Page 46

He told himself it was curiosity, nothing more, the same instinct that made him study a battlefield before committing to a move.

But he knew better, even as he reached for the door. He’d spent the better part of their time together cataloging her—the sharp tongue, the soft laugh she thought she hid well, the way she went still and careful around the twins as though they were something precious enough to break.

He wanted more of her—all of her—and he was tired of pretending that wanting was something he could set aside.

Freya had been less than pleased to realize he was standing there. She had been shocked, but he merely smirked, not bothering to hide how pleased he was to see her in the bath.

He turned, because he was a man of his word, but turning did not block out the sound of water sheeting off her skin, or the soft slap of her feet against the stone floor, and his imagination filled in what his eyes were denied with considerably more detail than was good for him and his ability to stand there looking unaffected.

Despite trying not to imagine it, he squeezed his eyes shut and pictured her sitting there in the water, barely shielding her body from view. It had been a poor attempt. The water did nothing to hide her body; it only added an intriguing shimmer to the curves of her back and hips and⁠—

Enough of that, Evander.

He still had to bite back a growl of appreciation.

The swell of her breasts peeked tantalizingly above the water. He made a disappointed noise when she sank further into the water, hiding herself from him. But he had seen enough to picture the rest of her.

“I’m ready,” she called at last.

He turned back to find her in a nightgown so thin it might as well not have existed, clinging to every line of her the bath had left damp, her hair loose and dark over one shoulder.

He was fairly certain the maids had chosen that particular nightgown on purpose, and made a note to find out which of them and thank her, or possibly dismiss her. He hadn’t yet decided which.

His cock stirred to life, despite his resolve not to react to the sight of her in that nightgown. It was impossible to look away from the fabric clinging to her curves, outlining her hips, ample bosom, and pink nipples.

He bit back a groan and cursed inwardly, hoping it would provide a distraction from the sight of his beautiful wife, but all it did was make him want to pull her closer and feel her soft body against his.

He cleared his throat. Looked at the window. Looked at the far wall. None of it helped in the slightest. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, and he didn’t have a single word for it.

“How did the meeting go?” she asked, settling onto the bed as though this were the most ordinary thing in the world, two people discussing their day rather than a man and a woman who’d been married for less than a fortnight by accident of whisky and a priest.

He told her briefly about the treaty talk and the borders still to settle. She told him about her afternoon with the twins, something about the girl refusing to leave hers or Brigid’s arms.

They lay there afterward in a silence that felt, for once, almost companionable, the kind of quiet two people shared when they had stopped performing for each other, however briefly.

He’d never told anyone about his day before, and he liked telling her.

“This is very different from what I thought,” she said eventually, staring up at the canopy rather than at him. “We had three weeks to learn each other. Now we have three weeks to learn two bairns and a whole clan besides, and I’m nae certain any of us kens what we’re doing.”

“Daenae feel obliged to any of it, wife. Ye’re here to decide if ye want this, and that’s all ye owe anyone, meself included,” Evander pointed out. “It hasnae changed simply because I have to take in me braither’s children and clan.”

He didn’t want to be reminded that it was his clan. Evander had left it behind many years ago. It was hard to call it his clan when they hadn’t protested once when his father banished him.

“Be that as it may, ye cannae think I’ll stand apart from ye or the bairns while I decide. I need to ken ye first, properly, if I’m to decide anything worth deciding.”

“Is that so?”

“Aye, that is so.”

“That’s nae what we agreed on.”

“What do ye mean?”

“An heir. Separate lives. Ye keep yer freedom, and I keep mine,” Evander reminded her.

It was what he wanted, and what he thought Freya wanted: neither of them to be tied down by the illusion of love.

Marriage was a necessity for the clan, but love was a prison. His father had taught him that after losing his mother. The man had never been the same, overtaken by the grief of losing his wife. It had turned him into a man Evander didn’t recognize.