Page 80 of The Highlander's Virgin Widow
“Dinnae give me that. I havenae seen ye in a long time. We are going out for a ride. I am certain whatever it is ye’re doing can wait.”
Evander paused for a moment, as if thinking it through over and over. When he found no way to escape, with Arthur’s piercing eye still boring into him, he agreed.
“Good. We can talk about everything on our way back. ‘Tis why I came early. So I can have ye to meself for a while before the others arrive.”
Evander nodded and turned to Lesley.
“I shall come see ye when ye return, M’Laird.”
Evander nodded, a grateful smile on his face.
Just like she had entered, Lesley turned around and left, leaving a hesitant Evander to a rather energetic Arthur.
“Ye reckon I can change me eye patch before we leave?” Arthur asked, turning to him.
Evander only gave a scoff in response.
Keira walked into her room, her hands wet after washing them in the watering hole. She had been in her garden for the past few hours, tending to her roses and finally rooting out the very last of the weeds that had terrorized her flowers. She had also, despite her instinct telling her otherwise, fed Thistle.
Evander was taking longer than usual to come out of his room, and she wouldn’t let him take it out on the poor baby goat.
She had seen a man with an eye patch ride into the castle while feeding Thistle. The man didn’t see her, and she didn’t call his attention, but she knew he must have come for the cèilidh.
Normally, she would ignore people like that, but something about the man stood out—the way he rode in with confidence, the way his eyes seemed to search the courtyard. It all seemed so?—
Her door suddenly swung open, and Lesley burst inside, her eyes wide with excitement and her hands curled around a big box she held tight to her chest.
Keira met her eyes, noticing how she tried to catch her breath.
“Ye have to go to the cèilidh.”
“What?”
“Ye must go. I dinnae want to hear anything about ye wanting to stay out of the way. Yemustgo. And I ken deep down that ye want to as well.”
Keira cocked her head. “What is this about, Lesley?”
“The Laird is miserable, Keira. I dinnae ken what ye did, but I am certain it is because of ye. He hasnae been able to sleep for the past three days. He believes it’s the stress of preparing for the cèilidh, but ye also have a part in it. I ken what I have said about him in the past, but having talked to him, he isnae as evil as I thought. He is miserable, Keira, and I am certain if ye’re nae at the cèilidh, ye will only be adding to his misery.”
Keira swallowed.
“And if nae for the Laird, ye can go for the other men. I’ve seen some of them, and I dinnae think ye want to miss out on this. Yer future husband may be in the Great Hall tomorrow.”
Keira shook her head. “Even if I wanted to go, I dinnae have anything to wear. I cannae wear?—”
“I have that taken care of already,” Lesley spoke over her, then moved closer to her.
Keira’s eyes remained fixed on the box her friend held close to her chest.
“I wanted to give this to ye on yer wedding night all those months ago. But then what happened happened, and I couldnae think of a proper time to bring it up. I wanted ye to wear it for yer first dance with Laird Blythe as husband and wife.”
Lesley handed the box to Keira, who took it and placed it gently on her bed. She lifted the lid and felt her breath catch in herthroat as she stared inside the box. Her lips curled into a smile, and she turned to her friend.
“There it is,” Lesley breathed, returning her smile.
“I suppose I am going to the cèilidh, after all,” Keira announced, mild excitement and anticipation evident in her voice, even though she tried to suppress them.
She was going to the cèilidh.
