Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
I t cannae be.
Freya rushed out of the keep, her feet taking her back into the courtyard on their own accord. She could hardly see anything around her, the tears that gathered in her eyes blurring her vision, and as she ran, she almost fell straight into more than one servant, who had to step aside to avoid her in her mad scramble.
Servants… there are servants.
James is ? —
There were so many things she couldn’t believe; an onslaught of information that seemed entirely impossible. There were so many things James hadn’t told her, so many things he could have warned her of but chose not to.
And then there was that woman—Evelyn. His betrothed. The woman his parents had chosen for him.
She was beautiful; tall and regal, with blonde hair cascading down her shoulders and a pair of hazel eyes that seemed to pierce right through Freya as she stared at her. Not only that, but she was the kind of woman who had been trained from birth to become the wife of a laird, the Lady of a clan. She was the kind of woman everyone expected James to marry.
And she was nothing like Freya.
The chilly morning air did nothing to pull Freya back to reality. Her chest heaved with every breath she took and ached with the weight of everything she had just found out. Her knees trembled and barely held her upright. Reaching out, she steadied herself against the first thing within her grasp—a large pillar that supported the awning over the main door of the castle, the stone cool and rough under her fingers.
She focused on that one sensation, trying to bring herself back to reality. She forced herself to take deep breaths, but they burned her lungs and her stomach churned at the memory of that woman and James’ family.
“Freya!”
James’ familiar voice rang out in the courtyard, but she didn’t turn to face him. She didn’t even look at him until he was standing right in front of her, his hands on her shoulders. “Please… please, say something.”
“Is this why ye bedded me?” she spat, but her tone was laced with despair rather than anger. She was furious; of course she was. Her rage flowed through her like fire, setting her alight. And yet, there was a part of her that still hoped that James hadn’t betrayed her, foolish as it was. “Is it because ye kent ye would come back tae her? Ye thought ye could enjoy me and then come back here tae wed her?”
“What?” James asked, scoffing in disbelief. “Of course, nae! I wouldnae dae that, Freya, I swear it. I swear it tae ye. Ye heard what I said to me parents! I kenned naething of her!”
Freya cared little about his oaths. It wouldn’t be the first time someone had lied to her or had disappointed her. If anything, she was painfully familiar with betrayal. All the people she had considered her family and friends on that island had betrayed her when they had come after James. Why should he be any different?
Perhaps they had been right about him. She shouldn’t have put all her trust in James. She truly didn’t know him at all.
Why didnae he tell me who he was when he remembered? Why keep such a thing from me?
Freya couldn’t understand it. If he had known he was the heir of Clan MacGregor from the moment he remembered his name, then why had he kept it hidden from her? What was it that he feared? Or did he simply wish to keep secrets from her?
What else was he keeping?
“I promise ye, I willnae wed that lass,” James continued, but Freya was only half-listening. Even with his hands steadying her, she was dizzy, weak. She felt like she needed to sit and collect her thoughts, but James was relentless as he held her there, still talking. “Why would I bring ye here if that was what I wanted? Why bring ye with me? It’s ye I want, Freya. I promise ye. I brought ye here tae make ye me wife.”
I suppose he could have discarded me whenever he wished.
Even so, how could she believe him when he had lied to her for so long?
“Why didnae ye tell me who ye are?” she demanded. “Why lie?”
“I didnae lie,” James said defensively. “I… just didnae tell ye the whole truth.”
“That’s the same thing!” Freya pointed out, throwing her hands up in exasperation and pushing James off her at the same time. She didn’t want him touching her; she didn’t want him anywhere near her, not when the sting of his betrayal was still so painful. “Ye had chance after chance tae tell me who ye are, but ye chose tae hide it from me. Why? Why dae this?”
For a long time, James was silent, his gaze dropping to the ground beneath his feet. When he looked back up at Freya, his features were twisted with pain. “I dinnae ken,” he admitted. “I thought… I was afraid tae lose ye, I wanted tae tell ye once ye were here.”
It wasn’t a good enough answer for Freya. With her hands on her hips, she took a few steps away from him, putting even more distance between them. The mere sight of him only served to worsen the ache in her chest, the sense of betrayal tightening around her like a vise.
“I didnae ken about the Campbells,” James said. “I didnae. I didnae ken anything about this afore we came here.”
“Ye didnae ken ye were betrothed?”
“Nay,” James said without hesitation. Freya didn’t want to believe him, fearful that he was once again lying to her, but he seemed so earnest, so truthful that she couldn’t help it. “I kent me parents and the council were looking fer a wife fer me. But I never kent they would find someone so soon or bring her here without consulting with me first. It was never meant to happen this way. I was meant to have Saint Cuthbert’s blessing and then find a wife, like every other man in our family.”
James had said as much already to his parents, so Freya could at least believe that. But if that was his family’s tradition, why had his parents rushed into it? Why bring a woman James had never even met before consulting him?
“I dinnae understand,” she said, her voice quiet and meeker than she had heard herself in years. She wasn’t this kind of woman; she wasn’t meek and she certainly had never let anyone else treat her like that.
What a fool love has made of me.
“Please… anything ye want, I’ll dae it,” James said as he approached her once more, though with some hesitation—as though he were approaching a spooked animal. “Anything ye want of me, Freya. Just believe me when I tell ye I would never hurt ye.”
Freya regarded him with some apprehension still, but she didn’t pull back this time when he took her hands in his, bringing them to his lips to press a kiss to her knuckles. He looked even more desperate than she felt, his eyes wide and pleading, his fingers twisting tightly around hers. And still, she couldn’t find it in her to trust him—at least not entirely.
“I dinnae ken what I want,” Freya admitted, though she was being a little untruthful, too. She knew that she wanted him and that she wanted the woman and her uncle gone, but she couldn’t ask for that. The only reason she was even allowed in this castle was because of James, and without him, his parents would not hesitate to throw her right out—especially his mother, who had taken one look at her and had surmised she was a servant. Evelyn was a guest, too, but she was a noble-born woman. She was one of them, while Freya was an outsider.
“Then I’ll tell ye what I want,” said James. “I want tae marry ye. I want tae be yer husband and spend the rest of me life with ye, even if it means making an enemy out of me parents. Naething has changed fer me, Freya… I still love ye more than anything in this world.”
Freya looked at him with her eyes wide, the confession shaking her to her core. He had spoken such words to her before, of course, but now that she knew the truth about him and his origins, his promise seemed to have more weight than ever. He was willing to risk it all for them. He was willing to throw everything else away just to be with her.
But how could she ask that of him? How could she ask him to abandon his family and his clan if it came to it, just so they could be together?
“Come,” he told her, taking a few steps back towards the main entrance. “Let us head inside. It’s cold out here, ye’ll catch yer death.”
The last thing Freya wanted was to go back into that keep, but now that her panic and her rage had both begun to subside, the chill seeped into her bones. Reluctantly, she followed James back inside, dreading the moment she would have to face his entire family once again.
But when they stepped inside, everyone but his brother and sister had left, and Freya couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. She didn’t know what his siblings thought about all this, but it surely couldn’t be worse than his mother’s thoughts on the matter.
If anything, they just seemed happy to know he was back safe.
“Where did they go?” James asked before they had even reached his siblings. “I’m nae done with them.”
“Maither and Faither went upstairs and Evelyn and her uncle went outside, tae the gardens,” his sister said. She, too, was a beautiful woman. With her brilliant green eyes and black hair, she resembled their mother more than the two brothers, but Freya was still stunned to see just how much they all resembled the woman. “But perhaps this isnae the best time tae speak tae any of them.”
“I disagree,” said James. “I think now is the perfect time. I have a lot tae tell, about what happened while I was gone.”
Once again, Freya found herself standing behind James rather awkwardly, waiting to be acknowledged. Her heart beat so fast that she feared it would burst right out of her chest and her temples throbbed with pain from all the tumult of the day, so the longer she remained unseen and ignored, the better it was for her.
Naturally, it was right then that the young woman addressed her.
“Forgive us,” she said, stepping forward. “I am Morgana, James’ sister, and this is Edward. And ye are?”
“I’m… Freya,” she offered. “Freya Webster.”
“Me savior,” said James, almost speaking over his sister. His two siblings stared at him in surprise, James’ intensity giving them pause. “She’s the only reason I’m here now, alive.”
Freya’s cheeks heated uncomfortably under the scrutiny from the two siblings, and James’ words hadn’t helped at all. That one word carried so much weight on it that Freya could hardly stand the attention it had brought her.
She couldn’t decipher the looks on the siblings’ faces. Other than the shock of the revelation, there was nothing else that she could see, nothing that she could read.
Morgana nodded a few times and then, as if remembering herself, she gave Freya a warm, welcoming smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet ye, Freya. Perhaps ye would like me tae show ye yer chambers. Ye and me braither will have time tae tell us all once ye have rested a little.”
Me chambers?
“Aye, please, Morgana,” James said. “I’ll speak with our parents while she rests.”
“I dinnae think—” said Freya.
“Please,” James said, this time addressing her. He, too, seemed exhausted and Freya couldn’t help but worry about him and his state after everything that had happened to him in the previous month. He was still in recovery; any sort of excitement, good or bad, was bound to have a profound effect on him.
“Ye should rest too,” she said in an attempt to ensure he wouldn’t fall ill again.
“I will,” he assured her. “Once I’ve spoken tae me parents.”
Freya realized that that was something James had to solve himself, and the more she insisted and tried to meddle, the worse it would be for them both. So, instead of insisting, she simply nodded and followed Morgana as she headed up the stairs, waiting at the landing for her.
To Freya, it seemed as though she were walking to the gallows.