Chapter 32
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
T he events of the day before had shaken Freya to the core. She couldn’t help but look over her shoulder every waking moment. She was. Just waiting for the moment something terrible would happen, and the anticipation and fear exhausted her.
The only thing that seemed to help was having James by her side, but even then, her heart raced and her hands trembled as fear coursed through her.
That morning, she had found him in the drawing room with Morgana and Evelyn, the three of them speaking quietly over a cup of tea. The moment she entered the room, James stood and approached her, taking her hands in his.
“Are ye alright?” he asked. “Ye look terribly pale.”
“I’m alright,” she assured him. “I’m only… only frightened. I cannae keep living like this, James. I’m afraid of every small noise, every shadow. Naething seems tae help.”
For a moment, James was silent as he considered her words. Then, he asked, “What if I assign someone tae guard ye? Our men are excellent fighters. Ye’ll be safe.”
Freya shook her head. Even if those two men had been the only ones Alastair had managed to bribe, she didn’t want to risk it. The mere thought of ending up in the same position frightened her beyond words.
“It will only make me feel worse,” she said. “But I dinnae ken what tae dae
“Trust me,” said James. “It will help. I’ll have me best man look after ye.”
Freya was reluctant to agree, but James seemed certain it was the best solution. She couldn’t think of anything else, so in the end, she simply gave a slow nod.
“Alright,” she said. “But I’d still rather be with ye.”
“I’ll try tae be with ye as much as possible,” James promised her. “But I have duties I must tend tae.”
“What if I take ye fer a walk, Freya?” Evelyn offered. “Perhaps some fresh air will help. And I’d like to see the gardens one last time afore I leave.”
After the morning’s altercation between James and her uncle, the latter had decided to leave as soon as possible. James had just been explaining what had happened to Evelyn and his sister and apologizing profusely for how things had turned out between them.
That’s right… Evelyn and Alastair are leaving on the morrow.
That gave Freya some peace of mind, at least. Though she had come to like Evelyn, she couldn’t help but be frightened of her uncle.
“A walk sounds lovely,” she said.
Freya followed Evelyn out of the room and out to the courtyard. It was a pleasant morning—not sunny, but at least not as cold as the previous days. She and Evelyn walked side by side in silence for a while, Freya not knowing what to say to break it.
What was there to tell the woman who was meant to marry the man she loved, but now never would? There wasn’t much that could be said between them. And yet, even the silence was pleasant, comfortable. She and Evelyn seemed to have a deeper understanding, one that didn’t require any words.
It wasn’t until they rounded a corner that the silence was broken, but not by either of them. Freya came to an abrupt halt as she caught sight of Alastair and Kathryn, and when she exchanged a glance with Evelyn, she knew she was thinking the same thing—they had to get closer and find out what they were discussing.
Slowly, they approached the two, trying to remain as unheard and unseen as possible. Hiding behind a large bush, Freya and Evelyn stayed quiet as they listened.
“Bring the lass tae the gardens,” said Alastair. “Pretend ye wish to make amends and lure her out here. I’ll dae the rest.”
Freya glanced at Evelyn, her heart racing in her chest. She could hardly believe Alastair was still plotting, and not just that, but now James’ mother was involved as well.
Kathryn looked at Alistair with surprise and started to answer, shaking her head.
“Wait here,” said Evelyn as she emerged from the shadows of the shrub and marched over to the two of them. From where she was crouched behind the shrub, Freya could hear and see all three of them perfectly, and she didn’t miss the angry look on Evelyn’s face.
“That’s enough, Uncle!” Evelyn said. “I willnae start me marriage with someone else’s blood on me hands. Naething is worth this madness! I dinnae care about the alliance. I dinnae care about the wedding. I simply wish tae leave all this behind.”
“Evelyn—”
“I willnae hear it!” Evelyn said, interrupting Alastair. “This has gone on fer long enough. James daesnae want this and now neither dae I. We will leave on the morrow, as planned.”
A few more quiet words were exchanged among the three of them, and this time, Freya couldn’t hear any of it. But by the time they were done, Kathryn’s head hung low.
“I’m sorry this wedding willnae happen,” she said. “I truly believe ye were the best match fer me son. But I agree with Evelyn, this has all gone too far. I willnae participate in a plan tae hurt or murder the girl, as much as I dinnae want her tae marry me son.”
Evelyn didn’t return the sentiment, and Freya could hardly blame her. Surely, she didn’t want to be part of this family.
Freya herself didn’t know if she wanted it. Had she not been so in love with James, she didn’t think she could ever stand his mother.
As Alastair and Evelyn walked back to the keep, Kathryn paced around in a small circle—until her gaze fell on Freya, who was still crouching behind the shrub in fear. Freya only had the chance to stand to her full height before Kathryn was right in front of her, her hands on her hips as she stared her down.
“Dinnae misunderstand what ye just heard me say,” her voice dripping with venom. “Ye will never be the Lady of this clan. We will disown James afore we allow that tae happen.” Freya could hardly believe the hatred in the words that came out of her mouth, and she was too stunned to say anything in return.
And just like that, Kathryn walked past her, never once even giving her the chance to respond—not that she could have. Freya had nothing to say, not to that.
How could she argue with her when she threatened to disown James? Freya knew just how much the clan meant to him. She knew just how seriously he took his duties and though he had refused to wed Evelyn, he would surely be devastated if he lost the lairdship.
It was the one thing he knew how to do—be a laird, a leader, a warrior. And Freya, no matter how much she loved him—or perhaps because she loved him so dearly—would never be the reason why he would lose his clan, his birthright.
Though it pained her more than anything, she had to leave.