Page 29

T he morning of the cèilidh, Evander awoke with a mild throb in the back of his head. His headache had abated yesterday after Lesley gave him the chamomile tea, and his horse ride with Arthur, no matter how much he wanted to deny it, helped a lot.

He looked out the window at the bright blue sky. The sun must have been out for quite a while now, which meant he must’ve been sleeping for quite longer than necessary.

He had his bath and stepped out of his room, a short yawn escaping his lips as he made his way to the entrance of the castle. Some maids watched him intently as he walked, and other members of his clan who had come to visit from nearby or afar stopped to greet him and he responded.

He stopped by the dining hall, watching the spread of food on the table, untouched.

“Mornin’, M’Laird,” one of the maids greeted. Evander nodded at her in return. “The food is for ye and the other Lairds. I have asked them to come eat, but they have refused. They said they wouldnae eat unless ye’re here with them.”

Evander shuffled his feet and stared at the spread again, then back at the maid. “Aye. I need to feed the goat. Tell them to come down and that I’ll join them shortly.”

“Aye, M’Laird.” The maid nodded, curtsying.

Evander made his way out of the castle, the cold morning air kissing his face and sending a wave of relief through him. He walked across the courtyard, ignoring the children all playing around the training era, chasing each other with what he could imagine to be training sticks.

It did not matter. After this night, everything would change. He threw some leaves and stems at the goat and watched it nibble at them. Then, like the smell had given it approval, it proceeded to eat them one after the other.

For the past hour, he had managed not to think about Keira. However, she was the only thing that overtook his thoughts once he laid eyes on Thistle.

“Ye reckon she was serious about nae attending the cèilidh?” he whispered, eyeing the goat as it continued to chew on his food without even looking up. He sucked on his teeth. “Aye, it doesnae matter anyway. Most of me friends are here.”

He rose after a while and headed back to the dining hall, where his friends were sitting around the table, waiting for him.

“Ah. See who has finally decided to join us,” Gerald boomed, a smirk on his face as he watched Evander walk into the dining hall and head toward an empty chair.

“About time,” Marcus said, slowly lowering the cup of water he’d been holding to the table.

Evander’s eyes skimmed over the others, who watched him intently as well, smiles on their faces.

“Where did ye go again?” Gerald asked, brushing a stray strand of hair from his face.

Evander noticed almost immediately that his friend’s long hair was tied at the back.

“Aye. I thought we’d meet ye here,” Marcus piped up, his piercing blue eyes boring into him.

“Let him be, gentlemen. He probably needed time to himself,” Arthur interjected.

Evander pulled out the empty chair next to him and eased himself into it.

“’Tis alright, ye didnae miss anything interesting,” Arthur whispered to him.

Evander smirked as a maid moved closer and piled food on the plate before him.

“So, ‘tis a big day.” Hector, who was sitting across from him, reclined into his seat. “Are ye ready to face it?”

“’Tis just a cèilidh, Hector. I have hosted hundreds of them,” Evander responded, in full disbelief at how the lie had come so easily to him.

It wasn’t just a cèilidh. He knew how terribly distraught he would be if Keira refused to show up.

“Is she coming? Lady Blythe?” Arthur asked, his voice low.

Evander turned to him, his eyes narrowed.

“Ye have tried so hard nae to talk about her. I figured it out during our ride yesterday.”

Evander shifted in his seat, not answering.

“The only reason ye have refused to talk about her is either because ye hate her—which is nae the case, since she is still in the castle—or because ye want with her.”

Evander swallowed hard, unable to form words.

“So, ‘tis the latter,” Arthur whispered, laughing. “Ye have to do something about that, Evander.”

“’Tis nae that simple.”

“’Tis incredibly simple to me, from where I stand. Ye ask her to marry ye, and she will. I ken she would’ve found a way out of the castle if she dinnae care for ye as well,” Arthur continued.

“Nay. she’s only here because she has nowhere to go,” Evander retorted.

A slight smirk tugged at Arthur’s lips. “She would have found a way out of the castle if she dinnae have feelings for ye, ” he insisted, his voice clearer.

Evander swallowed. “I dinnae ken what to do.”

Arthur leaned closer. “Ask her to marry ye at the cèilidh.”

“She’s nae coming.”

“Oh, she is.”

“Nay, she told me that she wouldnae be there.”

“Evander, trust me,” Arthur urged, his voice drowned out by the multiple conversations around them. “She will be there.”

The slow dance was only a few minutes away from starting when she walked in.

Evander had searched the room for her for hours earlier, hoping—no, praying that she didn’t make good on her promise not to attend.

His hopes were, in fact, about to get dashed when she walked in. His eyes found her almost immediately.

She stood at the entrance, her fingers intertwined, her eyes sweeping over the room. At that moment, it felt to Evander as if everything had stopped. The music, the murmurs, the footsteps of the guests milling around. Everything suddenly faded into the background, and all he could see was her.

She was wearing a deep blue dress that seemed to catch the flickering firelight. Her bodice was intricately designed and embroidered with crystals and jewels. A string of white pearls rested around her neck, and her hair had been swept up into an elegant updo.

He felt like he was staring at a completely different person, someone he would not be able to resist, no matter how hard he tried when it came down to it. Her eyes, on the other hand, continued to search the hall until they landed on him.

A long look passed between them. Like they were the only ones in the room, communicating with nothing but their eyes. Then, she smiled at him. Not the wide, mischievous smile that she usually gave, not the kind he could paint from memory, but a wane smile. One that didn’t reach her eyes.

A hand on his arm jolted him back to the present, and he turned to find Arthur, who had a smile on his face.

“I told ye she would come, did I nae?”

Evander didn’t respond. He looked back at the doorway. She was no longer there. His eyes found her almost immediately as she mingled with the other guests.

“Are ye going to keep staring at her, or are ye going to do something about it?”

Evander raised his glass to his lips and took a sip of his drink. “’Tis nae that easy.”

“’Tis the easiest thing in the world. Ye would walk up to her and ask for a dance.”

Hector, who seemed to be listening in on their conversation, joined them, the same knowing smile on his face. “Is this about Lady Blythe?”

“Aye,” Arthur responded. “And our courageous friend here, who has refused to talk to her.”

“’Tis nae that easy, Arthur.”

“Why? Ye just walk up to her and ask her to dance,” Hector pointed out.

“Look, I already informed her that she could find a husband here—that was before we had an altercation. Now that she’s here, I ken she’s trying to find a husband.”

Arthur sighed. “Ach. Well, if ye plan nae to do anything about it, perhaps I will.”

“What are ye talking about?” Evander asked.

Arthur didn’t respond. He only turned on his heel and braved the crowd.

“Arthur!” Evander called, his voice on the edge of a growl.

His friend didn’t respond.

“Arthur!” Evander called louder.

Still no response.

Keira’s eyes continued to scan the Great Hall. The maids had to work overtime to get this place cleaned and ready for the cèilidh, and she made a mental note to express her appreciation later when this was all over.

It still did not trump the fact that she felt lost as she continued to walk around the room, acknowledging people who walked past her and greeted her. Most of the people in here were strangers to her, so it made sense they wouldn’t recognize her.

“Ye look quite breathtaking, Lady Blythe,” a voice had called behind her, halting her in her tracks.

It wasn’t Evander. It was a completely different voice, one filled with ruggedness and playfulness at the same time.

She gently spun on her heel and came face to face with a tall man who had his hands folded behind his back. The second thing she noticed was the eye patch covering his eye.

“Arthur Ross, at yer service,” he announced, offering a short bow.

“Keira,” she responded, the shyness in her voice evident. She felt uncomfortable thinking that Evander might be seeing her talking to this man. Damn him, why would she care?

Arthur moved closer to her just as the music started, his unwaveringly calm gaze fixed on hers. Keira noticed the green flecks in his eye and how full of life it seemed to be.

He reached out his hand. “Do ye mind if I have this dance?”

Keira smiled, a deep flush creeping up her cheeks, and gently took his hand.

They began to sway to the music, their feet moving in sync on the floor, like water.

“Ye must have been a great lady,” Arthur murmured. “The people in here and the village have nothing but good things to say about ye.”

“I try me best,” Keira offered.

Arthur spun her, and as she turned around, her eyes caught Evander staring back at her. Her eyes also caught the pure danger in his look.

She changed positions with Arthur, and now she could see Evander perfectly. Through the crowd and amongst the oblivious people, she could see him clenching his jaw, his grip tightening on the glass in his hand. She could see his other hand curling into a fist.

“Sometimes, yer best is all ye need,” Arthur commented.

Keira laughed in response, her hands securely placed around his neck.