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“I wanted—” Freya stopped, annoyed at herself for not having a tidier answer ready. “I wanted him to sound different than he did that day when he first said good morning to me. All gruff, like I was one of his men.”

“And ye think he’d sound softer now?”

“I daenae ken. That’s the trouble of it.”

Brigid hummed, unconvinced, bouncing Archer gently. “Sounds to me like ye ken exactly what ye’re hoping for, me Lady. Ye just havenae the courage to say it plainly.”

Freya said nothing to that, because she didn’t have the words.

She then heard the heavy footsteps. Evander was approaching. Soon, he would be popping his head in to see how the babies were faring. Possibly to see how she was faring as well, but she wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

21

Evander walked in, careful not to step on Amelia, who was crawling around again. She raised her arms to him, and he picked her up.

Freya had to pause. The babies clearly had Evander wrapped around their little fingers, especially Amelia. She giggled, reaching up with her chubby little hands. When he swung her up, Freya felt something in her chest melt.

“Do ye think I remind her of her faither?” Evander asked.

Freya wished she had met his brother. All she knew about him were the small details Evander had dropped over their short time together. He didn’t like to speak about him, and she didn’t push. She knew how to discuss painful subjects and still want to leave them in the past where they belonged.

“It’s possible,” she replied.

She turned her head away, trying to hide her blush. For some reason, she always seemed to blush around him. And he was obviously delighted by it, judging by his smirk.

It was beyond frustrating.

“Did ye sleep well?” he asked.

Her blush deepened. “As well as one can sleep in a completely new place,” she said, avoiding his gaze.

He lifted her chin, forcing her to look at him. “I can arrange for another room for ye,” he offered.

Freya almost wanted to scoff at his response. Surely, he meant to have them share a room, but she wasn’t even going to consider that, let alone give the thought a moment’s notice.

“If ye think that’s the best way to handle this situation,” she said, but she couldn’t quite meet his eyes.

She had never been very expressive, certainly not as much as Skye. She used to be able to hide her emotions, but when it came to Evander, all of that flew out the window. It was impossible to gather her thoughts, let alone think, when he was around her.

Boots sounded in the corridor, and Callum and Jack appeared in the doorway together, though neither looked pleased about it.

“Me Laird.” Callum leaned against the frame, easy as ever. “The men are ready to train whenever ye are.”

Jack folded his arms, his face drawn and grey. “They’ve marched for weeks and buried friends besides. A cèilidh would do them more good than another bruising.”

“There’s no time to rest for a warrior,” Callum countered.

Evander glared at them both. Freya whispered in his ear that the bairns fought each other less than the two men did. He tried hard not to smile. His mouth twitched beneath his beard, and she found herself staring at it.

It was true. Freya would say it till she was blue in the face. The twins did fight less than these grown men did; they could take lessons from them in how to get along. She’d known many men like that in her life, much to her dismay.

“Train lightly,” Evander said, “and prepare a feast for tonight.”

The two men-at-arms glared at each other, then nodded, and each went to his task.

Freya laughed after them.

“Men,” she said, with a teasing glance at Evander. “All behave like bairns, no matter how big they get.”