Page 26 of The Madam’s Highlander

He didn't look at her like a man feigning being married to the saucy owner of a bawdyhouse. He looked at her like he respected her, like he adored her. Like he loved her.

He looked at her in a way she'd never realized until that very moment she'd yearned for.

His mouth lifted in a besotted smile, and her world slowed. He caressed her cheek with a touch as gentle as a soft breeze. And her world stopped.

Her breath fled over her lips and didn't bother to return.

“Freya, will ye hand Captain Crosby his pastry?” Marian's voice floated into the still life capturing Freya's attention, shattering it.

Freya pulled her stare from Ewan to find Marian holding out a plate with a pastry atop it.

“For Captain Crosby, sister.” Marian looked to Ewan and back to Freya. It was then Freya noticed the flush staining her younger sister's fair skin.

Freya took the plate with a wary gaze toward her sister. “What has ye so—”

“I can get my own, thank you.” Captain Crosby leapt forward in a flash of red and snatched up a plate from where it sat directly in front of Marian.

Freya blinked and stared incredulously at the rude English officer. Then she noticed the pastry on his plate was the one which had fallen over and no longer had the smear of tangy, sweet jam.

Marian started. “Oh, but that was not the one ye should—”

He bent over the plate and bit into the mutilated pastry. Marian would be forced to not give herself the ruined one as she'd intended, but have a prettily perfect one in its stead.

It was then Freya found herself liking Captain Crosby a little more. It was also then she realized she needed to warn him away from her sister. Marian, after all, had been through enough when it came to the damned English.

She had the opportunity not long after tea when Ma left with Lily and Marian had followed the servant into the kitchen. Ewan still sat by her side, a comfort she appreciated more than she'd thought she might.

Freya shifted slightly in her seat to face Captain Crosby and gave him a tight smile. “How long do you anticipate your stay to be, Captain Crosby?”

“Why do you ask?” He wriggled his blunt nose and took a delicate sip of tea.

“Well, it is our home.” Freya spoke quietly, knowing she was being rude, knowing her mother would be horrified by the conversation. But then it wasn't her mother who protected the family. It was Freya who saw them all safe.

And that was what she intended to do.

“I understand,” Captain Crosby nodded. “It should only be a few more days, I believe.”

Marian came out from the kitchen to gather Ma's shawl, gave an apologetic smile at her intrusion, and slipped away once more. Freya followed her sister's movements, graceful still despite the bulk of her stomach. So too did Captain Crosby.

“Will Miss Marian's husband be home soon?” He turned back to Freya with concern pulling at his dark brows. “She appears quite close to her time.”

“She has no husband,” Freya stated bluntly.

Captain Crosby's dark brows rose. “Forgive me, I—”

“But ye may know him.” She couldn't keep the bitterness out of her tone.

“Might I?” he asked with obvious hesitation.

At least the man knew when he was heading straight into a trap.

“Ach, aye,” Freya said. “He wore a red coat just like yers when he dragged her from our home and shoved her into the dirt so he could rape her for all to see.”

The teacup fell from Captain Crosby's hand and landed on the thick carpet mutely. A dark stain appeared on the lush carpet.

“So, you must know him,” Freya said conversationally. “A man of the king's army, willing to rape an innocent woman not strong enough to fend him off herself. He had a traveling companion just like him who held me back from helping her.” She sipped her tea. “But then there are so many of you willing to rape these days. I can imagine it would be hard to discern.”

A sharp gasp sounded from across the room. Freya looked up and her heart punched into her stomach.