Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Freya woke up with the taste of Michael still on her lips, with his scent still enveloping her like a warm embrace. Just a single memory of his hands on her was enough to send a million little goosebumps down her spine, tickling her delightfully.
Michael.
She rolled to the side, yawning languidly. She outstretched her hand, expecting to find his god-like silhouette slumbering next to her, but to her surprise, her hand met only cold, unforgiving sheets. There was no sign of him.
Her eyes widened momentarily. There was no trace of that calm serenity that had her in its arms only a moment ago. Her heart sank at his absence. Had the previous night meant nothing to him?
Refusing to torture herself with such thoughts, she rose and got dressed quickly.
She didn’t want to acknowledge the sting of rejection, but that was easier said than done.
She left her chamber and made her way down the corridor, trying to calm down her steps despite the turmoil desperately churning inside her.
When she reached Cody’s room, she knocked lightly before easing the door open. He was already dressed, playing with his toy soldiers.
“Mistress Freya!” he called, his voice hoarse but stronger than it had been in weeks.
Relief washed over her, pushing Michael—and her bruised heart—briefly from her thoughts.
“Good mornin’, me wee fighter,” she said softly, forcing a smile as she sat on the edge of the bed. “How are ye feelin’ today?”
“Splendid,” he grinned.
She smiled back. “I’m very happy to hear that. Now, how about we take a walk, down to the loch?”
“A walk to the loch?” he repeated, his eyes wide with delight. “Truly?”
They usually took strolls through the garden and nearby woods, but Laila had told her about the loch and seeing that Cody had been feeling better and better with each passing day, Freya thought it would be a good idea.
Freya laughed softly, smoothing a curl from his forehead. “Aye, truly. If ye’re feelin’ up to it—and only if ye promise to take it slow.”
“I promise!” Cody jumped, throwing away his toy soldiers.
“Easy now!” Freya scolded, catching his shoulders and gently steadying him. “We’ll go after ye’ve had somethin’ to eat, and I’ll need to fetch me sisters.”
Cody settled, though his legs still kicked under the covers in anticipation. Freya’s heart warmed at the sight of him so full of life again. The days of worrying if he’d draw another breath in the night seemed almost like a bad dream now.
Almost.
Her hand lingered on his forehead, brushing his hair back, and her thoughts strayed again to Michael.
He’d been so steadfast during Cody’s illness, always at his side, always asking after him.
It was one of the reasons she’d come to care for him, though last night had made her feelings far more complicated.
She pushed the thought aside and forced herself to focus.
“Now, I’ll let the cook ken ye’ll need a good breakfast,” she said, standing. “And I’ll fetch yer cloak and boots before we go.”
Cody’s grin grew wider. “Do ye think Marissa and Abigail will come?”
Freya smiled. “Oh, I’ve nay doubt they’ll come. They’ll jump at the chance to fuss over ye and chatter about nonsense.”
Cody giggled, clearly pleased at the idea of being fussed over.
Freya lingered at the door, watching him as he hummed to himself, his hands fidgeting with the blanket. The sight filled her with warmth, but there was an ache beneath it, too, a longing for the family she had always wanted.
But that was a dream for another time.
For now, there was Cody, her sisters, and a rare day of peace by the loch. She clung to that thought as she left the room, determined not to let doubts about Michael, or the tender ache in her chest, ruin the morning.
About half an hour later, Freya sat at the long wooden table in the great hall, her smile fixed firmly in place as her sisters chattered and Cody practically bounced in his seat.
The smell of fresh bread and porridge filled the air, but her appetite was lacking.
She stirred her spoon absently, glancing toward the door every few moments, though she knew better than to expect Michael to appear.
He wouldn’t.
The servants had already mentioned that he was shut away in his study, “tendin’ to urgent matters. Had it been a mistake? Had she been a mistake?
“Freya?”
She blinked and turned to find Marissa staring at her, concern etched across her face. “Ye’ve hardly touched yer food.”
“I’m fine,” Freya said quickly, forcing a smile. “Just distracted.”
Marissa didn’t look convinced, but before she could press further, Cody interrupted, waving a piece of bread in the air. “Freya, do ye remember who was yer first patient?”
The boy’s question was simple, but it still caught her off guard.
“Me first patient?” she echoed, as if tasting the words. It had been such a long time. And it had been a story not often told.
She knew what he meant. Not the first person she’d helped with a knee or a fever, but the first time it truly mattered. The first time she had been the difference between life and death.
Freya’s fingers brushed absently over the dainty little spoon.
“He was another laird’s guard. Barely more than a lad, really.
” She swallowed, the image of the young man in her mind, his pale, bloodied face and the way his breath felt shallow.
“I was young meself, nae much older than he was, and I just started learnin’ the healer ways. ”
Cody leaned forward. “What happened to him?”
“He’d been wounded in a raid,” she explained. “A sword to the side, deep enough that another healer thought he wouldnae last the night. But I wouldnae accept that.”
Cody’s brow furrowed. “Ye saved him?”
“I tried,” she nodded. “I stitched his wound meself, though me hands were shakin’. I mixed herbs, I cooled his fever, I stayed by his side when he was too weak to even speak.” She paused for a moment, then she smiled. “And he lived.”
Cody’s smile followed immediately after. “So ye did save him.”
“Aye,” she nodded softly. “It was then that I learned healin’ is more than just mendin’ wounds. That lad carried his pain in more ways than one. Sometimes, what a person needs most is nae just steady hands, but someone to be there, someone who truly sees them.”
Everyone went quiet for a moment, then Cody asked again. “Did ye ever see him again?”
Freya shook her head. “Nay. He went back to his life, as all men must. But I like to think that he is livin’ a good life.”
Cody seemed satisfied with the story. “I think he remembers ye fondly.”
Her smile widened. “I like to think so, too.”
That was when he remembered their morning plan. “Can we go now? I’m done!”
Freya let out a soft laugh, grateful for the distraction. “Ye’ve crumbs all over yer face, lad. Finish properly first, or ye’ll nae get to the loch at all.”
Cody groaned but obeyed, shoveling the last bites into his mouth as Abigail giggled beside him.
The sight eased some of the tightness in Freya’s chest. Whatever her worries about Michael, today wasn’t about him. It was about Cody and the chance to enjoy something light and carefree after so many weeks of fear and uncertainty.
When breakfast was done, Freya and her sisters packed a small basket with food—fresh bread, cheese, and apples—and bundled Cody up in his cloak. The boy practically dragged them out of the hall, his excitement infectious.
The morning air was crisp but bright as they made their way toward the loch, following Michael’s strict orders that if they were to go for any walks, several guards should be present. Freya’s boots crunched over the frost-tipped grass, and the wind teased strands of her hair loose from her braid.
Cody darted ahead, laughing as Abigail chased after him, while Marissa walked at Freya’s side, her arm linked through hers.
“It’s good to see him like this,” Marissa said softly. “He’s looked like a ghost these past weeks.”
Freya nodded, her eyes following Cody as he ran toward the water’s edge. “Aye. It’s a blessin’ to see him strong again.”
Marissa hesitated, then added carefully, “And what of ye? Are ye well?”
Freya stiffened, but her sister’s gaze was too kind to brush off. “I’m fine,” she said, though the words felt hollow.
Marissa arched a brow. “Fine?”
Freya swallowed hard and looked away. “I daenae ken,” she admitted finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “I thought—” She shook her head. “It doesnae matter.”
Marissa squeezed her arm. “It matters if it troubles ye.”
Freya opened her mouth to respond but stopped as Cody’s laughter rang out again, echoing across the water. The sight of him chasing after Abigail, carefree and smiling, made her heart ache—and yet it also reminded her why she couldn’t let her doubts consume her.
“It’ll be fine,” she said more firmly, giving Marissa’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “Let’s enjoy the day, aye?”
Some time later, Freya sat on the blanket, her gaze fixed on Cody as he splashed happily at the shallow edge of the loch, his laughter ringing out in the crisp air.
Marissa and Abigail were nearby, helping him skip stones across the water.
The three of them were lost in their game, and for a fleeting moment, it felt like everything was perfect, the world outside their small circle forgotten, and only the sound of joy and the warmth of the sun mattered.
But even as she watched them, something inside Freya shifted.
The guards stood at the edges of the meadow, silent sentinels who flanked her and her sisters at every corner. They were always there, always watching.
Unexpectedly, Cody approached them. He stood before one of the men, who was broad-shouldered and clad in dark leather.
“Do ye ever get scared?” she heard Cody ask.
As it did her before, the question took the man by surprise as well. The man chuckled first, then replied. “Aye, lad. Any man who says he doesnae is either a liar or a fool.”
She liked that answer and she continued to listen intently.
Cody on the other hand, didn’t seem all that satisfied with it and needed more clarification. “But ye fight anyway?”
“Aye,” the guard nodded, lowering himself to the boy’s level. “Because bravery is just fear that doesnae get the last word.”
She had to admit that she liked that even more. Even Cody was satisfied this time. He nodded, then ran back to the girls.
In that moment, a realization hit her like a weight she couldn’t shake.
This is nae real. None of this is.
She had fooled herself, believing that someone like Michael, the laird of the clan, could see her as more than just a passing distraction, a fleeting moment of warmth in the cold solitude of his responsibilities.
She had dared to think he might want her by his side, that the stolen kisses, the quiet moments in the dark, might somehow lead to something more.
But no. He had never promised her anything. He had never given her any reason to believe she could be more than a brief indulgence for a man weighed down by his duties.
Her chest tightened with the truth, and though the loch sparkled in the sunlight and the sound of her sisters’ laughter was sweet in the distance, Freya felt a coldness settle in her bones.
She had been living in a fantasy. A fleeting, beautiful fantasy.
She had allowed herself to believe in something that wasn’t meant for her.
The guards, the estate, the careful distance Michael kept—it was all a reminder of what her place was in this world.
She wasn’t the kind of woman a laird would choose to marry, not when there were so many others who could give him more: status, alliances, children who would be born to rule alongside him.
Her heart clenched at the thought.
She had always known her time here wouldn’t last forever. That’s what she told herself. But she had convinced herself, even so, that she could belong… at least for a little while.
But now, looking around at the guards standing in their silent formation, Freya knew it was time to return to reality.
She couldn’t keep living this dream.
A quiet voice in her mind whispered that she should be grateful for the time she had, for the warmth of Michael’s touch, for the rare moments of tenderness he’d shown her. But another part of her, one that was tired of pretending, knew the truth: the laird was not for her.
The fantasy, like the fading light of day, would soon be gone.