Page 22

H er eyes flew open with the sun, and so did all the memories of what had happened the previous night. She was in her bed, and the ghastly sun rays were beginning to filter into the room through her window, bathing the room in a yellowish hue.

She was awake, yet for some reason, she felt like she needed to remain asleep as long as possible.

She didn’t feel like leaving her bed or even taking a bath, but she had to do it.

Her maids would come knocking anytime soon, and while their concern came from a good place, she knew she wouldn’t be able to take questions from them.

As she rose from the bed, memories of the night before and even more flashed across her mind. The heated discussion she had with Evander, the slow realization that they were both helpless and there was nothing either of them could do about it.

She was surprised that she had even managed to get a few hours of sleep after being overcome with emotion throughout the previous night. Her head throbbed as she headed to the bathing chamber, a sign of a poor night’s sleep.

Like clockwork, her door slid open, and Stella walked in slowly, her hands politely folded before her.

“Good morning, M’Lady,” she greeted, her voice low and somewhat soft. “I apologize if I ruined yer sleep last night. It was never me intention to?—”

“I ken what ye meant to do last night, Stella. It is quite all right.”

Stella nodded.

A tense silence descended between them, punctuated only by hoofbeats and the sound of livestock from below the castle, before Keira broke it again.

“How is the food supply coming along?”

“Going quite well, M’Lady. We just need to sort out a few more things and we will be good to go.”

“That is quite wonderful,” she responded.

“Let me run yer bath quickly.” Stella offered and hurried into the other room.

Keira sat on one side of her bed, watching her maid get to work.

Stella moved seamlessly across the tub and she couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if Fletcher had lived.

She didn’t even know why her thoughts wandered to him, but they did. Would he have killed her as well?

A mild shudder swept down her body. Part of her wondered as well if Fletcher would have even killed her if she had been unable to bear him children.

“I am done, M’Lady,” Stella announced, drawing her out of the horrific reverie.

Keira gave her a grateful glance right before taking off her shift.

“Do ye need me help with that? I can?—”

“’Tis quite all right, Stella.” Keira laughed.

She tossed the shift onto her bed and watched the young maid head to her wardrobe, rifling through her dresses.

“Is there anyone I need to see today?”

“Nae yet, M’Lady. Well, nae later in the day.”

Keira frowned and stared at Stella. “What do ye mean by that?”

“The Laird’s sister-in-law, Lady Kincaid, and her son, asked after ye at breakfast.”

“Oh, did they, now? Was the Laird nae enough entertainment for them?” she asked as she approached the tub, peering into the water.

“The Laird was also nae in attendance, M’Lady.” Stella’s voice cut through the momentary relief she had felt from staring at the water.

Keira frowned and turned around. “What did ye say?”

“The Laird wasnae at breakfast,” Stella repeated.

Keira swallowed. Did he think she was going to be at the dining hall and had refused to come out just to avoid talking to her?

“Did ye take a breakfast tray to his room?” she asked.

“Aye. But he wasnae in his room, either,” Stella replied.

Keira absorbed those words as slowly and as carefully as she could. She turned back to the water and stepped into it.

“A stable boy said that he had left with a horse at first light,” Stella continued.

Keira lowered herself into the tub, the water slowly covering her body right up to her neck. She splashed a handful across her face, the coldness a pleasant distraction from the tumultuous thoughts racing through her head.

“And he didnae say where he was going?” she asked, wiping the excess water off her face.

“Nay.” Stella shook her head.

It lingered in the back of her head, the throbbing, dull headache she had thought she could avoid. Now that she couldn’t help but wonder where he could’ve possibly gone, the headache throbbed harder.

She splashed another handful of water across her face.

He would return—he always did. And before then, she needed to prepare for him, for what she would say and how she would react to his words.

It was evident to her now that he had left to face his feelings in his own way as well.

She had to find her own way to deal with it, and she knew for certain that it would involve a visit to the apothecary.

“Tell Lady Kincaid that I shall join her and her son for lunch,” she instructed, wiping her brow.

“Understood, M’Lady. Would ye also like to have yer breakfast in yer room as well?”

“Aye,” she responded, dunking her head in the water.

She heard footsteps, and then the door clicked open and shut.

Stella had left, and she was left to her thoughts once again, even if for a little while.

She tried her best to ignore the throbbing in her head by occupying herself with other matters, like her next meeting with Harold, to determine who was responsible for everything that had been happening for quite some time.

But it did not help. If anything, her headache only worsened.

She stepped out of the bath and slipped into the dress Stella had laid out for her. Her maid brought her breakfast only a few minutes later—a spread of bread, cheese, and some venison.

The preparations for the cèilidh were underway, so the kitchens had been very busy since the previous day. She remembered overhearing Evander saying that he intended to make it as extravagant as possible, and that meant more of his people would arrive from several parts of the village.

More unknown faces around the castle, more reasons for her to find a husband as soon as possible and leave while she still had her dignity intact.

Lesley rose from her chair and headed to the cupboard. Keira, on the other hand, relaxed into her chair, letting the smell of herbs and roots in the apothecary transport her to places unknown.

While her headache had not fully abated, she felt immensely better for some reason now that she was here, with her friend.

“When did the headache start?” Lesley asked, still rifling through the vials and poultices in the cupboard.

Keira threw her head back as if to think. Certainly, she had felt the headache this morning, but what if it had started the day before?

“Ye dinnae ken when it started?” Lesley asked, turning around to her.

“I am trying to think about it.”

“Ye’re trying to think about when the pain in yer head started?”

“Do ye want to cure me or judge me?” Keira huffed, narrowing her eyes at her friend.

She couldn’t raise her voice more than that, and she was certain her friend could tell.

“I would never judge ye, Lady Blythe.”

“Are ye enjoying yerself?” Keira asked, leveling a scowl at her friend, who had the most amused expression on her face.

Lesley laughed. “Quite incredibly if I do say so meself.”

“It is nice to ken that at least one of us can find the humor in this.”

Lesley continued to rifle through the top shelf of the cupboard.

“The Laird’s family wants me to have breakfast with them,” Keira blurted.

Lesley stopped for the better half of a second and then continued to rummage through a small section in the cupboard, pulling out vials and roots, her eyes peeled for something in particular.

“And what did ye tell them?”

“That I shall have lunch with them instead.”

Lesley nodded. “Do they ken that ye’re leaving this castle soon? That Laird Kincaid had taken over?”

“Aye. I am certain they’re very aware that their Laird took the castle.”

“Ye think it’s false politeness?” Lesley asked, a sigh of relief escaping her lips.

She reached into the space she had been looking through and pulled out what looked like the bark of a tree Keira could not be bothered to recognize, especially at this moment.

“That is precisely what I intend to find out during lunch.”

“And how are ye going to do that, with the headache ye have?”

“Ye’re the healer, are ye nae? Ye tell me,” Keira responded.

Lesley reached for a small mortar and dropped the bark into it. Then, she reached for a cup of water on the other end of her working table and poured a splash into it.

“Willow bark,” she explained, noticing Keira’s curious gaze on her and the pestle. She began to ground, all while explaining without breaking her rhythm. “It should soothe the ache ye say ye have in yer head.”

“Will it get me through lunch with the Kincaids?”

Lesley looked up at her. “That depends on ye, Keira.”

A mild frown creased Keira’s brow. “On me? How?”

“Look…” Lesley continued, her hands moving in a swiveling motion. Keira’s eyes followed the motions as if entranced. “I ken that ye have an ache in yer head. I also ken that willow bark will work if ye let it.”

“If I let it?” Keira asked, a flicker of surprise crossing her face.

“I believe I may ken a reason or even three for yer headache.”

“Lesley, I dinnae understand what ye—” Keira started, then she froze, the realization hitting her almost as immediately as the smell of the root her friend was grinding did.

“Ye think the Laird is causing me headache?”

“Ye had tapestries put up yesterday, Keira. It doesnae take a scholar to ken the cause of yer headache. If anything, I am quite surprised it didnae occur to ye more quickly.”

Keira rubbed her forehead. “Ye cannae understand.”

“What else is there to understand? He had swooped in from out of nowhere, taken yer home right from under ye, and had confronted ye so many times that ye felt the need to put up borders around the castle. He even confronted ye in the apothecary the other day.”

Keira swallowed, the tangy smell of the willow bark managing to twist the memories she had of the other day with Evander in the apothecary.

When she had kissed him for the second time.

Or was it he who had kissed her? The memories, no matter how hard she tried to hold on to them, were unfortunately beginning to blur into each other.

It didn’t even matter anymore.

“If ye want to take care of yerself, I reckon ye need to get completely over the Laird. Ignore him completely and dinnae allow for any reason to be in a room with him. Ye’re under quite a lot of stress, and ‘tis what I believe is causing yer headache.”

“’Tis more complicated than that,” she mumbled.

She couldn’t tell Lesley any of the things that had happened since then. Not about the night she had with Evander, the way he had worshipped her with his fingers and mouth. The way he had almost made her see the heavens with his tongue.

Something told her that Lesley was not ready to hear any of that, and if she was being frank with herself, she was not ready to share any of it, either.

“I am quite worried about ye, Keira. Perhaps ye have been a widow for quite a long time and it is beginning to affect ye for the worse. I hear there’s a cèilidh this week. Perhaps ye can change that. Ye should put all dastardly thoughts about the Laird behind ye.”

“I dinnae plan to attend the cèilidh,” Keira declared as Lesley poured the contents of the mortar into a clean cup and handed it to her.

“What?” Lesley asked, watching her friend down the willow bark in one sip.

“I willnae be at the cèilidh,” Keira repeated.

It was never a question. The event was for Evander and his people. She wasn’t needed.

The cèilidh is for me and me people.

He had made it clear, and as such, she planned to bless them with her absence.

The thought of finding a husband there sounded quite mad now.

She was never going to find a husband. Not at the cèilidh, and certainly not from his clan.

It was all a pipe dream. Something she had convinced herself of to make herself feel better about the damning fact that she may never find a husband.

But Lesley was right about one thing—the fact that Evander might be the sole cause of her headache. She was also right about the fact that she needed to avoid him. And that was what she intended to do from here on out. The borders might work, but only for a while. She needed to put in the effort.

She needed to stay out of sight. And that was what she planned to do.

Avoid Evander as much as possible.