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Their wedding night had been here. Even celebrating during the whole day had not tired them. They had barely entered the chamber as their hands grabbed each other with a blazing passion worth of setting fire to the entire manor. After months of dissatisfying, too short encounters, the newlyweds had been alone at last. But those encounters showed her what to expect. More, what to lust after. Him. She had been rippled with an impatience that had made Drostan laugh, and then groan when they joined with unrelenting urgency. Goodness gracious! She could still feel him filling her inexperienced body, the pain forgotten, the pleasure heightened. The explosion shattering. Only on their almost immediate second time did they make it through foreplay.
Her frame jerked up to a late afternoon sun. Darn it! She did not plan to sleep this long. Even less going down memory lane. Checking her length, she saw the refined, frilly chemise she dressed. Her hand ran on the fabric reacquainting with the luxury. And imagining Drostan’s large hands sneaking under it along her eager skin.
Darn it again!
The fantasy got her jumping from the bed and rushing to select something to put on and go find her toddler. Mother and son must leave this place post haste.
A respectful rasp on the door brought a maid in as she curtsied. “The Laird requires you in the drawing room, my lady.”
Her son would have to wait. In front of the cheval mirror, she made sure her simplest and most demure dress was in place before heading down.
“Well, at least one McPherson lass has made it back home.” Fingal greeted her sarcastically.
Naturally, Freya did not miss the allusion to her cousin Fiona and how she did not resist the lure of the city and forgot all about her husband and son.
“It is good to see you, too, Fingal.” No need to raise to the bait and create friction with her brother-in-law. Her reasons would speak for themselves, had she the chance to reveal them.
He scoffed a side-smirk and his cinnamon eyes twinkled.
“Father.” She addressed Wallace. “Lachlan.” Her youngest brother-in-law. Both nodded at her.
Drostan sat casually on an armchair wrapped in his tartan, staring at her from up his hawkish nose. In this position, his tanned knees showed between his white hoses and the green, black and white plaid.
“You had an accident?” She demanded, forcing her eyes from his masculine frame to his attentive glare.
“I fell from the horse.” His low voice without inflection.
The rush of adrenalin, and fear flooded her veins and she blanched. “Fell.” She repeated numbly.
“I managed to hold Ewan firmly, and he fell on me unharmed.” The contribution did nothing to calm her.
“H-how did this happen?” The McKendricks were famous for their fine horseflesh and their skilled horsemanship.
“Ewan and I stopped at an inn for me to feed him breakfast.”
A public place where anyone might have identified them. Queasiness soured her stomach.
“We left, and a few miles ahead, Threuna reared and took me by surprise.” His strong hand raked his wavy hair.
“A villager found him passed out on the road, Ewan by his side trying to awaken his father.” Wallace intervened.
At this, Freya’s hand fumbled behind her to find an armchair, on which she sat slowly as her legs threatened to turn to jelly. Eyes bulged, the free hand on her mouth in sheer terror. “Are you hurt?” She asked her husband.
“He came by only this morning.” Lachlan spoke for the first time. “Father sent for Aileen. You missed her by minutes.”
“I spent the whole day looking for Threuna.” Fingal used to be quite fond of the McKendrick’s horseflesh. He had named the horse ‘Valiant’ in Gaelic. “Found him not far from here.” He volunteered with a strange look on his face.
The conversation got interrupted by a running Ewan barging through the door. “Mama!” He jumped on her lap while the nanny stood by the entrance.
“Here you are, my love.” She hugged the little boy tight, heart squeezing at the danger he went through.
“We had a big adventure!” Ewan started excited and chatted on telling it as if there had been nothing serious about the whole event.
The McKendrick men watched mother and son closely. Drostan did not disguise his pride.
“I brought papa home and met aunt Aileen.” He boasted.
“What a brave hero you are!” She praised him, kissing his forehead, and forcing herself to produce a faint smile.
