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Ewan on her arms, she gave the glare back. “I cannot promise something I am not sure I will fulfil.”
“Bluidy hell!” He growled, raking his chestnut hair vexed.
To be frank, she could not promise something she already did not do.
“But you will inform me if you are with child again.” He said after a moment.
Her heart somersaulted with the idea. A joyous idea. It had taken a year for her to conceive Ewan. There should be little reason it would not be so a second time. “Yes, I will.” She compromised, understanding she would not be able to cope with two children if this dire state of things continued. She would need his support.
“if I miss out on my children ever again, I swear I will eradicate that bluidy Ross from the face of the planet.”
Freya looked directly at him then, figuring out he felt robbed of Ewan’s first years. “I did not
do it on purpose, I hope you believe it.”
“Of course I do.” Rage dripped from it. “But it makes nothing easier.” He faced ahead, giving her a grim profile.
“I reckon it does not.” And his pain made her want to cry a river of regret. She wished she had spared him this. It gave her the impetus to drive a knife into her kin herself.
She never stopped to consider how her husband would react to the fact they made a son. Clearly, he would not be happy to ignore he had an heir. Beyond this, she possessed no clues for how he would feel. Now she did. The whole affair looked much worse under this light.
The weather held as they made good time. Their cottage by the loch not so far as the manor, which meant they reached it by sunset.
Drostan took Ewan to his chamber and put him to bed. Their boy fell asleep a few miles back as he chatted and alternated horses most of the way.
Freya stood at the threshold watching her husband preparing to leave. There was no way she could take her eyes from him. A few days were too little after years of distance. And they would not see each other so soon.
Sensing her attention on him, he lifted his to her. They held it for long minutes, several undercurrents running between them. At last, he strode to her and banded her by the waist. Without a word, his sensuous mouth dived onto hers, and they locked in a long deep kiss that almost transformed her in a puddle at his feet.
He came up for air and their gazes merged anew. His lowered to her swollen lips. “Send word if you need anything.” He rumbled, lips touching hers, unwilling to go.
“Yes.” She had time to breath before he took her mouth in another deep kiss.
Finally, he gathered strength enough to mount his horse and ride with the remaining light.
CHAPTER NINE
Days later, Freya cooked by the fire when she heard Ewan giving orders to his toys and started banging the wooden horse on the wooden troll. The boy had been at odds since they arrived and she did not know how to make it better.
“The horse will pass!” He ordered the troll.
Worried, she crouched by his side. “What is it, my love?”
He did not look at his mother. “The troll will not let the horse pass to the manor.”
“What is there in the manor?” She asked, guessing the answer.
“The horse’s father is there.” It came as no news for her he missed his father.
“Can the horse not wait a little to visit his father?” The suggestion caused his beautiful eyes to go to her.
“The horse wants to go, and the troll is horrible!” He banged the horse on the troll several more times.
“Come, my love, let us walk by the loch.” She tried to distract him.
“No, no, no!” He burst into crying and screaming.
This young he was not yet familiar with every scale of possible feelings, or how to deal with them. He climbed to her lap, she cradled him in her arms, and let him cry as much as he needed. Missing a father was such a cruel emotion. She added one more imaginary stab in her kin.
