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She didn’t understand that an insult to her was an insult to him.

“It isnae, and ye ken it.” She shifted Archer higher. The boy had found the end of her braid and was chewing on it, the scratch on his brow already forgotten. “Jack has ken the bairns their whole lives, Evander. I’ve ken them a few days. If I were him, I’d doubt me too. He has every reason to doubt me parenting skills after only kenning me for a few days.”

Evander’s jaw tensed. “Ye’re defending him?”

Jack had always treated him like this. Never seemed to care for him, always loyal to his brother to a fault. It had been fine, up until he turned that attitude on Freya, which was not something Evander was willing to accept.

“I’m saying that trust takes time.”

“He accused ye of wanting the lad gone. Of making way for yer own son. I daenae understand how ye can stand there and defend such a thing.”

“Aye, I heard him. I was standing right there, Evander. Ye daenae need to repeat the entire conversation to me.”

“And ye’d have me let that slide?” he growled.

“I’d have ye nae lift a man off his feet over it.”

“He’s lucky I only lifted him,” he muttered.

Freya gave him a long look. “Is that meant to comfort me? Because it is doing the opposite, husband.”

Evander met her gaze. “It’s meant to tell ye how close he came to pushing me too far.”

“What does that mean, Evander? Ye want him to lose his head over a few harsh words? Ye are being ridiculous!”

“Over saying them to me wife.”

She opened her mouth and closed it. “Ye cannae throw every man who looks at me sideways against a wall.”

“I can try.”

“Evander, ye must be reasonable.”

“This is me being reasonable.”

Freya narrowed her eyes. “Evander⁠—”

“He still needs to remember his place, wife.” Evander shook his head. “He served me braither well, but that doesnae give him leave to speak to ye like ye’re a stranger come to rob the cradle.”

“I am a stranger to him. Whether ye want him to respect me or nae doesnae change the fact that we havenae ken each other long enough.”

“Ye’re the lady of this castle.”

“For three weeks.”

There it was. The reminder of their arrangement.

Three weeks. She had told him that on the way to the makeshift camp he and his people had called home. He had thought⁠—

Nay, it doesnae matter what I thought.

The words landed between them like a dropped blade. He let them lie there for a moment.

“For as long as ye’re under this roof,” he said evenly, “ye’re me wife, and they’ll treat ye as such. Let it slide once, and the whole castle will be whispering that me wife cannae be trusted with the bairns.”

Freya went still. He watched her turn that over.

“Ye were thinking of me,” she said slowly.