Page 39 of Sinbound to the Highlander
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“Maither,” he interrupted her quietly. When she turned, he saw the same thoughtful expression. “How are ye?”
A flicker of her lips nearly turned into a smile, but it fell short, “Just kennin’ of yer Faither, Evan. How he would have loved to see ye now.”
Her words had him sobering up, but he pushed the feeling away. Perching on the window sill, he held out the urn, “Miss Crushom generously gave me a pot of healing salve for ye knees, Maither. Here, take it.”
She reached out and took the pot, plucking the flat cork out and sliding her fingers over the salve. She then put it to her nose. “‘Tis is goldenrod?”
“Aye,” he said, “with olive oil, some mandragora root, and sea salt. Use it tonight and tell me how it feels.”
“Did she make this?” his mother asked.
Had I told her about Freya?
“Aye, she did,” Evan said. “Back in the village she used to help the local healer, and she learned the arts from her,” he paused to chuckle. “We have a wager, if it works for ye, I have to bring her back something I ken it’s worth—” his eyes drifted to the window as he contemplated. Shaking his head, he stepped away, and added, “I’ve got to get some food and rest, Maither. I’ll see ye on the morrow.”
“Evan,” she called at his back, and when he turned, her expression was soft, but assessing. He waited for her to say something that voiced what was on her face, but she only nodded to herself, knowingly, “Take care, Son.”
“Same to ye, Maither,” he nodded and took to the hallway down to his room.
Whatever she had held back from telling him, he was not sure he wanted to know, he had to get himself in order first. Entering his room, Evan sat and removed his boots. With his feet flat on the floor, he placed his elbows on his knees and propped his head on his closed fists.
Elspeth deserves a chance to prove herself, but Freya is all I see…
He rubbed his forehead. Just as he had done before with seeing his castle through Freya’s eyes, Evan placed himself in Laird Lobhdain’s position with his engaged daughter. If he had a daughter who was spoken for, but then, then the groom-to-be came to him and told him he would rather have the other daughter than the one that was engaged to him, he’d be incensed.
Every angle he contemplated to lead into that conversation with Laird Lobhdain felt wrong, deceitful, hypocritical, and very cowardly. There was no way around it—he had to be blunt,tactful, but blunt.
If it comes to that point.
He sent a servant for his supper and then went back to piecing his case into one sensible argument. Even when his meal was delivered, he ate without any taste to the flavor of the food. Still, nothing felt right.
Desperately, he took to quill and paper to word out his thoughts, but, yet, it felt—wrong. Worst of all, he knew that this would jab another wall between Elspeth and Freya. He knew Elspeth was not enamored with her sister, but this was going to make it more miserable for her—but he needed Elspeth to prove herself before he was driven away.
How would Elspeth receive it that her rustic, uneducated sister, with little knowledge of the ‘important’ things or refined culture, would replace her? But there were traits that Freya had that Evan found were more important than being highly educated and steeped in culture. He found Freya’s compassion, kind heartedness, sense of humor, and selflessness to be more alluring than Elspeth’s push to be an aristocrat.
Nae well, I would ken.
Evan rose to light his fireplace as the room was getting frosty, then with the light from the dancing flames, went back to his seat. Again, he came to the same conclusion, the conversation would have to be tactfully blunt, but something had to happen before that. For him to request a sudden change in his intended would demand more questions than he had answers, and he knew that he could not say a word against Elspeth’s nasty character as they were blind to it.
But what if I am nay the only one who will see it?
A plan, one that might show the Laird Lobhdain, and his Lady that Elspeth might not be fit for the post of the Lady of his clan, came to him. Elspeth had managed to get away with many atrocities under her parents’ noses, but he was sure she would not be able to hide it, with people she did not know.
I’ll invite them to me home for a while, so they can see how she interacts with the others around her.
Perhaps, when they were out of their home, their eyes would be opened to see how Elspeth behaved with those who were underneath her.
His worries took him to bed and woke him up before dawn the next morning. Knowing that he had to put this plan into action, Evan steeled himself and got out of bed to prepare for the day, and after a bath, dressed in another formal kilt and headed out. He checked on his mother first, but found her asleep.
Suppose I’ll get that report later.
He left the castle and headed out into the misty morning without a bite of food or a drop of anything warm inside his stomach. Even if he did eat something, Evan felt that his stomach wouldn’t be able to digest it.
He smelled rain lingering above, but the skies were not growing gray, nor did he hear rumbles of thunder in the background, but he knew a storm was going to roll in. The unnatural silence only showed that the blizzard was building, and it might be a bad one.
Mercifully, the rains held back, and he made it to Lobhdain’s Castle without a drop of rain. After giving the front footman an order just to hold his mount ready for a quick departure, he was received in the front room by Lady Lobhdain, clad in a thick tartan dress.
