Page 23 of A Healer for the Wicked Highlander

Michael smiled at his son’s honesty. “It’s nae supposed to be happy, lad. It’s just... practical.”

“Well, aye… practical is borin’,” Cody added, and the girls giggled.

“Practical is useful,” Freya suddenly said. “But wee ones daenae see that sometimes.”

Her eyes locked with Michael’s. Her beauty almost stole his breath away.

“Wee ones need to have fun,” Cody agreed. “Practicalities are for grown ups… speakin’ of fun, when I’m better, can we all go to the woods together and have a picnic?”

Freya’s smile widened, and she leaned in closer to him. “I think that sounds like a wonderful idea, Cody.”

Michael was about to respond when Freya, noticing the time, stood and glanced over at the door. “I think it’s about time for ye to rest now, Cody. Ye’ve had a good meal, and we wouldnae want to tire ye out too much.”

“But I want to play with Marissa and Abigail,” Cody protested, his lip pouting.

“Tomorrow,” Freya said with a smile, her tone soft but firm. “Tomorrow, we can have all the fun ye want. For now, ye need to get some rest so ye’ll feel even better.”

“Alright,” Cody said reluctantly, but he was clearly cheered by the idea of playing the next day with his friends.

As the last of the laughter from the children’s chatter echoed through the hall, Michael stood, watching Freya as she gentlyushered Cody up the stairs, her attention fully on the boy. There was something about the way she moved—graceful, purposeful, as though every step she took was measured in care. It made the ache in his chest throb with an intensity he hadn’t quite understood before.

He hesitated for a moment, before calling out to her. “Freya, wait.”

She paused, her back still to him, but there was a subtle tension in her posture. Slowly, she turned to face him, her expression guarded, the warmth in her gaze replaced by a cool distance. He couldn’t help but notice the way her lips pressed together, the way she crossed her arms slightly—she was on edge.

He took a step toward her, his voice steady, but laced with the frustration that had built in him over the past few days. “I was wonderin’ if ye’d care to join me for a walk through the gardens. The night air’s fresh, and the stars are clear.”

Freya’s eyes flickered toward the stairs, then back to him. Her face softened for just a moment, but it quickly regained its composure.

“Thank ye, me laird, but I’m tired,” she replied, her voice calm, yet distant. “I’ll put Cody to bed, and then I’ll retire meself. The boy needs rest. And I feel like I daenae have enough of it meself.”

Michael frowned. He could see it in her eyes, the wariness, the hesitation. And he couldn’t blame her. The kiss, the words they had exchanged—it was a mess he wasn’t sure how to untangle.But seeing her retreat, pulling away from him again, only stirred the frustration that had been building inside him since that night.

He wanted to argue, to insist, to pull her into conversation, but he also understood her commitment to Cody. He understood her duty, her unwavering focus on the boy. It was one of the many reasons she had become indispensable in his eyes.

“Very well,” he muttered. “Perhaps another time, then.”

She gave him a curt nod, her eyes a little warmer now, but the distance was still there.

“Another time,” she echoed, then turned, her steps light as she ascended the stairs, her silhouette slowly disappearing from his view.

Soon enough, everyone retired to their respective chambers, only Michael couldn’t not find any respite. There was one place that could have offered some. He headed there immediately.

The library was quiet, save for the faint crackle of the fire in the hearth and the subtle rustle of the pages turning. Michael remained in the doorway, needing a moment to himself. But his plan to decompress was thwarted the moment he saw her.

Freya.

She was curled up on the settee by the fire. A book rested in her lap. He remembered her saying that she would go and rest, and yet she was still up, trying to help his son. She was reading about poisons, of all things. Of course she would be.

He tried to look away, to remind himself why he was here, but his gaze kept returning to her. How he yearned to taste her, to have her in his arms again, to inhale the fragrance of her naked skin. His insides exploded with desire, his manhood straining for release at the very sight of her. Claiming her in the darkness of the night would be a dream come true.

Ach, pull yerself together, man.Ye’ve nae time for foolish notions. Aye, she’s bonnie, but that’s where it ends. Ye’ve a son to think of, and nay one will be as important as him.

The memory of their kiss flared unbidden in his mind. He clenched his jaw. It had been a mistake, a moment of weakness he couldn’t afford to repeat. Freya was a distraction, and distractions were dangerous.

Ye’ve done fine on yer own, Michael. Ye daenae need distractions, least of all one with eyes that seem to see right through ye.

Still, as he lingered in the doorway, he couldn’t quite shake the pull of her. He let himself imagine, just for a moment, what it might feel like to hold her. To draw her into his arms and let her warmth seep into him, to have his own self drawn into her heat. He swallowed heavily, the desire for her too strong, too overpowering.