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And then another thought crept into her mind.
He was going to battle for her. For Edyington.
“I love you,” she murmured as he thrust into her so deeply that Freya had to bite her lip to remain quiet.
“And I love you,” he said just as Freya found release. With a moan that surely everyone in the hall heard, Rory pumped into her one last time. And then paused. “Dear lord, Freya. To think we can do that any time of day.”
After he pulled from her, Freya attempted to stand. Her legs were wobbly, but she managed it. Pushing down on her gown, she attempted to reposition it.
“Do you think they missed us?” she asked.
“If they did, so be it. We were discussing the very important matter of the council meeting. My parents knew I wished to tell you the moment it was possible. When Uncle Geoffrey arrived, it was clear this would not only be a wedding celebration but a call to arms.” He kissed her. “It pleases me, the possibility of giving Edyington back to you as a wedding gift. I will march into that hall myself and slit the throat of any man, including your brother, who thinks to challenge you as their lady.”
“If you could give me any wedding gift at all,” she said quietly, finding his hand, “it would be to show him mercy. There has been too much death already.”
He went so silent, Freya thought for certain Rory would argue with her. Since she’d told him what Eustace had done to Loretta, he’d made clear his plans for her brother. Odd since that was not the worst of Eustace’s crimes, but it seemed to be the one that had set Rory on this path to destruction.
She tried again. “The borders have become a more dangerous place to live by the day. Caught between two lands at war, I fear it will get worse before Scotland is, at last, free from Edward’s rule. More death will come, of that I have no doubt. Promise me, if there is a way to avoid it, you will do so.”
“He does not deserve to live,” Rory said, his tone so unlike the loving one from before.
“Nay,” she agreed. “He does not.”
Silence.
She had wished to wait, to tell him when she was certain, but now seemed the better time. “My breasts feel fuller than ever before,” she said. “I cannot know for certain yet, but . . . you were convinced that night we’d created a life inside me, and I believe ’tis so.”
She wished she could see his face. But it didn’t matter; Freya could certainly feel his lips as Rory kissed her. The tenderness in his touch, more gentle and loving than any touch before it, was all the confirmation she needed as to his thoughts.
He loved her, as she did him.
“I am so very pleased,” he said, “though unsurprised.”
“A life,” Freya said, “should not be celebrated with death. Unless, of course, ’tis unavoidable.”
“It will be as you wish.”
Her shoulders dropped in relief. “Thank you.”
“Nay, Freya. Thank you for loving me, for opening my heart once again. For agreeing to marry me”—his hand moved to her stomach—“and for our child who grows inside you even now.”
“’Tis a daughter, I believe.”
“Nay,” he said. “’Tis a son.”
Freya laughed at his certainty.
“Indeed,” she agreed, “a son. The son of a rogue.”
Epilogue
CONALL
“I will treat with him,” Conall’s cousin Rory said. “And Conall will come with us.”
After a sennight outside Edyington’s walls, they’d been discussing an attack using Freya’s knowledge of the castle to breach its walls. The longer they remained, the more time there would be for reinforcements to arrive. Unfortunately, those reinforcements would come from the king of England himself.
Thankfully, however, an attack would not be necessary.
