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“Then I suppose we’ll be traveling early.”

The scowl on her face seemed to deepen with every word he spoke. She might have expected pushback, but he wasn’t going to give it. Not today.

“Ye’re nae wearing me ring.”

“Nay.”

“That’s all right, wife. Ye’ll wear it soon enough.”

They traveled on separate horses. Evander had not expected her to agree to share one with him. A thin wind came down off the hills, smelling of rain and bracken, and she rode with her cloak pulled tight and her eyes fixed on the road ahead.

“What do ye expect of these three weeks, wife?”

She turned and gave him a long, flinty look. “If I told ye, it wouldnae be a fair test, would it?”

“Fair enough.”

He let the silence settle. It lasted perhaps a quarter mile before she broke it.

In fact, she started bombarding him with questions.

Evander had no problem answering them. He had nothing to hide. His reputation, whether he wanted it or not, spoke for him all across the Highlands.

“Do ye have any siblings?”

Hearing her tone, it was as if she didn’t expect him to answer.

Admittedly, he didn’t think about his brother very often. They hadn’t spoken in some time after his father banished him from his lands.

His brother had made his decision, and Evander had made his. He had left Malcolm behind with nothing but a promise, and not a day passed that he didn’t wonder whether his brother had forgiven him.

“One braither.”

He half expected Freya to ask more questions about his brother, such as where he was and when they had spoken last, but to his surprise, she changed the subject.

“Do ye hunt yer own food?”

“Aye. Is that a problem?”

Freya rolled her eyes. “Nay, it isnae a problem. I’ve never hunted as much as ye and yer men, but I’ve hunted with me braither and faither in the past.”

He wasn’t surprised. Had anyone else said that, he would’ve been, but this was Freya, the feisty woman who had married him on that raucous night. The feisty woman who had kept him on his toes from dusk until he woke to an empty bed.

“Have ye really killed as many people as they say?”

He didn’t answer.

Freya huffed. “Hunting’s a fine way to pass the time, I suppose, if I’m to be saddled with a husband who willnae even chat with me.”

Evander lifted an eyebrow. “So yer ideal husband is someone who chats away?”

“It’d certainly help me start trusting him,” she said, lifting her chin.

“Then ye’ll be disappointed. I’ve never chatted in me life.”

She frowned. “Ye’re chatting now.”

“I’m answering. There’s a difference.”