“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.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
“What dae ye mean she’s gone?”
James stared at Morgana with wide eyes, his heart threatening to burst out of his chest. He had been sitting in the drawing room, a cup of wine in his hand, waiting for Edward to meet him so they could discuss the events of the past days since the Campbells had left the castle, when Morgana had run into the room, clutching a piece of paper in her hand.
“I mean she’s gone, James,” Morgana said, shoving the piece of paper at him. “She left. Maither threatened tae disown ye and Freya left tae stop it.”
James perused the note Freya had left, in which she told him that she would never be able to forgive herself if he was disowned because of her and that it was better for her to leave and for him to forget about her. Rage coursed through him as he crumpled the paper in his hand, his heart now leaping to his throat at the thought that she may be long gone.
I must find her
Perhaps she was going back to the Isle of Rum. Maybe if he jumped on the fastest horse he could find, then he could catch up with her and convince her to come back.
He couldn’t let her go. No matter what his mother had said, no matter how much she threatened them both, James wouldn’t let Freya go.
If this is how me maither wishes tae act, then I will act accordingly.
Rushing out of the room, James barked orders at the guards to find his mother. It was only moments later that she appeared in front of him, summoned by all the commotion, and though James was certain she knew precisely why he wanted to speak to her, she showed no signs of remorse.
“I cannae believe that ye would dae this,” James growled, desperately trying to keep his rage in check. “I cannae believe that ye would threaten us like this! All me life, ye’ve been preparing me fer the role of laird and now ye will take everything away from me because I wish tae wed the woman I love?”
“I’m nae taking anything away from ye,” said his mother calmly. “Ye’re the one who is throwing it all away for a lass. This is all yer fault.”
James shook his head. “I cannae believe this. I truly cannae believe ye.”
“And I cannae believe ye would be so foolish as to fall for the charms of that lass!” his mother shouted. “Was bedding her that good that ye would throw everything away?”
James had nothing more to say to his mother—nothing that wasn’t a terrible insult, nothing that he could ever take back. There was no point in arguing with her; she would never listen. What was more important was finding Freya.
“I’ll go find Freya,” he said in a low, dangerous tone. “And when I come back, I expect an apology, and I never want tae hear ye speak of her like that again. Dae ye understand?”
