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Rory needed little prompting to listen to his uncle. He was striding through the hall toward her when a squeal—for there was no other word for the sound—rang out from where his sister and female cousins were huddled. Rory turned toward the sound, catching Rylee bounding up from her seat. Following her gaze, he realized the reason for his sister’s excitement. His uncle Neill and aunt Kathryn had just arrived. But it was their two lovely daughters by their side that Rylee responded to: his cousins Aelina and Emmeline. Rylee ran toward them as he reached Freya.

Lifting her hand to his lips, knowing it was the only proper contact they could have here, in full view of a growing crowd of people, he greeted her quietly. “I would touch these lips to other places, if you would but get rid of the maid.”

“’Tis mere days we wait,” she said. “Surely you are not so impatient that such a time is too long?”

With the murmur of voices around them, of Rory’s family and friends, the thought of marrying and making love to a woman like Freya . . . he supposed, if necessary, the wait was one torture he could endure.

Rory dropped her hand. “If I must,” he said. “You cannot be convinced?” Freya darted a glance to his mother, whose conspiratorial look back provided his answer. Surrendering, for now, he said, “I would introduce you to my family.”

Just then, a cheer rose up from the hall’s entrance.

“Oh my,” Freya said beside him. “He is your father’s twin.”

Servants and retainers alike bowed as his uncle Geoffrey and aunt Sara made their way into the hall.

“My father would take offense.” Rory laughed. “But ’tis true enough. Behold the Earl and Countess of Kenshire, as I’m sure you know already. Beside them, my cousin Haydn and his wife, Lady Phillipa. Next to her, my cousins Hugh and then Haddie. I am unsurprised Holt is not in attendance. He is held up, I’m told, on a mission in the South.”

“Though you and your sister are twins, you look more like your Waryn cousins than your sister. Aside from the dark hair and striking blue eyes.”

“You think my eyes striking?”

“I will not compliment you further,” she chastised. “You’ve already a high opinion of yourself.” As they spoke, Rory and Freya made their way to his cousins. His aunt and uncle had moved to the dais already to greet his father and mother. Though Haddie had already sought out his sister, Haydn and his wife waited for them to approach.

“If there was one in our family I’d not think would marry, ’twould have been you,” Haydn said. “Though I am glad for it. You remember my wife, Lady Phillipa?”

“I do indeed,” Rory said, taking and kissing his new cousin’s hand. “I trust you find your days with Haydn dull? I did warn you.”

She laughed. “Anything but, I can assure you.” Phillipa peeked at Freya, and Rory introduced the women.

“Your mission was to aid Lady Freya in finding her men, not to seduce the poor woman into believing you are anything but a scoundrel,” Haydn said.

“Do not believe him,” Rory said to Freya.

“I fear ’tis much too late for that,” she said in response, making both Haydn and Phillipa laugh.

Now that Geoffrey and Sara were here, his soon-to-be wife would learn the truth soon enough. It was time. Rory excused them from his cousins.

“Before the meal officially begins, I would speak to you briefly. Alone.”

Unsurprisingly, Freya appeared confused. As she’d been that night in the solar when they told his parents of their plan to marry. The night his mother had whispered something so surprising that Rory nearly leapt from the chair.

But now, the time was upon them.

His family was gathered, and they were at least willing to consider his father’s plea. Aye, they were here for a wedding. But to have left their homes at such a turbulent time . . . not even a marriage of one of the Brotherhood’s sons would prompt a gathering such as this. Until today, they’d been unsure who might come. Without a majority in attendance, the council would not happen. And Rory could never disappoint Freya that way. At least, not so soon.

And so, he waited. They waited. Until now.

“Your family will wish to speak with you,” she said as they escaped from the hall to the most private spot he could find without venturing far.

Rory spoke quickly. “I did not wish to tell you until we were certain they would come. My father especially warned me not to disappoint you. He said there was a real possibility too many would refuse.”

“Rory, you speak in riddles. What do you wish to tell me?”

Rory took her hands, the excitement bubbling within him as he looked into her eyes, not wishing to miss Freya’s reaction.

“My father,” he began, “asked me once if I loved you. Before I’d been able to admit as much to myself. Or to him.”

“I do not understand . . .”