Page 35 of The Madam’s Highlander

“There really was no other way?” he asked from beside her.

She stopped and turned to him. Heat blazed in her cheeks at his ignorant statement, and in that one moment, she wondered how she'd even allowed him to kiss her. “Apparently, ye've no' paid much mind to the jobs open to a woman. Judge me if ye want - for owning a brothel, for selling sex, for being a virgin who peddles whores, but I never meant for any of this to happen. And I’m damn proud of what I’ve done.”

She stepped toward him and pushed her finger into his hard chest. “I imagine ye thought deserters of the military were awful sinners before you became one yerself. The black and white of the world is harder to see when your own life blurs into gray.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but she strode onto the porch and into the house, her steps sharp on the wooden floorboards. She slammed through the front door and marched over to the fire to warm her cold, red hands. Her fingers shook where she held them to the heat.

In fact, her insides quivered as well, lit by the force of her defense, the true understanding of what had transpired between them, the power of her emotions swirling through her. Excitement, anger, fear, elation, attraction, frustration - an overwhelming mix of everything conflicting.

Her gaze wandered to the closed door. It did not open.

She had expected Ewan to wander in and come after her with an apology. She stared harder at the door, willing it to open, willing a stubborn man with too much moral fortitude for any one person to walk through it and call out to her with a much-deserved apology.

It remained closed.

She crossed the room in a petty huff and looked out the square pane of glass to the gray, dead world of winter outside. Her heart went heavy and dipped low in her chest. Ewan was gone.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The light of day had long since faded before the front door finally did open. In that time, Freya had consumed enough tea to make her bladder slosh and enough little cakes to render her nauseous. Then there had been the prattle between Ewan's mother and her own. The ailments, the balms and cures, and the discussion over how life had been twenty years prior.

Marian had headed into town earlier that day and had not yet returned either.

It had not concerned Freya until the world outside faded to dusk.

But then at last, the door opened. Freya leapt from where she'd perched on the seat beside the mothers. Only it was not Ewan who strode in, but Captain Crosby with Marian.

She sagged against him, her face pale. Even Captain Crosby’s usually rigid composure bent toward her.

“Marian.” Freya ran to her sister and eased her from the captain's hold.

The mothers leapt up from their seats as one, albeit a bit slower.

“Captain Crosby, what is the meaning of this?” Ma demanded.

The captain released Marian with obvious hesitation.

Freya shot a hard look up at him. “What's happened to her?”

“It is imperative I speak with you alone at once.” His gaze swept over Marian's pale face. Her lashes fanned over her cheeks like shadows and she swayed unexpectedly, upsetting Freya's balance.

“I want to know as well,” Ma said.

“As do I,” Lily declared. “And where is my son?”

Freya cast a glance at the English officer, who gave her a subtle shake of his head. He wanted to speak to Freya alone.

Freya had failed at nearly everything she attempted at her life in Callander, but this was where she excelled - turning a crisis into a manageable situation.

“Captain Crosby, I need yer help in bringing her to her room.” She regarded the two older mothers who fluttered around Marian like anxious hens. “I'll need ye two to see to her while I speak with the captain. No one knows more about ailments and their cures like ye ladies.”

The mothers looked at one another and nodded in silent agreement to Freya's praise. But Captain Crosby did not aid Freya in getting Marian to her room. He lifted her into his arms as if she were not massively huge with her pregnancy, but as if she weighed nothing at all. “Please show me to her room.”

Marian gave a mewl of protest, and her head fell limp against the captain's red wool jacket.

Freya led the way as quickly as she could with the captain following just as quickly. No sooner had he laid her in bed than the mothers descended upon her, barking their orders to the servants.

“Is she all right?” Freya asked anxiously.