Page 9

E vander stepped into the Laird’s quarters, the faint smell of fresh wood and water filling his nostrils.

A maid had informed him that Lady Blythe had fully vacated the room and he could now properly occupy it when he was ready. A mildly surprised expression had crossed his face at the thought.

“I thought she refused to come down for breakfast because she didnae want to give it up. What changed her mind?” he had asked the maid.

“I am afraid I cannae answer that, M’Laird. I dinnae ken either.”

He nodded. Whatever it was, at least he had the room now and could use it however he pleased.

After he had finished eating his lunch, he retired to his room, ready to take a bath after riding in the sun most of the morning. Now that he was in his room, he could appreciate it even more.

It was empty, cleaned out, and pristine. The question he couldn’t exactly answer was whether this room was better than the one in his previous castle because, with each passing day, the memory of his former quarters kept fading from his mind.

He relaxed into the comfort and let himself get carried away by the new freedom. Except he couldn’t enjoy it fully, because a cold shudder ran down his back at the mere thought of sleeping alone in the room.

Why couldn’t a small part of him stop wishing that Lady Blythe was sleeping in his bed, waiting for him just like he had done the previous night?

He took a deep breath and paced around the room, slowly taking it in. The last time he was in the room, he had been so tired that he didn’t have the time to study the furniture and decor before falling asleep. Now that he could, he felt a new appreciation for it.

He turned to the maid, who was lingering by the door, watching him with a mix of nervousness and intrigue.

“Inform me man-at-arms that I need to see him as soon as possible. I need some of me things in here. The room is too empty.”

“Aye, M’Laird,” the maid responded.

Evander turned back and walked toward the edge of the bed, the memories of the previous night replaying over and over in his mind.

He could practically feel where he stood as Lady Blythe had challenged him.

Where he stood as she grabbed the covers and wrapped them around herself.

He could see the shock on her face. The despair and the utter disdain for him in her bright hazel eyes.

Why could he not stop thinking about her face the previous night? Why could he not stop thinking about her entirely?

At some point, it felt like she had occupied his mind for most of the morning, and he wondered if it would have been the case if she had come down for breakfast. Maybe if she had?—

He felt something bump his knee. His brow creased.

What?

He looked down and saw a baby goat—possibly the baby goat—head-butting his leg.

“What in the—” he sputtered, staring down at the creature, who looked up at him.

He was rooted to the spot for half a second.

“Now, what are ye doing in here?” he muttered, studying the goat carefully.

Had it wandered and found its way to his quarters? Was there something underneath his bed that had drawn the goat’s attention? Did someone?—

The confused frown on his face vanished, and realization crashed straight into him like a flood.

Keira.

He looked up at the doorway as the goat let out a strangled bleat. The maid had left.

He stepped away from his bed and made straight to the doorway, hoping to find someone to ask. Sure enough, the maid returned to the hallway right at that moment, the same nervous expression he had seen earlier still resting on her face.

“Mr. Rory said that he would be with ye soon,” she relayed, her voice slightly shaky.

“That is quite alright, thank ye,” Evander murmured, then narrowed his eyes at her. “But I am afraid there’s another issue. Why is there a baby goat in me room?”

The maid’s eyes widened, and a heavy silence descended on the room. She looked everywhere but into his eyes.

“I dinna have time to wait around for ye to answer,” he pressed.

“I dinnae ken what ye’re?—”

“Nay. That is nae what we are going to do. There is a baby goat in me room. In the Laird’s quarters. What I want to ken is how it got here in the first place.”

The maid remained frozen on the spot, unable to speak.

A dark chuckle escaped Evander’s lips.

Keira was good. She was really good. And if she thought a baby goat would deter him from occupying the room, she had another thing coming.

“I am so sorry, M’Laird.”

Evander raised an eyebrow, pleased that he was finally getting somewhere. “Sorry about what?”

The maid swallowed. “Her Ladyship asked us to keep it here.”

He scoffed. “To keep it here for what?”

“The goat isnae very strong, and she had ordered us to keep it here till it is strong enough.”

Another scoff escaped his lips.

Till it is strong enough.

He was certain Keira was enjoying every minute of this—wherever she was.

“And why would she ask ye to keep a baby goat here, of all places? There are several rooms in the castle ye could have kept it. Why here?”

The maid swallowed and refused to say anything.

Another realization dawned on Evander at that moment. The servants were loyal to her. Like really loyal.

“Who do ye take orders from? Me or her?”

The maid remained quiet, and Evander could see it—the initial nervousness in her expression slowly morphing into fear.

“Ye can leave.”

“M’Laird, if it is quite all right with ye, I can take it to the Great Hall instead?—”

“I said, leave. I will handle it meself.”

The maid swallowed and turned away amidst the continuous bleats of the baby goat, who had crawled under the bed. Soon, she was gone, and Evander was left to his thoughts, his empty quarters, and a goat who wouldn’t stop screaming.

What was he going to do with Keira Elliot?

“Here, take this,” Lesley urged, handing Keira a steaming cup of?—

“What’s in it?”

“Drink, now.”

So, a steaming cup of something.

Keira stared at the black liquid, which stared right back at her, and swallowed. She trusted Lesley with her life—she had seen her at work over the past few months.

Lesley had healed many soldiers who had come back from the war wounded in one way or another. Yet, the mere thought of drinking what looked like heated blood turned her stomach for some reason.

She turned to Hudson, who was seated in the corner of the apothecary, watching their exchange.

“Do ye mind?” she asked, extending the cup toward him.

“That drink isnae for me, M’Lady,” he responded, a nervous chuckle escaping his lips.

“Traitor,” Keira whispered and then brought the steaming cup back to her lips.

She stared at the liquid one more time, worry written all over her face.

“’Tis only Rosehip tea, Keira. Stop acting like a child.”

Keira nodded, took a deep breath, and under piercing looks from both her man-at-arms and her friend, she tipped the cup and downed the tea. Warmth coated her tongue as she drank.

Then she handed the cup back to Lesley, whose lips curled into a smirk. Lesley took the cup and put it on the nearby table.

“Why did ye give me that?”

“Ye have been spending more time with the villagers. The last thing I need—nay, the last thing any of us needs is ye falling sick. We cannae have the lady of the castle falling apart, especially now.”

Keira laughed, warmed by her friend’s concern. “Dinnae worry, I willnae fall sick anytime soon. As for remaining the lady of the castle, I cannae promise ye that much.”

“Och, well, nay matter what happens, ye will always be Me Lady of the castle,” Lesley declared.

“Mine as well,” Hudson added.

The conversation then veered to the goings-on in the villages and how these strangers who had come from an enemy clan were settling in.

“A friend informed me that one of the Laird’s men forcefully bought some food and refused to pay full price. He kept saying that he never had to pay that much back in his clan,” Lesley said.

Keira rolled her eyes and rubbed her forehead with her thumb. “And how much of a problem is this turning out to be?”

“Quite a huge one, M’Lady,” Hudson piped up. “But the Laird doesnae seem to be making any trouble so far. All he wants to ken for now is who burned his castle. He is insistent that the culprit is one of our men because he was wearing the clan’s tartan.”

“Is that it?”

“Aye. It was mostly what he spoke about on our ride this morning.”

“And he didnae talk about anything else?”

“There was barely any conversation on the way, M’Lady. I would say it was more of a race than a ride.”

Keira frowned. “How so?”

As Hudson opened his mouth to respond, the door to the apothecary swung open.

Keira’s head snapped toward the loud noise, and she saw Evander standing in the doorway. Angry.

He must have seen the baby goat.

As he walked into the room, his feet barely touching the floor, part of her could not help but wonder if she had taken things a little too far.

“Leave. Now,” he growled.

“Aye, M’Laird,” Hudson and Lesley said in unison and rose to their feet.

Keira did this same, unsure of where this was going but ready to obey anyway. She turned to the others, and they made their way toward the open door. She walked past him but didn’t reach the door because, once again, his hand had clamped around her wrist and pulled her to a halt.

“Nae ye, M’Lady,” he whispered, his breath fanning her neck.

A deep flush crept up her cheeks, and she cursed the effect he seemed to have on her.

Hudson and Lesley did not turn around until they stepped out of the room, and only then did they notice that their mistress was not behind them.

Evander did not waste a moment, moving quickly to the door and dragging Keira along with him, his hand still curled around her wrist.

“M’Lady—” Hudson called, but Evander slammed the door shut in his face and locked it.

“What are ye doing?” Keira hissed, looking up at him when he finally let go of her hand.

She tried to push him away, but he wouldn’t budge.

“Nay. What are ye doing? Do ye think this is some kind of jest? Is this all really amusing to ye?”

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

“Come off it, lass.”

“I still dinnae?—”

“I’m talking about the goat in me room.”

“Oh. That?”

“Aye. That. ”

“I apologize if I have wronged ye, M’Laird. Since ye mentioned that ye couldnae sleep last night, I thought a companion might do ye some good,” Keira explained in an apologetic tone.

The corners of his lips quirked up. “Ye came to me room, nae the other way round, remember?”

“I was just trying to help, Mr. Kinca?—”

“ Laird. And what, ye thought it would be fun to anger me with such games?”

Keira placed her hands over her heart, a dramatic gasp escaping her lips. “Anger ye? I could never do that to ye.”

She was aware, to a point, just how close they were.

His face was barely a foot from hers. She could see clearly the brown in his eyes.

It was the second and rather clearer time she noticed just how deep it was—so brown it was almost black.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she stared at him, at the set of his jaw and his piercing gaze.

“So ye want to please me? If ye dinnae want to anger me, it can only mean ye promise to do everything I say when I say it,” he murmured, moving closer to her, a slight smirk playing on his lips.

“Nay.” She finally dropped all pretense. “Ye may be the so-called Laird of this castle, but the last thing ye will ever do is force me to obey ye.”

He leaned in, his nose almost grazing hers. “Ye are unrelenting, do ye ken that?”

“And ye are the most insufferable and, frankly speaking, despicable man I have ever?—”

“Och!” he groaned and pulled her toward him, closing the gap between them.

His lips crashed into hers, and for a second, the world seemed to stop. Their tongues danced and battled as his lips moved frantically against hers, almost like he was fighting for dominance.

Keira slid her hand up to his neck and arched into him. His hands found her waist and pulled her even closer.

The kiss grew harder and more frantic as Keira pushed him back toward the door, the feel of his hard chest beneath her hands sending bolts of arousal through her body as she pressed him against the creaky door. Their passion and longing grew as the kiss deepened.

But then Keira broke the kiss and gulped in a lungful of air, feeling flushed from head to toe. She stared at Evander, whose lips were slightly parted.

“What the—” she sputtered, panting for breath.