Page 4 of The Highlander's Virgin Widow
Evander swallowed. “We’re going to war.”
Keira sat in the same spot in the Great Hall since her husband had died on their wedding night months ago. The same councilmen who had surrounded her that day surrounded her now. Except this time, the veil of unfamiliarity had been lifted. She knew every one of them by name. It was what she had to do since she became the Lady of Blythe Castle.
Another thing that was different was the way they now looked at her. Months ago, they had regarded her with pity and sympathy. Now, they had urgency in their eyes. And impatience.
“We cannae keep waiting for longer, M’Lady. Time is nae on our side,” George, one of the councilmen, urged.
“I understand that,” Keira allowed, rubbing her forehead furtively.
“I dinnae think ye understand,” George continued. “I received reports just this morning that ten of our men were murdered at the border. Laird Kincaid is a dangerous man, and the longer we wait, the bigger the chance we give him to swoop in and kill us all.”
“He’s nae wrong, M’Lady,” Lucas, another councilman, piped up, his voice soft yet firm. “This would make it thirty men who have died at the hands of Laird Kincaid this week. We cannae afford to lose more men.”
Keira exhaled. “Who is this Laird Kincaid, anyway? What did we ever do to him?”
“Ye didnae need to do anything, M’Lady,” David, another councilman, spoke up. He sounded more nervous than the other two. “We dinnae have a laird—that’s what we did.”
Keira swallowed.
Not this again.
“Laird Kincaid is probably of the opinion that since this castle has nay laird, conquering it will be easy for him,” David continued.
“It’s been months since we asked ye to remarry, M’Lady. And since ye have refused to listen to us, we have decided to take matters into our own hands,” George revealed.
Keira swallowed. “What are ye talking about?”
“We have decided to appease the Laird,” George stated.
“Perhaps if we offer him the castle, he will spare the rest of our men,” Lucas clarified.
“Nay, nay. Ye have to listen to me. I just need more time. A few weeks at most, and I’ll remarry. I promise ye.”
“We dinnae have a few weeks. We’ll all be dead by then,” Lucas argued.
“If we do offer him the castle,” George added, “he’ll want to take a wife. And it willnae be a widow, I am certain. So, of course, ye have to return to yer clan.”
A tense silence fell over the room.
Keira’s throat bobbed as she swallowed hard. The silence thickened, and then, unable to take it anymore, she pushed her chair back and walked away from the table.
“M’Lady—”
“A week. That’s all I’m asking for,” she insisted, not bothering to turn around. “Ye’re nae cruel enough to send a lady packing immediately, are ye?”
She held her breath and waited for a response.
When none came, she stopped by the door and turned to them. “Let us send word to Laird Kincaid and ask for a truce. Invite him to the castle, and I am certain we can come to a compromise.”
“A compromise might nae be enough, M’Lady.”
“We cannae ken that if we dinnae try, can we?”
She turned back around and resumed walking, but she held her breath, waiting for a response. When none came, she stepped out of the Great Hall, letting out a deep sigh.
She couldn’t go back to her clan. That was the last thing she wanted to do. She had been ordered to never step foot there again, and she planned to honor that promise.
Stella, her maid, accosted her by the door, falling into step beside her immediately.
