Highlander's Trials of Fire

“Do nae try to distract me,” she was thankful that her voice was steady while her heart thudded.

“I’m nae. I want ye to ken that at least.”

“Thank ye.” The pleasure she felt was insurmountable. The aim had been to hear those words. She had hoped it would be accompanied with a tender embrace, perhaps a gentle kiss that would lead to something steamier, but for now, she would be content with just that.

“Ye are welcome. Now, what is it ye were sayin’? Ah, aye, that ye daenae trust me. Well, I can hardly blame ye.”

“If it bothers ye so much then ye should tell me what the next plan is. I have been with ye through all of this for some time, so the least ye can do is put yer trust in me.”

They chuckled. Freya did not like the sound of it. “Actually, I daenae think I’ll be needin’ ye anymore.”

Her heart sank. If she had not already been sitting, she would have dropped to her knees.

“What?” she croaked.

“Aye, ye have helped me much. But ye are clearly nae ready to handle this as well as I thought.”

“Nay.” She gripped the sheet and forced herself to stay on the bed. “Nay, I am strong enough to take on anythin’ ye ask of me.”

“I’ve already asked for too much…”

She knew what he was doing. He was playing on her emotions; on the feelings she had never spoken aloud to him. Though she showed it as clear as day through her actions. She knew that, and yet she could not stop herself from saying, “Daenae toss me aside just yet. I ken I can be useful to ye.”

“Is that so?”

“I love ye,” she blurted out. Her heart was racing so rapidly that she did not think it was safe anymore. She clutched the front of her—of Jonet’s—dress. “I love ye and after this is all done, I cannae wait to marry ye. So please daenae toss me asi—”

He laughed harshly this time, making her swallow the rest of her words. “Marry?” he barked. “Ye cannae really think I would marry ye?”

“But… but I thought…”

“I have nae feelin’s for ye at all, Freya!” He actually sounded rather amused by her confession, which ripped her to a million pieces. “Me heart belongs with one woman and that’s Jonet. All I have done is for Jonet. Ye cannae hope to hold a candle to her.”

She lowered her gaze to the floor she could not even see very well. That familiar spark of jealousy erupted in her.

“Look at yerself,” he went on. “Wearin’ one of her dresses. Even when ye try to imitate her, ye cannae even come close. Jonet is far too beautiful, too perfect, to be imitated, Freya. Ye should see that ye are so close to her side.”

She wondered if he was hitting all her most tender spots on purpose. The jealousy was growing, molding into something else, latching onto the anger that she was beginning to feel at his words.

“She shines as brightly as the stars that hang over the Castle. She is as lovely as a flower and I want her to be mine.”

It all began to make sense to her. All the things she had done, just for him. She somehow fooled herself into thinking that it might have been for some other sake, one that was far more chivalrous. She had foolishly let herself fall even deeper in love with him because of that.

Yet he had done it all for one person, the person she envied the most in the world.

Freya did not know what to do with herself. He had finally fallen silent and she could feel his heavy gaze, waiting for her to say something. No words came to her mind. Freya wanted to walk out of the room, to turn herself in, to put this all behind her, to do something. The fact that she just sat there made her realize that he had her wrapped around his finger. She was likely to do anything for him, even knowing what she knew now.

He began speaking again, as if he could not bear to stop praising Jonet’s presence for a moment longer. He told Freya all his plans now, his voice quick with newfound fervor. He told her all he wanted to do; things driven by the love he had in his heart for Jonet. One he had kept to himself for so many years.

She sat there and listened, unable to do anything else. Like the pawn she had become, she no longer had a

ny control over her own actions. He wanted to tell her all these things in his excitement. So, she would listen, suffering in quiet pain.

The door banged open. She shot to her feet, watching as an enraged Dougal stormed the room. His eyes landed on Freya first and then the dark figure in the corner.

“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded.

The dark figure was on his feet too, but he did not come out of the shadows.