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It struck him, standing there, that a lesser woman would have handed the twins to a nurse and washed her hands of the whole business, bargain or no bargain, without a second thought. Freya had not done that. She had barely let either child out of arm’s reach since the moment she’d lifted one from the wet grass.

She looked up and found him standing there, watching. Something passed between them, quiet and unnamed, and she pressed a finger to her lips, nodding toward the boy now finally gone slack and heavy against her.

He nodded in return, then left her to it, easing the door shut behind him with more care than he’d used on anything in years, carrying the sight of her back to his cold room like something he meant to keep.

Watching her hum to the boy, he wanted, for the first time in years, a home.

Sleep did not come easily. He lay staring at the dark rafters for a long while, listening for any further sound through the wall, and found himself absurdly disappointed when none came, as if some part of him had wanted an excuse to go back and stand in the nursery doorway a while longer.

He had known a great many kinds of quiet in his life. The quiet after a battle. The quiet of a father’s bathhouse, water going still. This was a different kind entirely, and he did not yet have a name for it, only the sense that he had not felt it in a very long time, and wasn’t at all sure what to do with it now that it had found him again.

He thought of her voice through the wall, the boy’s weight against her shoulder, the finger pressed to her lips, and felt something in his chest loosen that he hadn’t known was clenched. Then he thought of her in that thin nightgown, the linen clinging to her damp skin.

When sleep finally took him, it took him straight back to her.

Evander drew her close, kissing her deeply and tasting himself on her lips. She gave a soft whimper, pressing herself against him with urgent need. The friction between them was nearly unbearable, and so he turned them, settling her beneath him on the bed.

Freya did not hesitate. She parted her thighs in quiet invitation, her body open and willing. In another moment, he might have lingered there, learning the taste of her, yet desire urged him onward.

When at last he joined with her, she cried out softly, and he groaned against her mouth. He claimed her lips once more, muffling the sound so that no one else in the castle could hear.

The twins were sleeping nearby, and the thought of waking them brought a flush of caution. Though Evander was so far gone at this point that he doubted it would have worked. He was willing to risk waking them up.

Once fully inside her, he stilled, overwhelmed by the closeness. Every instinct demanded he move, to take her with abandon, yet he held himself in check a moment longer.

Freya kissed him, her arms winding around his shoulders. Her breath brushed his ear, almost undoing him.

“I shall nae break,” she whispered. “Have ye forgotten how strong I am?”

“For a moment, aye,” he answered, his voice rough.

A shudder ran through her at his words. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and her face twisted in pleasure in a way he had pictured many nights.

What little restraint remained shattered at her words. He growled low in his throat and began to move, each thrust deep and sure. She cried out again, her head falling back, the slender line of her throat bared to him.

He pressed his mouth to that soft skin, trailing tender kisses as their bodies moved together.

She found her pleasure first, her body tightening around him. He followed soon after, holding her close as the wave overtook him.

Afterward, he withdrew carefully and settled beside her, unwilling to burden her with his weight. They lay quiet for a time, breath slowing, thoughts drifting.

“Are ye all right?” he asked eventually, his voice gravelly.

Freya flushed at his tone, shivering ever so slightly. She turned onto her side and met his gaze. “With this? Aye. With all else that surrounds us? Nay.”

“I hope it offered ye some small comfort,” he said softly.

Evander awoke feeling frustrated. He rolled out of bed, resolved to train. It was a way to get out that energy and try to forget the dream.

Leave it to Callum to find out early that morning. He stared at Evander, his eyes full of questions that Evander didn’t want to answer and comments he didn’t want to hear.

“Keep yer thoughts to yerself,” Evander warned. “I daenae want to hear it.”

“Ye… look frustrated, me Laird.”

He growled. “What did I say, Callum? Have ye gone deaf?”

“Nay, me hearing’s fine.” Callum grinned, the kind of grin that had gotten him thrown out of more than one tavern over the years. “I’m simply making an observation. A man doesnae pace the length of the corridor at dawn, muttering to himself, unless something’s gotten under his skin.”