They’d covered half the distance to Inverness, and Freya was relieved when Captain Pennington told them he didn’t intend to travel through the night. He ordered the driver to stop just outside of Tain at the gray stone inn. She was familiar with this area of the Highlands and the persisting pilgrimage appeal of Saint Duthac’s around Advent, and was not surprised when they were told that there was only one remaining room available for the travelers. Freya, Ella, and Shona would share the room while the men found places to sleep in the tavern and the stables.

Their stop here was to be brief. With so few hours of daylight, the captain wanted to be on the road again long before the sun rose. Ella gave her no trouble and fell fast asleep as soon as they settled into the room. Shona joined them after sharing a supper with her husband.

“Dougal said to tell you that he asked around at the stables. No one’s seen a traveler matching Colonel Dunbar’s description stopping here ahead of us. Of course, there are other places in Tain that he could go and ask.”

Freya shook her head. “There’s no saying he’d stop here at all. We don’t even know if he’s behind us or ahead of us. The only thing that gives me any peace of mind is that he knows our destination.” She picked up the letter that she’d written to her cousin after Ella fell asleep. “Just in case, I am leaving this with the innkeeper downstairs.”

She looked across the snug room at the precious face of her sleeping niece.

“Siuthad, mistress. Go. She won’t be out of my sight.”

Freya wasn’t about to tell her maid, but leaving the letter for the colonel was only an excuse to go downstairs. She knew Captain Pennington was there in the taproom, and she needed to see him. They hadn’t had a chance to speak freely after Ella’s emotional outburst, and there was a great deal that needed explaining. For however long it took to reach Baronsford, the captain was stuck with them. It was her duty to warn him, she told herself, to explain what prompted the child’s reaction.

As she paused at the top of the staircase and ran a hand down the skirt of her traveling dress, Freya knew deep down that all of that was, in part, an excuse too. She wanted to see him. His looks, his manner, the subtle clues he’d given her that indicated he sympathized with her situation, all of it appealed to her. And his timing could not be better. She could use an ally when they arrived at Baronsford.

When she reached the bottom of the steps, she found the smoky taproom to be more crowded than she expected. Working men milled about and filled every table, playing cards and throwing dice at hazard. At one table a rambunctious trio were cheering on rivals in a game of nine men’s morris. In a far corner, a drunken group were crooning a Highland song of a maid lost to the fairy king. Finally, the innkeeper appeared through a cellar door, and Freya handed him the letter with her instructions.

The man walked off, and she moved across the room. But it was difficult to find Captain Pennington in the thick of all the activity. Then, as she stopped and stood on her toes looking for him, someone looped an arm around her waist and roughly pulled her around.

“And where, my bonnie jo, have ye been?”

The smell of whiskey and pig manure nearly knocked Freya out. She glared into the flushed face and drooping unfocused eyes.

“Release me,” she snapped. “And I mean now.”

“But I’ve been a-waiting for you all this dreary night, lassie,” the young man slurred in Gaelic, taking hold of her arms as he tried to keep his balance. “Who’d have thought a mornin’ star like you would fall to Earth here in T—”

“You will take your hands off me this instant,” she scolded fiercely. “Or by God and his angels, I’ll give you a bruising that you’ll be telling your children about for years to come. If you’re able to have any.”

“Aye, an aingeal.” He started to smile but quickly appeared to change his mind. His eyes opened wide, and he dropped his hands from her arms. He stepped back and turned away, mumbling, “Sorry, mistress. I thought ye were . . . I thought I . . .”

Freya watched as he slunk off like a whipped dog. Her father always commended her for her manner of no-nonsense strength, and the men around Torrishbrae—whether they be tenants or servants or locals—treated her with deference. But the lack of fight demonstrated by her pig-farming harasser was impressive.

Still, she wasn’t going to press her luck. Perhaps, she decided, tonight wasn’t the ideal time to speak with Captain Pennington. She turned back toward the steps, only to find his chest a hand’s breadth from her face.

The flutter of pleasure came with no warning. She backed up a step and looked behind her where her would-be suitor had disappeared, then turned again to the captain.

“How long have you been standing here?” she asked, daring herself to look up into his handsome face. He’d shed his scarlet coat, and the white shirt beneath his waistcoat was unbuttoned at the throat.

“Long enough to learn that laying a hand on you without an invitation is done at great peril.”

Freya bit her bottom lip to stop from smiling and met his gaze. “Show me the look that made the man run.”

“Only if you show me yours.”

A barmaid carrying pitchers of ale bumped Freya from behind, pushing her into Captain Pennington’s chest. His arm wrapped protectively around her, drawing her away from the commotion behind her. She took a deep breath, feeling a thrill take hold deep in her belly.

“Come with me,” he murmured, bringing his mouth close.

His deep voice and his breath tickling her ear were enough to start Freya’s senses dancing with pleasure. On the small of her back, she felt the warmth of his hand through the material of her dress. Using his great height and body to shield her, he moved easily through the crowded room.

Freya wasn’t accustomed to this feeling of being looked after. In her whole life, she’d never been the object of this kind of attentiveness.

They reached a table in the corner curtained off from the rest of the room. He ushered her inside. “Do you mind joining me here?”

“Not at all, Captain.”

A large settle against the wall had already been arranged with a blanket for him to sleep on, though his long legs would certainly be requiring a chair to extend the makeshift bed.

She glanced around at the table. A number of chairs were drawn up to it, and he picked up his greatcoat and a leather travel bag from one of them and tossed the items on the settle. A cold, damp wind was howling through the cracks around a shuttered window.

“I’m sorry you have to sleep here,” she said.

“My driver said there are better accommodations above the stables, but this is just fine.”

“Why didn’t you take them?”

“With this crowd of ne’er-do-wells? I didn’t want to be too far from you.”

Freya was touched by his protectiveness.

He held a chair for her and she sat. The remains of his meal lay on the table.

“Can I order you some supper?” he asked. “I wouldn’t recommend the pigeon pie, but the oysters are surprisingly fresh.”

“Thank you, but no. I took dinner with Ella.”

“Then perhaps you’ll take a glass with me. This elder wine is quite good.”

She wanted to, but wondered if she should. Dulling her senses, alone in the company of someone with his looks and charm, might not be a good idea.

After receiving another cup from the barmaid, Pennington closed the curtain. “I’d prefer we not invite any of these unsavory characters in,” he said.

Freya knew he was the safest person she could be with in this taproom. He poured her a cup of wine from the pitcher and slid it toward her.

“How did you know I was down here?” she asked. “You were quick to come to my aid.”

“The tenor of the noise out there changed. I knew the moment you came down the steps,” he said. “I’ve spent too much time in the company of soldiers. I know too well the sounds of the taproom.”

She looked over her shoulder at the closed curtain and listened. The hubbub and hum of voices rose and fell. Words were mostly unintelligible, but the singers had been reduced to one voice entertaining the others.

“Is anything happening now?”

“Nothing but a crowd of men looking for an hour of leisure. Some have drunk too much ale or whiskey, and all of them are tired from their labors.”

“And how was it different when I came down?”

“Let me just say that I knew.”

She turned back to the table and found him watching her. The dim light of the single guttering candle in the curtained-off space was a blessing as she felt the warmth of a blush spreading up her neck into her face.

In preparing herself for this journey, Freya had imagined it would be all hardship and sorrow. She knew what lay at the end of it. Even if her cousin showed up and Lady Dacre was amenable to allowing Ella’s living arrangements to remain as they were, Freya still had to face up to her own future. She was no fool. She knew her marriage would be a sham and, in the end, a wretched failure.

Now, here she was, sitting across from this man. Captain Pennington was handsome enough to make her heart throb incessantly and considerate enough to even give up his comforts.

“I am sorry about today and Ella’s outburst,” she said, watching him refill his cup of wine. “She is far too aware of things for her age. Unfortunately, she knows too much and worries even more.”

“She’s afraid of losing you.”

“She’s very alert to my emotions. She recognizes my concerns, and that only adds to her fears.”

Freya stared at the dark liquid in her cup. Ella was an uncommon child, and her upbringing thus far could be considered by some as unconventional. Since before she could talk, she’d been treated like an adult. She was always in the company of older people. Hand in hand, they had experienced life and its obstacles together, even as Freya herself learned to deal with them. She was beginning to think she should have sheltered Ella more.

“When did your sister pass away?”

The captain’s question brought Freya’s attention back to him. “A week after Ella was born.”

“That was a large responsibility to be left with.”

She shrugged. “Lucy was my only sister, and Ella’s father was fighting the French. I needed to step in and take charge of the bairn. I was glad to do it. But I wasn’t alone. I had my father.”

“How old were you then?”

“Seventeen.”

His gaze moved over her face, and she picked up the cup of wine, unable to stand the intensity of his perusal. She took a swallow, savoring the warm liquid.

“You were a young woman at the very beginning of your own adult life. You became your niece’s guardian at an age when most lasses would have been fussing over their social calendar or the contents of their hope chest.”

“I was a young woman faced with the loss of my sister,” she corrected, still feeling after all these years the pain of Lucy’s death. They were only two years apart. She’d lost not only a sister but her best friend. “I was willing and able to shoulder what I knew to be my duty. And, I’ll be honest, that’s what those first days were to me. An obligation. But that quickly changed. I fell in love with my sister’s precious daughter. Ella was a blessing. A gift.”

“You were plucked from your own life and dropped into your sister’s. That had to be difficult. The adjustment, I mean.”

The captain had a point. She wouldn’t deny it. Freya still had not forgotten the dreams of her youth. She recalled that one day she had been trying to decide between green material or gold for a dress and another day, a month later, she was frantic with worry over Ella not sleeping and not taking to the wet nurse. She’d kept the village doctor busy at all hours of the day and night.

“You had to grow up fast.”

“Many a lass of seventeen is a mother, Captain.”

“That’s true. But it doesn’t change what happened to you.”

“I did grow up in a hurry,” she admitted. “The fact is, I hardly noticed it. But who can truly tell what the future holds? Few go through life along some smooth and protected path, emerging unscathed,” she said. “To my thinking, the courage of a person is tested not only in a battle, but in how well they react and recover when life knocks them to the side with unexpected blows.”

A momentary hush fell between them. His eyes fixed on hers. The thought ran through Freya’s mind as he gazed at her that this man was truly seeing her. Not the exterior of a woman, but the person she’d become since taking charge of her niece. And this unsettled her. She felt exposed, vulnerable, drawn to him. No one, including her father, really understood the transformation her life had undergone.

She searched for something to say to break the silence. “My father tells me I lecture too much. I apologize if I’ve come across as some didactic old crone, Captain.”

“You can call me Penn. That’s what my friends call me.”

She hesitated, unsure of how this would sound to others.

“And to my family, I’m Gregory. I’d be very pleased if we could curtail this formality.”

“Gregory it is then,” she said quietly. “And pray, call me Freya. That’s how my family refers to me. And you already know Ella’s name for me.”

“Fie.” He smiled. “Like a fairy. You’re Ella’s magical keeper, spreading your unseen wings around the little pixy, keeping her secure from the world.”

His voice spread over her like poetry. Freya’s face caught fire, and her insides were like the candle on the table, melting in this man’s presence.

He added some wine to his cup. He charmed her, enthralled her. There was so much that she wanted to know about him, questions that she had. But she had no right to ask. Where her heart was straying, her mind could not allow her to go.

Freya forced her attention back to the clatter of dice and the hum of voices beyond the curtain. Sitting across from each other at the table, there was nowhere else she could look but at him. And there was nothing nearly as interesting to think of but the man before her.

“May I ask a personal question?” he asked.

“Everything we’ve been talking about tonight has been personal, Captain . . . I mean, Gregory.” She took another sip and prepared herself.

His smile was lethal. It reached his magical eyes, and Freya’s heart began a new dance in her chest.

“Why didn’t you marry someone before now?” he asked.

“You mean to someone other than the colonel?”

He shrugged and swirled the wine in his cup.

“Well . . .”

“And I want an honest answer,” he pressed. “We are talking as friends here. No hesitating to sort through your thoughts or weigh the consequences of your answer.”

“Is that how friends converse?” She laughed. “With no consideration of the consequences of their words?”

“Well, let’s say for this question, you need not fear being misunderstood.”

Friends. She repeated the word in her mind. She’d never had a man refer to her as a friend. Very well. Having such a defined relationship made their situation—their close proximity in traveling in the same carriage and the time they’d be spending with each other on the road—far more comfortable. It also helped cool the forbidden fancies of her heart.

“I’ve never left Torrishbrae for the expressed purpose of finding a potential husband,” she said flatly. “I’ve had no time for the social world of London or even Edinburgh. That is why I’ve never married. And I have no regrets. My life has been so full. Ella has been my whole world.”

“And now?” he asked, sitting back from the table. His face lay half in shadow. “When you consider the difficulties you’re facing presently, do you have any regrets?”

“As I said earlier, I’m certain the rumors that you heard about my cousin were a mistake. I am counting on him to hold up his part of the bargain.”

“I’ve only known you a short time, but I know that in this bargain, you are being cheated.”

Freya was not intimidated by his fierce expression of honesty. Her own father was famous for it. Living with it for her whole life instilled in her a toughness and an ability to see the world clearly.

“There is no changing the fact that he will be the next Baron of Torrishbrae. By marrying him, I will have Ella. That’s all I seek.”

“You will have Ella, but it is naïve to think that Dunbar’s disposition and how he conducts his affairs won’t affect your life,” he persisted. “The man is a known gambler. An opportunist. One who will behave in an ungentlemanly manner if it will turn a situation to his favor. He is—”

“He is my cousin, Captain,” she interrupted. She knew all of this and more. But for the past month, she’d stewed over this, discussed it with her father. “I’ve looked at this from every possible angle, and my options are gone. If I am to keep Ella, I must take whatever future presents itself with this man.”

Standing, she started out and then stopped. Freya didn’t want to leave with hard feelings. She valued their conversation and the friendship that seemed to be emerging between them.

“Thank you, Gregory, for the chance to speak my mind,” she said softly. “But for better or worse, Colonel Dunbar is the only possibility I have.”