James felt his irritation getting the better of him. It was far from the first impression his family would want him to make to their guests, but he couldn’t help it. He had come to the castle prepared to fight his family and the council on his decision, but he had not been prepared to find a woman there, waiting for him. This only complicated matters, and James couldn’t believe that his family would have arranged this betrothal without even informing him of it first. They had not even put it on hold while awaiting news of his survival after the incident. “I didnae agree tae this betrothal!”
For someone who had been so relieved and ecstatic to see him only moments prior, his mother’s face twisted into a grimace of rage. She didn’t even know what had happened to him in the month he had been away nor did she seem to have any interest in asking him. James hadn’t managed to explain anything to them yet, but it didn’t seem to matter to her at all. All that mattered was the fact that he had just embarrassed them in front of the highest-ranking members of an allied clan.
It’s always about politics with her. It’s always what is proper and what is right, but only as long as she considers it right.
Evelyn and Alastair Campbell both seemed at a loss of what to do, and so did the rest of James’ family. His brother and sister looked at each other with the same concern in their eyes, undoubtedly thinking that he had lost his mind.
“This is preposterous!” Alastair said, once he had regained composure, his short yet bulky frame pushing forward to step closer to James and stare him in the eye. Venom dripped from his words. If there was one thing James knew for certain, it was that this was not the kind of man who would take a rejection lightly. “If ye think me niece or I will tolerate this kind of treatment, then ye are all sorely mistaken. Laird MacGregor, is this how ye treat all yer guests?”
“Please, forgive me son,” his mother told the Campbells, giving them a saccharine smile that was surely meant to placate them. “He is very tired from his travels and has been through much, as I’m sure ye can see. Let us let him rest and then we can discuss?—”
“There will be nay discussion,” James insisted. “I already told ye I dinnae agree tae this marriage.”
“Yer agreement is irrelevant,” his father said then, his booming baritone echoing like thunder in the entrance hall. Everyone there fell silent; for a moment, it seemed to James as though every other sound had ceased. “Ye’re the future heir of this clan. Yer betrothal isnae a matter of preference! This is a matter related tae the clan and ye will dae what is best fer its future.”
“Faither—”
“I willnae hear it!” His father shouted. “I’ve already heard enough from ye. Now that ye’re back, we can finalize the betrothal and ye will dae what is right.”
James stared at his father; his lips pursed into a thin line. In all the chaos, James had forgotten that Freya was standing right behind him, hearing everything his family had said, but now that he heard her ragged breathing in the sudden quiet, he turned around to look at her and found her teary-eyed.
“Freya—”
He didn’t know what to say to her, but it hardly mattered, as she whipped around and rushed out of the keep. And no matter how much James called after her, she did not stop.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
It 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.
