Page 23

E vander returned only a few hours later, his heart pounding hard in his chest as he made his way through the castle gates and across the courtyard.

He cast a glance at the shelter and only found a few maids walking around, tending to the roaming animals.

No Keira. Usually, she was out by now, and part of him wondered if she was still in bed.

He rode to the other part of the castle, where her garden lay near the walls. There, he found her bent over the roses, her plain blue silk gown reflecting the sunlight. He jumped off his horse and motioned for one of the stable boys to lead it back to its stall.

“I thought I might find ye here,” he started, watching her pull out some weeds near her flowers, her hands streaked with the dark soil.

“Ye’re welcome, M’Laird,” she responded, her voice sharp and clear. But she didn’t turn to look up at him.

“M’Laird? Is that what ye want us to do now?”

“I dinnae ken what ye’re talking about.”

The curt responses she gave him told him one thing and one thing only—she wasn’t interested in talking to him. That much was obvious.

He racked his brain, wondering what could possibly be the reason.

“Ye dinnae want to ken where I just came back from?” he prodded, shuffling his feet across the soil, waiting for an answer, or at the very least, some kind of reaction.

“Nay, but I suppose ye will tell me anyway.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “I went to see some of me men who are currently investigating the cause of the fire in me castle. I went to ask them how much they’d learned about the supposed culprit.

I suppose they havenae exactly learned much, nae that it matters now anyway, but they have confirmed that the culprit did come from this clan. Clan Blythe.”

“I see.”

“And I thought that much had already been established, seeing as the man I chased into the woods that night was wearing this clan’s tartan. I’m starting to think they might be useless.”

“Oh, well.”

He shook his head. “Nay. That’s enough.”

Keira, her back still turned to him since he had accosted her, yanked another stem of weed out of the earth. “Enough of what?”

“Whatever this is,” Evander responded, gesturing toward her, signifying her entire demeanor. “And for the love of God, would ye look at me when I’m talking to ye?”

“Evander, I dinnae have the time for this.”

“Dinnae worry. When the cèilidh is over, ye will have all the time ye need.”

Keira swallowed. Now might as well be a good time as any. “I willnae be at the cèilidh.”

A pause ensued. It was heavy and strained and tugged rather strangely at Keira.

“Why nae?”

“’Tis for ye and yer people. All I’ll be doing is getting in the way.”

“Who said ye’ll be getting in the way? ‘Tis where we plan to find ye a husband, is it nae?”

A bitter laugh escaped Keira’s lips. “A husband? Really?”

“That was the plan, was it nae?”

Keira didn’t push any further; she just scoffed and continued her work.

“I’ll be busy that day. Yer people keep arriving in the castle every hour. Now, I have quite a lot of people to tend to.”

“Or avoid.”

Keira frowned. “What?”

Evander folded his hands over his chest. “Ye think I havenae seen ye trying to avoid me people as much as ye can? They’re some of the best people I’ve ever kenned.”

“Well, they killed some of me men.”

Keira’s sharp and loud response took him aback.

A mild frown crossed his face. Was this still about the night they had? To him, it was beginning to feel like something more nuanced, something way deeper than just that night. Something she evidently wasn’t telling him.

“ Ye killed some of me men,” Keira continued.

“Because someone from yer clan burned me castle. Ye think I didnae lose people too? Me nephew almost died.”

“Aye, well, the only difference is that me men actually died. Ye cannae compare them.”

“I am nae comparing them. Ye started this.”

“Nay. Ye started this. Taking me castle, sleeping in me bed, waiting for me to see if I’ll get into bed with ye?—”

“What?”

“Ye heard me, did ye nae?”

Evander could feel his blood rising. There was so much he wanted to say, but he couldn’t. Not now. He balled his hands into fists. He didn’t know what was more upsetting, the fact that Keira continued to bring up all of this or the mere fact that she was still doing it with her back turned to him.

“If ye’re going to disparage me, the least ye can do, Keira, is do it to me face.”

Keira said nothing.

“Ye have been nothing but cold to me people ever since they started arriving.”

“I havenae?—”

“Ye have. For the brief couple of minutes where ye thought Shona and Tommy were me wife and son, ye were going to be cold to them, too.”

“I was never going to be cold to them,” Keira retorted.

A tense silence descended between them, the wind howling in the background along with the usual bleats of the livestock trailing gently somewhere behind them.

“Ye need to get to ken these people, Keira,” Evander said, his voice lower now. “Ye dinnae need to wait till the cèilidh to learn some of their names. Ye can start by being warm to them now.”

He saw her stiffen at his words. She had completely stopped what she was doing for the better half of a minute, and then, as if nothing had happened, she continued to root out the weeds.

“Is this because I said I cannae marry ye? Ye have to understand that this isnae?—”

“Nay. This isnae about ye refusing to marry me, Evander,” she said, finally turning around to look at him. “And I dinnae appreciate the fact that ye think I’ll be like this just because of something ye said.”

“Keira—”

“I am a widow. Do ye think that any man out there, in his right senses, would want to settle down with me? Ye say ye want to find me a husband, but at the end of the day, if I do find a husband, it shall be someone like me first husband. One I had to marry strictly out of duty and because me cousin had decided that me face wasnae worth seeing around me faither’s castle anymore. ”

Evander swallowed. This was her first time revealing her past to him. He had thought of asking her where she was from several times, but not once had he ever thought it would be under these circumstances.

“So ye will have to forgive me if I am immensely skeptical about the cèilidh and whether or nae I shall find a husband.”

“Ye will,” he affirmed, a slight quiver in his voice.

It was there again, the disdain he always felt every time he tried to imagine her with another man.

Keira noticed immediately because of course she did. She threw her hands up in frustration. “And even if I did, will ye allow it?”

“Why will I nae allow it?”

She frowned, lifting her palm to her forehead. Evander noticed the slight wince as she looked past him.

“Are ye all right? Is it a headache?”

“Dinnae try to change the subject,” Keira snapped. “Ye told me last night that ye cannae imagine me with another man. Yet ye willnae marry me. So where does that leave me?”

“Keira—”

“Ye need me to be the perpetual widow of Blythe Castle, is that it? The woman whose room ye can go to whenever ye need to satisfy yer urges. Even better, ye can call me whenever ye need me to warm yer bed for ye, is that nae so?”

“That is nae what this is about, and ye ken that.”

“I dinnae think I do,” Keira countered. “And frankly, I dinnae think I want to.”

She turned back to her weeds and continued to pull. Evander stood behind her, watching her work. Her face contorted in another wince, and he watched her suck on her teeth.

“Keira, ye need to stop. Ye dinnae feel well.”

“Ach. If it is any concern of yers, I have gone to Lesley, and she has given me some medicine.”

“Did she also ken that ye will be coming to the garden to uproot weeds?”

Keira said nothing. Instead, she continued to work, her grip tight on the stems as she pulled, almost like she was taking all her frustrations out on the weeds instead of the main cause.

Him.

“Keira,” Evander murmured, his voice soft. “Ye need to stop.”

But instead of doing that, she yanked at the weeds more viciously.

Evander, feeling annoyed, had no choice but to take action. He reached for her hands and pulled them off the soil, watching the dirt slip down her palms.

“Stop!” he commanded, his voice on the edge of a growl.

Keira dusted her palms. “’Tis all right. I must have lunch with yer sister-in-law anyway.”

“Shona?” Evander asked, frowning.

“Aye. So much for me being cold to yer people, am I right?”

He watched her drop everything else in her hand and make her way toward the castle, away from him, not bothering to look back. Not even once.

He remained rooted to the spot. He understood her pain and where her frustration came from, but the fact that he had to be the main cause didn’t sit well with him. He balled his hands into fists, despising the fact that his mere presence had managed to cause a widow like her so much grief.

He turned around and walked to the stables, his steps quickening across the fresh soil in anger. He needed to unload his pent-up frustration, and he needed to find a way to do it as soon as possible.

“Where are the logs? The ones ye intend to use for fire?” he asked one of the stable boys who stood by, feeding some hay to the horses out of their stalls.

The boy turned around and looked at him. “M’Laird.”

“Where are the logs?”

“The servant who is in charge of breaking them is currently?—”

“Boy, ye should believe me when I say that the last thing ye want me to do right now is repeating meself unnecessarily. Where. Are. The. Logs?”

The boy, with utter fear and concern written all over his face, slowly pointed to the logs, which were only a few yards behind the stables.

Evander nodded and walked out, following the directions.

He was not certain he had ever been in this part of the castle before.

Ivy covered the fence, and thorns jutted out from both sides of the veiny stems as they ran down the wooden spikes and into the ground.

The blue sky contrasted greatly with the atmosphere, providing him with the most satisfying view.

He walked even further, and sure enough, he found the logs stacked atop each other in a neat pyramid.

A boy, perhaps only a bit older than the stable boy who had directed him, was axing the pieces of wood and throwing them to the side.

Evander walked to the boy, whose head snapped up almost immediately.

“M’Laird?” he greeted.

“Give me the axe. Go find something else to do.” Evander’s voice was curt and sharp as he stretched out his hand and waited for the boy to do as ordered.

“M’Laird, ye dinnae need to worry. This is me job, and I?—”

“And I am commanding ye to find something else to do,” Evander responded, his voice unwavering and his gaze unflinching on the boy.

The servants were still fiercely loyal to Keira, but that was not something he was prepared to dig into. At least not for now.

The boy nodded and handed him the axe. Evander gripped the handle tightly and watched the boy move away from him. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment as he walked to the logs, taking a deep breath before he started.

It was this or tearing the castle down with his bare hands.