Page 7 of The Madam’s Highlander

All the greater disappointment when it pulled him in a direction he did not want to go.

Ewan strode through the doors of Molly's with the late afternoon sun still burning bright in the sky. His stomach gave a sick twist at what he intended to do. This was not why he'd joined the regiment in the first place. He'd meant to be a good man, to undo the sins of his father and protect his mother.

Several girls lingered inside Molly's, lounging near the bar. They quickly brightened at his appearance, like dolls brought to life with eyes sparkling and glossy lips pulling back into smiles.

He nodded at them in greeting but briskly approached the bar. “Tessa, I'd like to speak with Freya if she's free.”

The blonde behind the bar quirked a grin at him, amused. One of the ladies gave an excited giggle.

“Aye, I'll send one of the girls to fetch her.” Tessa nodded to the giggling girl with a hard look of reproach that softened when she turned back to him. “Will ye be wanting some tea?”

Ewan shook his head. The idea of tea made the twist in his stomach wrench even tighter. “Nay, thank ye.”

The girl smothered a laugh once more before being run off with the snap of a bar towel.

Molly's was a different world in the daytime. The harsh light seeped through the heavy drapes to reveal cracks in the white plaster ceiling and the fraying of the silk cushions. The walls of sultry pink in the evening were a sad, faded red by day, with several pieces chipped at the corners.

“Captain Fraser.”

The austere purr pulled his attention back to the bar. Freya stood beside it, her brow lifted in expectation.

For the ugliness daylight revealed in Molly's, it unveiled even more beauty in the woman standing before him. Creamy skin beneath the peppering of freckles over her nose and cheeks, glossy red hair, pink full lips.

Her eyes weren't hard sapphires, but instead were soft, like a sunlit summer sky. She'd traded the cinched silk gown for a simpler blue cotton one, albeit the dress was lower cut than was proper. She'd also left off the wide skirts popular among women, so the fabric hung around the natural shape of her hips.

“Did ye want to speak with me?” She spoke slowly, as if she found him daft.

Given the way he was staring dumbly at her, it was no wonder. “Aye, in private,” he said at last.

She studied him for a long moment and heaved a delicately drawn out, long-suffering sigh. “Of course.” She did not invite him to follow her, but turned away from him and strode stiffly to her office. The lines of her long legs showed beneath the skirt of her dress, disappearing and reappearing with each clipped step.

Once again Ewan could not stop his gaze from sneaking over Freya's figure. There was something tantalizing about the shape of a woman's body beneath a gown, without the embellishment of a structured cage and coiled padding. Ewan's face went warm and he realized he was staring. Again.

Freya showed him into the office. A shutter was thrown open and allowed a stream of sunlight to slice into the room, revealing a sea of dancing motes in the air and the stillness of all else.

This time Freya did not sit down, nor did she offer for him to do so either. Instead she stood before the closed door like a sentry, her arms folded over the swell of her bosom. “Well, what did ye find out about me?”

Surprise choked him into silence. This was not how he had anticipated the meeting going, with a confrontation rather than slowly teased out secrets meant to lure her into acquiescence. He had planned a smooth shift from no into yes - this was an abrupt jerk.

“Ye're a good person.” He spoke before he realized what he was saying.

Freya gave a mirthless smile. “Ye seem surprised, Captain.”

“Ye're a madam.” He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth.

Her gaze was no longer a sunlit summer sky, but a frosty winter morning. “And ye're a traitor to his country who intends to extort a woman to do his bidding.”

The word plunged into him like a white-hot blade and stabbed repeatedly.

Traitor. Traitor. Traitor.

Like his da.

No.

He was not his da. He'd joined the Black Watch to clear his family's name. To keep them safe. To be a better person than his da had ever been.

“I am no’ a traitor.” His control slipped and a bite of rage nipped at his words.