Page 17
“Aye, and, they’d take any one they’re given. A Muir Lass with a laird for a braither and another laird for a braither-in-law will do just fine.” He paused. “She’s agreed to stay for three weeks.”
“Three weeks isnae a marriage,” Callum sputtered. “But I suppose three weeks is more than ye gave any of the other lasses.”
Evander gazed coldly into the distance. “Three weeks is all I need, and then we will part. The marriage will remain. I’ll convince her that it’s in her best interest.”
Callum huffed. “I wish I had yer confidence, me Laird.”
“It’s nae confidence, Callum. It’s a fact.”
Callum said nothing more, which was rare enough that Evander glanced at him.
His man-at-arms was looking down the hill toward the camp, where two hundred fires would be lit by dark and two hundred men and their families were waiting to be told where they’d sleep next winter.
“What?”
“Nothing, me Laird.”
“Callum.”
“It’s only…” Callum shrugged. “Ye’ve never needed to convince anyone of anything before. Ye just did the thing, and they followed. I’m nae sure ye ken how it works the other way round.”
Evander turned his horse toward the road.
“Then I’ll learn,” he said. “Quickly.”
7
The maid had rushed back in the moment Evander left. She was no longer holding the babe and was still trembling from head to toe.
“Me Lady, are ye all right?”
Freya wasn’t sure how to answer that. Physically, she was fine. Evander hadn’t laid so much as a finger on her. But inside, she was a mess.
She couldn’t believe what she had done—ending up in a marriage to a man called the Wolf.
Worse—and only heaven knew why—she had agreed to spend three weeks with him. Evander had three weeks to convince her that their marriage was worth staying in.
She certainly didn’t intend to make it easy for him.
“Aye, I am all right. Please leave me be.”
The maid scurried out, happy to be done with the situation, not that Freya could blame her.
The door had barely closed before it opened again.
“Freya!”
It was Skye. She should not be up and moving around. She just had a baby, for God’s sake!
“Skye, ye’re nae meant to be up—”
“Aileen says the Wolf was in me castle.” She stood in the doorway in her wrapper, one hand braced against the frame, white as the plaster and twice as stubborn. “The Wolf. In me castle. She also says he called ye—”
“Sit down before ye collapse.”
“—wife. She says he called ye wife, Freya, and that ye shook his hand. And then he left, and now ye’re standing here looking like ye’ve swallowed a wasp, so I’ll ask ye one more time. What? Happened?”
Freya crossed the room, took her sister by the elbows, and steered her firmly to the chair by the window. Skye let herself be steered, which said more about how she felt than any amount of shouting.
