas he had not. It was one of the many things he despised about his sister. There was meant to be a hierarchy of classes so that everyone knew where they stood and society was orderly and ran smoothly.

Freya had never cared about that. To her, people were people, whether they were peasants or nobles. He supposed he should have been grateful she was going to marry a man of some status since he would not have put it past her to wed a commoner. Aidan just did not understand her. Did he love her? She was his sister, so he supposed he had to, but he would never put himself at risk to defend her, and she had very few qualities that he found admirable.

Nevertheless, he could not bring himself to congratulate her.

* * *

Freya and Alex had a favourite spot where they liked to relax and enjoy each other’s company, well away from the hustle and bustle of the castle. It was on the shoreline of the little loch that lay at the bottom of the hill on which the castle stood, and they would sneak away there to be alone any time they found a free moment. In that place, they had the privacy to explore each other’s bodies, although things had never progressed beyond some intimate touching and kissing.