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“We should go back to the McKendrick.” Drostan said. “It is not possible for me to be absent for long. Winter is on our heels.”
“I do not think Freya and Ewan will be safe in it.” Taran opined.
“No!” Nobody missed Freya’s worried tone. “They will find us, for sure.”
“She is right.” Aileen agreed.
“What do you suggest?” Drostan’s challenging question set the room in silence for long minutes.
The women sipped tea. The men drank the whisky. Everyone reflected on the question.
“Why not hide them in plain sight?” Aileen spoke at last.
“How so?” Freya questioned.
“Did this Ross find you in the cottage by the loch?”
“Yes.” Freya gave all the signs it was an ugly memory.
“So he is not prone to look for you there again.” Aileen reasoned.
“You are suggesting they go back to it?” Taran had a glint of admiration in his green ey
es when he turned to his wife.
“For the winter, at least.” Aileen completed.
“It is not a bad idea.” Drostan added and sought his wife’s gaze.
“I do not know.” She mused.
“It is only two miles from the manor.” Drostan pondered. “Which means I can be around.”
“Watch out, McKendrick.” Taran interposed. “They might follow you.”
“There is that, too.” Aileen said.
Drostan raked his chestnut waves, causing them to shine in the firelight. He must keep a distance from his wife and son if they decided on this plan. Their safety lay above everything.
The three of them stared enquiringly at Freya, her doubts spelt over her pleated brows and twisted hands. “It makes sense that Ross will not look for me there.” His wife started. “With the added advantage that few people travel in the snow for no important reason.”
“Exactly.” Taran said. “Though you can stay here as long as you want.”
A slight smile came to Freya’s full lips. “Thank you.”
“We should leave tomorrow, I suppose.” Concluded Drostan none too comfortable with the idea of staying away from his family.
As they finished sipping their tea and whisky, Ewan skipped inside. “Uncle Taran, we hunted a huuge hare yesterday.” His little arms stretched to show the size.
“Indeed, young man, my lands are good for hunting.” The McDougal jested. “Did you cook it?”
“Yes, papa taught me how to do it.” He sat by Aileen, rummaging his pockets, from which he took a deep red hydrangea—probably the last of the season. “This is for you, Aunt Aileen.”
The mahogany haired lass inhaled the flower and smiled at the boy. “Thank you so much, my dear.” And kissed him on the cheek.
Freya held a mellow gaze on the wee one while Drostan revelled in his wife’s softness.
The five of them ate luncheon together, and when finished, the McDougal couple took their leave.
