Before he realized what he was doing, he opened his mouth over that full bottom lip of hers and gently sucked. Freya’s intake of breath whispered between their mouths, and suddenly she was kissing him back.
He swept his tongue against hers, tasting the sweetness of jam tarts and honeyed tea and temptation. It would be too easy to cradle her head and tilt her face back, to deepen their kiss, to grip her body against the blaze of his.
But he was an honorable man, and he could not have this woman who was not truly his wife.
CHAPTER NINE
Ewan had apologized for kissing Freya. Profusely, and to her great dismay.
Yet still, four days later, she'd found it impossible to stop the memory from cycling over and over in her mind. She stared out to the barren field which had once been fertile and full of ripe hay. The chill of the winter air swept over her and blew cold against her blazing cheeks. The kiss.
The gentle tipping of her face to his, the tenderness in those soft blue eyes. He'd looked at her mouth, and she knew he would kiss her. Her stomach went warm, and everything in her had seemed to float when grazed by the heat of his mouth over her lips.
Her breath caught.
It had been such a wonderful kiss, beautiful - sweet even. And unexpected. As unexpected as her continued thoughts drifting back to it.
Then after...nothing. He’d apologized. Again and again. And again. She rolled her eyes. Then they’d spent the last four nights lying stiffly by one another’s side once more.
She much preferred the kiss and all the heart-pounding intimacy.
“Out here again?”
Freya looked over her shoulder to find Marian buried in a heap of cloaks and waddling in her direction.
Freya ran over to her sister. “Ye shouldna be out here, Marian - it's too cold.” She caught her sister's arm - or what she thought might be her sister's arm - and tugged her toward the barn.
“I'm fine,” Marian protested, but Freya continued to pull her until they were inside the large building with its empty stalls and rusting equipment.
The bit of Marian's face Freya could see was a mix of porcelain white skin with cherry red cheeks and nose. “Aye, that is better,” Marian conceded and lowered herself to an old wooden bench. “I brought ye a letter ye just received.”
There was a shuffling of cloaks, and Marian's hand emerged from a heavy curtain of wool with a creamy parchment pinched between her slender fingers.
Freya took the proffered letter, the heavy paper still warm from where it'd been cradled against Marian's body. “Ye dinna have to bring it out to me.”
“I know how much ye've been waiting to hear about Molly's.”
Freya's heart squeezed with her sister's consideration. While their mother was loath to even acknowledge that Freya ran a brothel, Marian spoke of it without so much as a blush.
Tears stung Freya's eyes. “I'm so sorry, Marian.”
“Ye've already apologized.” Marian pulled off her hat and her blonde hair stuck up in frizzy strands.
She was right. Freya had apologized. Probably as much as Ewan had. But saying she was sorry did not ease the pain of knowing she'd so deeply hurt her sister. She smoothed Marian’s hair down and kissed the top of her head.
“I dinna deserve a sister as good as ye,” Freya said earnestly.
“Ye're every bit as good as I am. Now read yer letter, I'm curious too.”
The seal on the letter had already been cracked open - not by Marian, but by one of the men who were responsible for delivering the letter. With the war going on, they didn't even bother to cover their tracks - not for the likes of a lowborn Scottish noble. Damn redcoats.
Freya unfolded the letter and immediately recognized the long, slanting curls of Alli's exquisite penmanship.
“It's from Alli,” Freya said aloud. She quickly skimmed the missive - not only for the words written, but also for the hidden meanings within. It’d been a code established between them the first time Freya left for the country to visit her family.
“She's well,” Freya read aloud. “All the girls are well at Molly's - that means they’re safe. The bar is well stocked - that means Molly's is also safe and doing well.” Her heart dropped three notches lower in her chest. “She says it's slow and I might want to enjoy my stay in the country longer.”
Freya lowered the note.
“What does that mean?” Marian asked.
“It means it's not yet safe for me to come back.”
Marian reached from beneath her cloaks once more, this time to grab Freya's hand with the comforting heat of hers. “Then ye need to stay with us for a wee bit longer. And at least everyone at Molly's is safe, and it will be there for ye when ye get back.”
Marian always did have a golden perspective of the world. It was one of her many admirable traits.
“I dinna deserve a sister as good as ye,” Freya said again.
This time Marian rolled her eyes playfully. “Says the sister who has sacrificed everything for us, and worked hard to keep us in our home and well cared for. For what it's worth, I'm glad ye'll be staying,” Marian said. “I know I shouldna have such selfish thoughts, but I love ye.” She stopped suddenly and jerked upright, dropping Freya's hand.
Alarm jolted through Freya. Every muscle in her body went tight and on alert. “What is it?”
A smile bloomed on Marian's face. “The babe. I think he’s dancing in here.” She laughed softly, her eyes sparkling with genuine joy.
She loved the child within her.
Freya remembered then what Ewan had said. The child would be a product of Marian's goodness, a symbol of love regardless of how it was placed in her womb.
“May I...” Freya regarded the bulk of the cloaks where the belly jutted taut beneath. The belly she had come to hate with a baby she hoped to love. And this would be the first step. “May I feel?”
Marian lifted her face slowly, her eyes lighting up. “Ye want to? Truly?”
Freya nodded, though in truth, there was a hesitation - a fear. What if Ewan was wrong? What if she could never love this baby?
Marian stood and parted her cloaks to reveal the overlarge blue gown beneath where her stomach swelled outward.
“My hands are cold,” Freya said, half hoping Marian would tell her it was unnecessary to touch her stomach.
“I dinna mind, and neither will he.” Marian smiled. “Besides, my stomach is hot as an oven. Mind ye dinna burn yerself.”
“No wonder he's wriggling in there then.” Freya drew her hands forward, slowly, carefully, until she met the bulk of Marian's stomach. It was indeed hot, a nice reprieve from the biting cold, and surprisingly hard. But then, it was full of a babe, all curled up within the protection of Marian's womb.
Marian placed her hands over Freya's, pushing her palms deeper into the firm skin. Something within pushed back. Freya gasped and tried to draw back, but Marian held her in place. There was another shift, a form within swelling and then fading back away. Then something hard, possibly pointed?
“I think I just felt an elbow,” Freya said, disbelief in her voice.
Marian laughed. “Aye, ye probably did. He loves to jam those things around inside of me. But then he's a healthy lad, strong and fiery. Like ye.”