Page 11

S everal thoughts raced through Evander’s mind as he made his way back to his quarters, a maelstrom of emotions he couldn’t exactly put into words warring inside him. His hand tightened around the vial she had handed him, the tumultuous battle in his head causing him to trip over a stone.

“Ach!” He let out a curse, feeling a bolt of pain shoot up his foot.

He looked down at the stone, utter disdain written all over his face, before continuing on to his quarters.

He needed to do something, and he needed to do it now . Something to dispel the thoughts in his head, the unanswered questions she had left him with.

He should not be feeling this way about her, not in the slightest. She was a widow. She belonged to the former Laird, and even though the man was dead, Evander planned to make sure it remained that way.

When he pushed open the door to his room, the maid he had called to take care of the baby goat jerked her head up and turned to him. His eyes darted from her nervous face to the baby goat, which was cradled in her arms.

“M’Laird,” she greeted in a meek voice.

“I thought I told ye to leave already.”

“Dinnae be angry, M’Laird. I changed me mind instead and decided to take the goat and?—”

“And what? Return it to the stables so it gets trampled by the horses? Is that it? Or do ye want to return it to its maither?”

“I dinnae?—”

“Where is its maither? Do ye ken?”

“I—”

“So far, I cannae hear anything except mumblings. I told ye I’ll take care of it, and I plan to.”

The maid swallowed and bobbed a quick curtsy. “I apologize, M’Laird. I shall leave ye be.”

“Please,” he grunted.

The maid nodded and walked past him, the nervousness in her voice seeping into her gait, her feet skittering across the floor as she made her way to the door.

“Are ye nae forgetting something?”

The maid swallowed and turned to him. “Nay, M’Laird.”

Evander stared at her, wondering how long it was going to take before she realized it.

It took longer than he had hoped, and from the look of utter fear on her face, he knew it was going to take even longer if he let this go on any further.

“The goat.”

The maid’s eyes flicked to her arms, the baby goat still cradled in them. A low gasp escaped her lips, and she gently lowered the goat to the floor. It scurried across the room and dove right under the bed.

A mild smirk curved Evander’s lips. “Fetch me man-at-arms. Tell him to get me an axe. There is something I need to take care of.”

“Right away, M’Laird,” the maid squeaked.

Just as quick as she had come, she had gone, leaving him to his thoughts and Keira’s lingering scent. It was like he could still feel her body in his arms and taste her kiss on his lips.

He walked to the study and looked around it. The firelight flickered as a gust of wind seeped through the window, and the smell of musty old books filled his nostrils.

Whoever the former Laird was, one thing was certain—he had not spent a lot of time in this study.

While the maids did everything they could to ensure that his entire quarters, including the study and the bathing chamber, were quaint and clean, he could still tell that the books hadn’t been opened in a while.

He remembered seeing some books by the bedside the day he occupied the room for the first time—the same day Keira had walked in and slept next to him without knowing he was there.

It became more obvious, just from the sight of the study, that Keira herself must have been the one reading the books and not the former Laird.

“Ye are a most intriguing woman, are ye nae?” Evander whispered, almost to himself. “Every time I learn something new about ye, it’s like I havenae even begun to scratch the surface.”

It sank deeper inside him; the realization that Keira was a temptation—and a brilliant one at that. One he was going to ensure he conquered one way or another.

The baby goat cried from underneath his bed, pulling him out of his thoughts.

He knelt on the floor and peeked under the bed. The creature’s sharp golden eyes stared back at him, and for a moment, they exchanged a look of understanding, of appreciation.

“We need to find ye a place to sleep, do we nae?” Evander muttered to the goat. “Me quarters can only do so much.”

He rose to his feet, a determined look on his face. He would have to find a place for the goat to stay one way or another. There had to be a place in the garden or the courtyard. Some place that would prevent the goat from getting trampled whenever the horses were let out to graze.

Suddenly, a knock sounded at the door, and he turned to it. “Rory, is that ye?”

“Aye, M’Laird,” Rory’s voice rang clearly through the wood that separated them.

His man-at-arms walked in, and Evander’s eyes almost immediately fell on the handle of the axe in his hand.

“So ye got me message.”

“Aye. What do ye need the axe for? Perhaps I can help ye with it.”

“Nay. ‘Tis something I must do on me own, I’m afraid.”

Evander reached out his hand and could see the mild hesitation on Rory’s face before he handed him the axe.

“Ye can relax. I dinnae plan to kill anyone. Nae yet anyway,” Evander muttered and grabbed the axe tightly.

Without uttering another word, he walked out of the room, feeling his man-at-arms follow right behind him. Their footsteps were coated in nothing but silence and the occasional bleat from the baby goat under his bed.

“I have discovered that the path leading to the Great Hall is littered with large stones. I cannae let people get injured because of those stones,” Evander began, his voice casual and calm, as if he was reciting from a pamphlet.

“But the inhabitants of this castle have lived this way for quite a while. I dinnae think it has ever affected them.”

Evander smirked. “Nae now. But it will.”

Their footsteps echoed off the stone as they made their way to the path leading to the Great Hall. Soon, they got there, and Evander gently kicked at one of the stones—a huge red clump jutting sharply from the floor.

“One would think it had been placed there deliberately.”

“Ye dinnae think Lady Blythe would do that to ye, do ye?” Rory asked, his eyes narrowing.

“Nay. She wouldnae do that. If she wanted to hurt me, she would make certain that it affected me and me alone. This affects her clansfolk as well, so I would assume she didnae see it in the first place.”

Rory nodded.

Evander swung the axe down. The impact of the blade on the stone made it shift. He swung again and again until, one after the other, the stones began to shift out of place. Rory watched from a distance as his master worked.

“Are ye certain ye dinnae want me to take over? I can do the rest by meself,” Rory offered.

Evander shook his head. “Nay.”

He must have been there for thirty minutes or even longer, swinging hard and desperately at the stones, because when he was done, he could feel sweat running down his back.

The passageway had grown darker, which could only mean one thing—the sun was setting. He rose to his feet and flung the axe across the floor, staring like his life depended on it. His eyes searched the floor and the stones that littered it.

“Get the men to remove those stones. Ye can dump them in the courtyard or the stables—I dinnae care. But the stones cannae stay here,” he commanded, his voice sharp.

“Aye, M’Laird,” Rory responded.

Evander looked down at himself. He could feel his hair clinging to his head and the beads of sweat that ran down his face.

“She’s here,” Rory suddenly whispered.

Evander frowned as the light footsteps grew louder. He turned around and came face to face with her . As Rory walked away, Keira walked closer to him.

“What in God’s name are ye doing?” she shrieked as she stared at the scattered stones. “Do ye want to destroy the castle as well?”

Evander narrowed his eyes and moved closer to her. “Nay.”

Her eyes scanned the floor again, and he could tell the exact moment it hit her—what it was he had been doing.

“Ye’re quite welcome, by the way.”

She swallowed. “I never thought?—”

“I plan to host a cèilidh,” he cut her off.

If they lingered in the silence any longer, it may lead to something else. Something he was not quite ready to face just yet.

He could see the hesitation in her eyes as well. She had a lot to say. She just didn’t want to say it. So, for now, he would take the burden from her.

“When the rest of me people get settled in by the end of the week, I shall host one. I am hoping ye will find a husband at this cèilidh.”

Keira nodded. “I see.”

Silence again, one filled with Keira smiling this time around.

“What?” He asked, narrowing his eyes at her.

“I dinnae think ye care that much about me to host a?—”

“The cèilidh is for me and me people.” Evander’s voice had been sharp, almost snippy. “Dinnae get any ideas. Finding ye a husband just happens to be a secondary coincidence.”

Keira swallowed. “I see.”

“Aye. And once ye do, ye can finally leave the castle.”

“If I didnae ken better, I would say ye are chasing me away,” she muttered.

“And if I didnae ken better, I would say ye dinnae want us to move on from what happened at the apothecary.”

She swallowed.

“Find. A. Husband,” he enunciated and moved closer to her, his eyes briefly searching hers for something. Something he had yet to understand. He didn’t even know what he was searching for. “That way, we can put all of this behind us.”

Keira narrowed her eyes at him, her lips puckered in what he imagined to be mild anger. Before he could say anything else, she turned on her heel and walked back the way she had come.

He watched her leave, almost counting her footsteps in his head.

“They’re on their way,” Rory’s voice called behind him, jolting him back to the present.

He turned around and came face to face with his man-at-arms again.

A confused frown creased Rory’s brow. “Is everything all right, M’Laird?”

Evander swallowed, staring at him, a million thoughts crossing his mind at once.

“Nay,” he finally responded.

He looked down at his shirt, which now clung to his chest, and turned in the direction of his room.

“I need a bath.”