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“I think ye are a bit confused, wife.”
“Daenae accuse me of being confused, husband,” she muttered. “Ye are the one who is confused.”
Evander’s smirk widened. “How am I the one who is confused, Freya? Ye are clearly charmed by me, or are ye simply unaware of it?”
She sniffed. “I’ll have ye ken that I am a very canny woman. I’m aware of precisely what I think about ye.”
He hummed thoughtfully. “Then I suppose that means I’ll have to charm ye harder.”
She lifted her chin and met his gaze with those wild eyes. Determination flashed in them. “How will ye charm me, then?”
Evander didn’t answer with words. He had never been much for words. Action was where he thrived.
He slowly closed the distance between them, giving her every chance to step back. Her eyes widened for an instant, but then she lifted her chin again and waited. The stubborn set of her jaw told him exactly what she was thinking. She’d given him a dare, a challenge to change her mind.
She might not win that challenge as easily as she had thought.
He cupped her face in one hand and kissed her.
The first thing he noted was how she tasted of the mead she’d been sipping all evening. For one brief moment, she went still beneath him, almost as if she couldn’t believe that he dared to kiss her, but she didn’t remain motionless for long. Her hand found the front of his shirt, fisting in the fabric, before she kissed him back fiercely.
It undid him more than any softness might have.
Evander had meant it as a demonstration, as a way to prove his charm was no idle boast, but the press of her lips against his scattered all thoughts from his head. He forgot about Callum, the people around them, and every plan he had.
She made a small sound against his lips, and he bit back a growl. His hand slid from her jaw into her hair, tilting her head just slightly.
Freya let him. She followed his hunger with one that matched his own. It was as if the wall between them had finally given way and neither of them cared to put it back up, not for the moment at least.
Evander didn’t want the kiss to end, even though he hated to admit it. This was so far from what he had intended, but she had goaded him into it. She pushed and demanded to know how he could charm her.
Now she was finding out exactly how he intended to do it, and there was no pushback from her, not one bit.
Somewhere beyond them, the pipes kept playing. Evander was dimly aware of cheers rising up, of whistles and stamping feet and Callum’s laughter rising above the rest.
He didn’t care. Let them look. Let every man who had bowed over her hand tonight see exactly whose wife she was.
Freya’s fingers tightened into the front of his shirt, holding him there as though she feared he might pull away.
He would not.
He kissed her slower now, deeper, learning her the way he’d learn new ground before a battle. She tasted of mead and defiance. Her soft curves fit against his hard chest as if she’d been made for him.
12
The first thing Freya should be asking herself was what the hell she was thinking.
She always liked to have the last word. It had followed her since she was a lass. Skye liked to say that she was too spirited, usually just before describing her latest outburst in detail. Kaden claimed that one day it would get her into a situation she couldn’t get herself out of.
Perhaps both her younger sister and elder brother had been right. Freya was starting to feel out of her depth, and it was entirely Evander’s fault. His beard scratched her face, likely leaving it red, but she found she didn’t mind at all. If anything, she liked it.
That was her sign that she had to end this. If this continued, she was going to lose herself faster than she had ever intended.
This was supposed to last three weeks and three weeks only. Twenty-one days, and she would make her way back home with this marriage annulled. It would be as if it had never happened, though with the way Evander’s lips devoured hers, she wondered if she was being foolish and naïve.
Three weeks had sounded like nothing when she’d agreed to it, a brief inconvenience to be endured and then forgotten, a story she might tell her grandchildren one day with a laugh and a shake of her head.
She hadn’t accounted for this, for the way Evander said her name like it meant something, for the steadiness of his hands as though he had all the time in the world and intended to use every second of it on her.
