Sweet Home Highland Christmas Page 9

  “The colonel’s solicitor?”

  “No. Mine.”

  She felt herself being swept up on a wave of hope. “Why would your solicitor be here?”

  “Just come in and sit down . . . and trust me.”

  * * *

  As his man Oliver Ogilvie explained what Colonel Dunbar had agreed to, Penn held Freya’s trembling fingers in his and watched her profile as she absorbed the impact this change would have on her future. She glanced at Penn for a moment as the solicitor laid the signed documents out before her.

  “Although Colonel Dunbar will inherit the title of ‘baron’ after your father’s demise, he surrenders any future claim to Torrishbrae and its associated Sutherland land and property,” the solicitor summarized. “And, as is stated on the last page, he abandons any offers of marriage and releases you of any ‘understandings’ between the two of you. You are free, Miss Sutherland, to plan your future as you please.”

  By now, Penn thought, Dunbar would be halfway to Edinburgh to cash the bank drafts he’d received in exchange for signing the document, and Freya was free to stand in front of Lady Dacre as a wealthy and independent woman. She was free to forge a future of her own. In any court of law, she could fight for the custody of her niece, for she now had the means to provide a secure future for Ella, even after her father was gone.

  “If you have no questions for me . . .” the solicitor stated, rising from his chair. He turned to Penn and said, “I’ll be in the adjoining chamber, Captain, if my services are needed again.”

  Freya waited until the man had left the room before standing and turning her teary eyes on him. Gregory stood, as well.

  “How much did this cost you?” she asked. “How am I ever going to be able to repay you?”

  He wrapped her in his arms. “I only ask you to answer one question.”

  Penn could see his own face reflected in the dark jewels of her eyes.

  “From the first moment I laid eyes on you, I found that I could not ignore my feelings. I could not ignore the changes I felt taking place in me. Day after day, my admiration grew, and with it my affection. And it wasn’t only your beauty that I fell in love with . . . it was your generous and selfless heart.”

  He kissed her lips and drew back, looking steadily into that face he knew he could never again live without.

  “I love you, Freya.”

  * * *

  She stood still, unsure of the reality of this moment, caught up in a storm of joy so strong that she felt herself going weak in the knees. Afraid to hope, afraid to let herself believe, she stared up at him.

  “Please tell me this not all a dream.”

  He smiled and held her tight. “If it is, the good news is that we’re dreaming together.”

  Her vision misted over. “Then since we’re together—awake or dreaming—I should tell you that I love you too. But dreams are such fleeting things. And you have plans.”

  A broad smile spread across his face. “We’re not asleep, my love, though this world is still our own. And I want you to know that I am not going off to Boston. That was a plan made by a man who was looking for a purpose in his life. A man who needed to establish a home, create a family. In you, I have already found both. If you’ll have me.”

  Her palms flattened against his chest. Beneath her fingertips, she felt the strong beat of his true heart.

  “Will you marry me, Freya?”

  “But your family. Our stations in life are so different,” she cried. “I promised myself long ago that I would never be put in the same position my sister and Fredrick faced, what your friends John and Myrna have faced.”

  “You won’t,” he interrupted, wiping the tears off her cheek. “My parents, my brother and sisters—they’re nothing like Dacre’s family. I guarantee you that they will embrace you and Ella as their own.”

  She started to argue, and he pressed a finger to her lips.

  “You can trust me, Freya. After all, the Penningtons are half Scot. They’ll love you as I love you. Say you’ll marry me.”

  Emotions choked the words in her throat. All she could do was nod.

  He kissed her, deeply and passionately.

  “I don’t want you to think I was taking you for granted,” he said as they broke off the kiss. “But I took a chance and had Ogilvie draw up the marriage contract.”

  “For us?” she asked. Love and happiness welled up within her until she thought she would burst.

  He nodded. “So what would you think about two weddings? One here, now, and the second in a church where your family and mine can share in our joy?”

  * * *

  Exchanging their vows was bliss. Signing and swearing to the oath before Mr. Ogilvie was simple. Consummation, however, was certain to present a few difficulties. At the top of that list was a little girl named Ella.

  Between breathless kisses during the carriage ride back to the inn, Freya learned that her niece had met with Gregory last night and told him about the arrival of Dunbar. Now, as the two sat hand in hand in the sitting room, sharing their news with the five-year-old, Ella first bounced with joy and then took immediate credit for it all.

  Then the inquisition began.

  “Are you married like Captain Simpson and Mrs. Simpson?” her niece wanted to know.

  “We are indeed,” Gregory answered.

  She addressed the next question to Freya. “Are you married like Shona and Dougal?”

  “Yes.”

  Ella made a face, as if she might not be too keen on that arrangement. “Am I allowed to come to your bedchamber when you are in bed?”

  “No,” she said.

  “But if you knock,” Gregory explained, “one of us will fetch you. But not until we’re ready for you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it would be inappropriate,” Freya told her. “A husband and wife need their privacy.”

  “Why?”

  Freya didn’t recall her niece being as curious with regard to Shona and her husband. “Sometimes we need to . . . talk. Just the two of us.”

  “I’ll cover my ears when I come in.” She covered her ears with her hands, showing them how she’d do it.

  “Still, you need to knock,” Freya reminded her. “And wait.”

  Ella pulled her legs up and sat cross-legged on her chair. She was settling in for the long haul. “Only talk? How about dancing?”

  Gregory sent Freya a troubled look, and she was sure he was remembering the day Ella became upset in the carriage, thinking that dancing was responsible for making babies. She looked at her niece.

  “We’ll be dancing too,” she said softly. Ella’s gaze immediately fixed on Freya’s stomach. “But I’ll be fine, my love. I won’t leave you.”

  The child’s expression bespoke her doubts, and Freya lifted the girl onto her lap.

  Holding Ella tight in her arms, she whispered, “I love you. We’ll never leave you. You’re going to be ours.”

  Satisfied, Ella extricated herself and dived into Gregory’s arms. Freya watched, somewhat misty-eyed, as the little hands cradled his face and she looked into his eyes.

  “What do I call you now?” she asked.

  “Penn? Papa? Gregory? Uncle? Anything you like,” he said gently.

  Ella nodded thoughtfully, placed a kiss on his forehead, and then pointed to her own forehead. Gregory returned it with a smile. Kisses were then exchanged on each cheek before she scrambled to get down.

  Standing in front of them, she looked from one to the other.

  “Fie and Gag,” she said.

  “I like it,” Gregory said, pulling Freya against him.

  Chapter Eleven

  Rules are rules, but making love while traveling with a five-year-old bent on getting one’s attention at the worst time was proving to be a challenge. After an extra day in Dundee and two days in Stirling, Ella was continuing to burst into their room at the most unexpected moment. A stomach ache. A bad dream. Shona’s loud snoring. And last night, she cla
imed she was starving and couldn’t possibly go to sleep.

  The first night, Shona had kept Ella away for at least half the night. Since then, Freya and Gregory found themselves making love anytime and anywhere the opportunity presented itself, stealing moments that were exciting, fiery, and tremendously satisfying.

  In the carriage on the way to the top of Dundee Law while Ella taught Dougal to play backgammon back at the inn. Against an ancient wardrobe in their bedchamber while Shona bathed the child by the fire in the sitting room. In Stirling, where Gregory knew an old friend who was stationed at the snow-covered castle, they’d made love in his private office while the major showed Ella, with Shona trailing along, the gardens of the former royal residence. Freya still blushed at the memory of the ecstasy she and Gregory shared on the man’s desk.

  Freya’s gaze lifted from her book to her husband. He was sitting with Ella across the drawing room of the Pennington’s lovely townhouse in Edinburgh. The two had their heads together, whispering quietly and sending her occasional looks of mischief.

  She loved them and she loved seeing the bond that had formed between them. Freya was especially appreciative of Gregory’s understanding and patience regarding Ella’s nightly interruptions. He understood that while they were on the road and away from her regular routines at home, the child needed attention.

  Shona looked up from her sewing and cocked an eyebrow in the direction of her charge. It was past Ella’s bedtime.

  Freya started to remind her niece of it, but paused with surprise when the little girl hugged Gregory and then crossed the room to give her a good-night hug too.

  “I’m relying on you, Fie,” she said. Taking Shona by the hand, Ella led her nursemaid out of the drawing room and up the stairs.

  Relying on me? She gazed after her niece, wondering about the girl’s happy disposition.

  A few moments later, Gregory rose to his feet, and the smile he gave her tightened her chest with the love she held in her heart. She didn’t think she would ever get used to how handsome he was or how breathless she felt when he looked at her like that.

  “What does she mean, ‘relying’ on me?” she asked as he strolled lazily across the room. He took the book out of her hand, laid it aside, and pulled her to her feet.

  “Come on,” he said, threading his fingers into hers and leading her up the stairs to their bedroom.

  This was how every night started, but a few moments after their door closed, Ella would be there, demanding their attention.

  Freya heard the door close, and she looked over her shoulder as Gregory moved behind her to undo the buttons of her dress.

  “How long do you think we have?” she asked.

  She shivered with excitement as his lips brushed against the side of her neck.

  “We have all night.”

  She didn’t want to ruin the magic of this moment by reminding him of the past few nights. Instead, Freya gathered her hair to one side as Gregory’s strong fingers undid and parted the dress on her back.

  He pushed the dress down over her arms and she looked nervously at the door. “Do you think we should put a chair in front of it?”

  The child was definitely confused as far as what was appropriate knocking on their door. Last night, there was a soft tap and then she’d put a shoulder to it.

  “Maybe that desk,” she suggested next. “The two of us should be able to move it over.”

  Still worrying about how Ella would manage to gain access into their room, Freya heard him chuckle to himself, but she was momentarily distracted by the feel of his fingers moving over her body.

  “The window,” she said warily, taking a step toward it. “Isn’t that a balcony outside? We should check to see if she can reach . . .”

  Her words disappeared when he turned her around and she found he was standing naked in front of her. Naked. She raked his body with her gaze.

  “When did you undress me?” she asked, realizing they were both as naked as the day they were born. Shyness quickly gave way to excitement, and desire lit up within her like a flame.

  “You are stunning,” he said, his voice husky with feeling.

  Her body hummed as he stroked his fingers over her breasts and belly before he bent down and drew her nipple between his lips.

  She sighed with pleasure, her head falling back. “Please build a fortress and make sure no one interrupts us at least for an hour,” she moaned.

  “We have all night,” he repeated, suckling hard at her other breast.

  His hand slid down over her mound and into her waiting sex. Freya inhaled sharply and her fingers held his head as the pleasure continued to build in her.

  Suddenly, he lifted her off her feet and carried her to the bed.

  “My God, I’m a lucky man,” he said thickly, kissing her lips.

  Aching with need, she opened her arms to him as he climbed on the bed with her. “Please come to me now. Hurry. Make love to me. Before we get interrupted.”

  His laughter washed over her like silk.

  “Not tonight, my dearest love.”

  He slid his body down the bed, running his mouth along each rib, circling her navel with his tongue and moving lower. They’d never had enough time for anything like this. She shivered with anticipation and pleasure.

  Doors. Windows. Would Shona be an angel and keep Ella away long enough?

  All thoughts of interruption disappeared when Gregory slid his hands beneath her bottom and ran his tongue along the lips of her sex. A molten frenzy erupted within her. She nearly crawled out of her skin at the force of the sensation. As he kept building the relentless intensity with his tongue and his mouth, her mind emptied of all worries and centered on the coming release. Then, when he suckled the core of her pleasure, she shattered, driven beyond the edge of reason, exploding into another starlit dimension, her cries of release echoing around her.

  As she floated in that ethereal state, she was only vaguely aware of his body moving over her, his mouth closing over hers.

  Suddenly, she needed him, wanted him inside of her. Her fingers moved down over the taut muscles of his stomach and wrapped around the velvety length of his erection. She heard his sharp intake of breath as she guided the smooth head to the opening of her sex.

  “Take me, my love,” she pleaded, again fearing the imminent knock at the door.

  He entered her, slowly at first and she felt herself stretch to take all of him in. Like the other times they’d made love, she expected him to hurry, but tonight he took his time. Feeling him fully embedded in her body, she sighed with pleasure and wrapped herself around him as he began to move. Long, deliberate strokes wrought a different thrill within her, driving her higher as she looked into his eyes and felt his skin go damp beneath the touch of her fingers.

  The door, the window, interruptions meant nothing now. Her body rose with each stroke, her mind emptied of everything but the man she loved.

  He reached between their bodies and touched her, and she came once again. This time her release went on and on until his name became a muffled chant against his shoulder.

  In the next moment, he gripped her hips and, muscles clenching, he whispered her name as he poured himself into her.

  Freya marveled at his beauty, at his strength, and at the sound of her own name on his lips. Finally spent, he collapsed on top of her, his head dropping to the curve of her throat.

  They both tried to catch their breath. Their bodies were still joined. The warm feeling of happiness and contentment washed through her. There was nowhere else in the world that she wished to be. There was nothing else that she wanted but the happiness of a life with him.

  She glanced at the still quiet door and smiled. With him and with Ella.

  “What did you blackmail her with?” she asked with a contented sigh.

  “With a baby.”

  He lifted his head and looked down at her.

  “She wants a baby brother or sister. I simply told her we have to dance all night . .
. with no interruptions.”

  She smiled and raised her lips to his. “My brilliant husband.”

  Epilogue

  Christmas Eve

  Baronsford loomed above the frozen lake, stately and majestic, its windows lit with candles. Blazing torches illuminated paths leading from the house to the ice, with branches going off into the magnificent gardens.

  The Pennington family and their tenants, neighbors, and guests had gathered for their traditional celebrations, and the annual Christmas Eve skating party was now going strong. The entire household—from the aging earl and countess to the very last stable boy and scullery maid—was partaking in the festivities that extended into the Christmas dinner tomorrow and the great ball the day after.

  Freya’s skates cut into the ice and she stopped. Her eyes were drawn to the carolers singing by the roaring bonfire at the edge of the lake, where wassail was being ladled into great bowls and passed around. Happy faces flushed with the cold and drink reflected the bright flames.

  All of this resembled some joyous dream. They’d arrived at Baronsford two days ago and Freya had been overjoyed and brought to tears by the reception the family had given her and Ella. They already knew she and Gregory had married. He’d written to his parents and siblings from Dundee at the same time she’d written to her father.

  She had no worries about her father’s reaction. Baron Sutherland was as certain of her judgment as he was certain the sun would rise in the east. Still, her relief was unbounded at the knowledge that Gregory’s family also celebrated their union. Freya had no doubt that her father would be packing his trunk to come south for the church wedding within minutes of reading her letter.

  Yesterday, Lady Dacre had also arrived. With Gregory and the rest of the Pennington family at her side, Freya had met the dowager and introduced Ella to her grandmother with confidence. And her reaction was better than they expected. The frail and aging lady was delighted. Her concerns about the child’s well-being had been answered.

  Freya breathed in the bracing night air and gazed at the tall, handsome skater approaching. His eyes sparkled as he smiled and slipped his arm around her.