Page 68 of The Highlander's Virgin Widow
“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, ifIdo 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 becauseof courseshe 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 warmyerbed 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.
