Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
I t should have come as no surprise that his mother and the servants had managed to prepare such a feast in such a short time, and yet James was once again surprised by their determination to deliver the best possible result. When he entered the great hall, he found rows upon rows of tables, all of them almost buckling under the weight of the food the servants had piled on them. Torches burned on the walls, banners and tapestries decorated every inch of available space and the musicians were already playing a jolly tune as the first guests arrived.
James didn’t think any of this was necessary, but at the same time, he couldn’t possibly convince his mother of that. She thought it necessary and that was good enough for everyone else, so they had all scrambled to put this feast together under her guidance.
It was a way to welcome him back, she had told him; a way to celebrate the fact that he had made it back alive from his ordeal. But James knew better than that; his mother would grasp any opportunity to present Evelyn as the future Lady of the Clan, and what better opportunity than a feast? For his mother, this was as much about his return as it was about the marriage she so desperately wanted for him.
And yet, even as James took his seat at the head table, surrounded by his family and the Campbells, all he could do was glance at the doors every few minutes, waiting for the moment Freya would step into the room. Morgana had told him earlier that she had helped her dress for the feast and that he was in for a surprise, but as time passed, James began to worry that the surprise was that Freya would never come.
“Where is she?” he asked Morgana, his fingers tapping a nervous rhythm against the table. “It’s already been an hour.”
“I’m sure she’s on her way,” Morgana assured him with a small smile. “She only wishes tae look her best fer ye.”
She daesnae need tae dae anything. She’s already the bonniest lass in the world in me eyes.
And yet, he would never dare say that to a woman—especially his sister, who took great pride in the effort she put in her appearance. He could understand it; for women like Morgana, their looks were as important as any other diplomatic skill they held. His sister could wield her beauty like a shield as much as a weapon.
And perhaps that was precisely what Freya needed that day. If she looked the part of a noble girl, then perhaps those around her would be more willing to overlook her humble origins.
He had to give it to Morgana; when it came to such things, she knew what she was doing.
“Dinnae focus so much on what that lass is daeing,” his mother hissed through clenched teeth. “It is time tae focus on Evelyn. Look at her! Daesnae she look lovely?”
James glanced at Evelyn, who was sitting a few seats down, chatting with another young woman James recognized as the daughter of one of the councilmen. She looked lovely, indeed, in a light blue dress, with her golden hair flowing down her shoulders, but that meant nothing to him. Beauty was not the issue here. The issue was that he didn’t love this woman and he never could. His heart belonged to Freya, even if his mother refused to see that.
“I have naething against Evelyn, Maither,” James said quietly, so that only she could hear him. “But ye cannae force me tae love her.”
“All ye speak about is love!” his mother said with a shake of her head. “Dae ye think love matters more than yer duty? Dae ye think yer desires are more important than the future of our clan? Will love feed yer clan or protect it from war?”
“Maither—” said Edward from James’ left side, but James raised a hand to stop him. There was no arguing with their mother. There was no explaining to her that even if he married Freya, as he desired, the future of the clan would not be at stake.
So what if she was a commoner? It wasn’t entirely unheard of for men like him to marry commoners. Unlikely, yes, but not unheard of. Besides, as a capable healer, Freya could only be an asset to their clan.
For a while, James sat there, watching the door. But the longer Freya took to appear, the more he worried that something had happened to her. In the end, he couldn’t take the wait and the worry any longer, and so he stood, excusing himself from the table.
“Where are ye going?” his mother demanded, grabbing his wrist to stop him.
“Tae relieve meself,” James said with a saccharine smile. “Or is that nae allowed either?”
With a stern look, his mother let go of him and James took a moment to straighten his clothes before he pushed through the crowd and stepped out of the great hall. As the doors closed behind him, the sounds of the feast suddenly muffled by the thick wood, his worry only grew.
It had been too long since the feast had begun. The only thing that kept his panic from rising was the fact that Morgana had seen Freya earlier that day, which could only mean she was fine.
Roaming around the halls, James called out her name, listening carefully to see if there would be any response from one of the rooms. No matter how much he called for her, though, there was nothing to give him a hint, no sound or sight that betrayed her location.
He searched for ten minutes, then twenty, then half an hour, and still, he found nothing. With every step he took, his heart beat faster and faster, to the point where he feared it would jump right out of his chest and keep beating uselessly on the floor.
Just as he was about to give up and ask for help from the guards, he caught a glimpse of something strange from the corner of his eye. There, just at the end of the corridor, he saw a swish of green fabric followed by a guard. Running down the hallway, James caught up with him only to see that there was not just one, but two men, and they were carrying Freya.
Freya, who was unconscious, her wrists and ankles bound with rope.
“Stop!” he yelled at them, immediately reaching for his blade. These were men he recognized; MacGregor soldiers who had served under his father for years, not enemies who had disguised themselves as MacGregor soldiers to slip into the castle undetected.
They were his clan’s own men. They were men with whom he had trained.
And they were now his enemies.
To their credit, they didn’t try to fight him, but at the same time, they didn’t let go of Freya.
“Who put ye into this?” James demanded, but neither of the men spoke. They only stared at him in silence, their expressions blank and unreadable, their lips sealed.
James could only think of one person who had both the desire and the power to make these two men do this. And yet, even though the answer to his own question was on the tip of his tongue, he refused to utter it. He refused to even think about it, the implications too severe to consider.
It cannae be. Perhaps they were bought by someone. Perhaps they were bribed by the enemy.
Which enemy, James couldn’t figure out. And yet, there was surely someone who could have grasped the opportunity of this feast to attack. Or it could have been Alastair.
Out of everyone in that castle, he was the one who had the most to lose when it came to this marriage never happening. He was the most likely suspect, but James didn’t know how to accuse him of such a thing without hard evidence.
“Guards!” James called. “Guards!”
It took only moments for more guards to appear from all sides, the six men who made it to the corridor staring at the other two in surprise. They all glanced at each other, no one knowing what to say or do when faced with the possibility of having to attack two of their own.
“Take them tae the dungeons,” James commanded as he stepped up to the men and took Freya from them, holding her securely in his arms. He would not let anyone else touch her, not when he didn’t know who the enemy may be.
As the soldiers marched the two men to the dungeons, James carried Freya to his own rooms. His heart beat fast, bile rose to the back of his throat. The thought that something may have happened to her was too much to bear and as he laid her on his bed, he found himself suddenly drenched in cold sweat. To calm himself, he pressed his fingers against the pulse point on her neck, feeling the rush of blood in her veins. It was strong and steady, if a little slow, but that wasn’t enough to calm him.
Even though she was alive, she was unconscious, and as James looked for any signs of injury, he found blood, dried and crusted, on the back of her head. And the longer she stayed like that, the more James feared for her. He knew better than anyone what a hit to the head could do.
The healer… she’ll ken what tae dae.
Reluctant though he was to leave Freya’s side, James rushed out of his chambers to look for a guard to send him to fetch the healer. The moment he managed to find one, he returned to his chambers and ran to the bed once more, sitting next to Freya, who was still unconscious, but otherwise unharmed.
“It will all be fine,” he promised her, though she couldn’t hear him. He was mostly trying to convince himself, to reassure himself that she would soon be awake again. “It will all be fine, me love. Dinnae fash.”
Once, not so long ago, she had cared for him. Now, it was his turn to care for her.
James jumped, startled, when Freya woke up with a gasp, shooting up off the bed. The healer had placed a small jar of smelling salts under her nose and they had worked instantly to wake her—but also to make her cough and sputter as she was assaulted by the foul odor.
“There ye are,” said the healer, pleased with the results of her efforts. “How are ye feeling?”
Freya looked at the woman first, then at James, her brow furrowed in confusion. After a few moments, she winced, her hand flying to the back of her head where she had sustained the injury.
“What happened?” she asked, hissing in pain when her fingers found the wound. She looked at her fingers, but there was no blood there, as it had long since dried out. “Am I hurt?”
“A little,” the healer said. “But ye’ll be fine. Daes yer head hurt?”
“Och aye,” said Freya. “A little.”
“Ye were hit,” the healer explained. “By the looks of it, it was a dirk.”
With a pinched expression, the healer looked at Freya’s eyes carefully under the light of a candle. Then, she had Freya repeat a series of movements before she finally let her lie back down, satisfied.
“Ye’ll be fine,” she assured her. “I’ll give ye something fer the pain and dress the wound, but it daesnae seem like ye’ll have any long-lasting damage.”
James was familiar with everything the healer did, as Freya had done the same to him when he had woken in her hut. Still, it wasn’t until the healer said everything would be fine that he breathed a sigh of relief, the fear draining out of him.
Once she had cleaned and dressed the wound, James and Freya were finally left alone. He had no idea what had happened at the feast, nor did he care. He was certain his father had been informed of everything, but other than that, he didn’t know if the feast had come to an abrupt end or if it had continued so as to not raise any suspicion among the guests.
“How are ye feeling?” he asked Freya as he settled next to her, pulling her in his arms. Freya burrowed close, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as he held her.
“I’m alright,” she assured him. “More scared than anything else.”
“I cannae blame ye,” he told her as he pressed a tender kiss to the top of her head. “Forgive me… I should have kent something was wrong earlier.”
“Ye couldnae have kent,” Freya pointed out, craning her neck to look at him. “Dinnae blame yerself fer this, James, please.”
“I’ll protect ye. I promise,” he said, disregarding her reassurances simply because he couldn’t help but blame himself for all this. “Naething like this will ever happen tae ye again.”
He would make sure of it. No matter what, he would never leave Freya out of his sight until he knew for certain she was safe within those walls.
With a sigh, he cradled her cheek to pull her closer and kiss her soft lips. It was only meant to be a quick peck, but Freya clung to him, holding him close as she deepened the kiss, much to James’ surprise.
Still, he gave her what she wanted, licking the seam of her lips and letting his tongue slip past them. When she moaned, he let out a soft chuckle, pulling back to look at her.
“What is this, lass?”
Blood rushed to Freya’s face, turning her cheeks a pretty pink as she shrugged, trying—and failing—to look nonchalant. “Naething,” she said. “I just wish tae feel ye close tae me.”
“Is that so?” James teased, thinking this was his opportunity to lighten the mood. He let his gaze roam over her body, now calm enough to appreciate for the first time that night just how good she looked. “Ye ken… it’s such a shame that ye never made it tae the feast. I’m sure ye would have enchanted everyone.”
Freya’s blush deepened, cheeks turning crimson under his attention. “Well… I dinnae care about enchanting everyone else. I only care about enchanting ye.”
“Ye did that a long time ago,” James said as he let his hand roam down her body—over her shoulder, down the swell of her breasts, following the curve of her waist. Freya arched into the touch, lips falling open as she gasped. “But I dae wish I could have shown everyone how pretty me lass is.”
“Am I yer lass?” Freya asked with a small smirk, her fingers pressing against his stomach.
“Are ye nae?” James teased, leaning in for another kiss.
Even now, his intentions were pure, as he wanted Freya to rest and doubted that she would want anything more than this simple affection. He was ready to pull back once more, but before he could, Freya slung her leg over his hip, pressing against his thigh with a soft moan.
“Freya… shouldnae ye rest?” he asked, running a hand through her hair where it had fallen out of her updo.
“I’m fine,” she mumbled against his lips, chasing them for another kiss. “Please… I want ye.”
And how could James refuse such a sweet request?