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“I like it there, papa.” He said as he played with Reul’s mane.
“You and your mother will stay in it for a while.” After checking if the bags were tied firmly on the horse, he helped Freya up.
“And you?” His identical eyes turned to his father disappointed.
“I will go to the manor.” With decisive movements, he mounted Threuna. “We will all be reunited as soon as we can.”
“Will Loch live with us?” Little fingers stroked the horse’s neck.
“Yes. But you have to promise me you will take good care of her.”
“I will, papa.” Naturally, the footman would help him with that.
They rode down the track, leaving this lovely place behind. The rain of the previous days rendered it slippery, so they should be extra careful. Freya expected the trip offered no surprises. If they rode steadily, they might arrive in good time.
Two hours with the swaying defeated Ewan who fell asleep in his mother’s arms.
“Is he too heavy?” Drostan turned to his wife. “I can pull him to my horse.”
With a half-smile to him, she answered. “Thanks, but he is not too heavy. Not yet.”
He nodded and changed subjects. “I am assuming the attack we suffered on the road came from Ross too.” His stance had become serious.
“Yes, Ross told me he had a finger in it.” She owned.
“When did you plan on telling me about it?” His scowl left no doubt about his anger.
“I did not.” Their stares clashed.
“You would take this on you alone.” The accusation rang true.
“I was going to try.” She did if her running from Ross was any indication.
“Why?” Masculine fists pressed the reins. “Why did you not tell me anything before you left our marriage?” His old-whisky eyes hardened in the lead light. “Why did you not come clean when I found you?”
These were the questions she did not want to answer. A Laird threatened of death had all the right to attack the clan threatening him. Keeping him in the dark did not help his own safety, she was aware of it. At this, she did not balk at what to say, what to do. There was a possibility they went through winter and dealt with this only in spring. By then, a line of action might have occurred to her.
“You know why. I wanted to avoid a clan war.” She gave simply.
His irises darted fury at her. “Do you think I would be so irresponsible as to launch my clan into war without trying to find a reasonable solution to this?”
“What I know is that Ross would.” She devolved with certainty.
“Ross does not decide if the McPhersons go to war or not.”
“True.” She agreed. “But he does not play clean.”
“No power-hungry man does.” Right he was, naturally.
His life remained still in danger. That was all she had in her mind. Should Ross or James sniff them they would not hesitate to use everything available to reach their goal. Too many things were at stake here and she did not have the luxury of making a mistake and risking everything.
“No.” She uttered.
“You must promise me you will not hide anymore of this from me.” He demanded.
“You are not the only thinking head in our family.” Her nostrils inhaled deep air for patience. “The decisions concern us both.”
He twisted an obstinate glare at her. “Promise me, Freya!”
