Page 45 of The Highlander's Virgin Widow
“He called the man to the courtyard and asked if what Claire had said was true. The man didnae deny it, and the Laird asked his men to give him a good beating.”
Keira swallowed, unsure if she had heard correctly. “What?”
“Aye. He stripped him right there in front of everyone and used his belt. Gave him twenty lashes and asked his men to give him the remaining thirty.”
Keira swallowed again. “He did that?”
“Aye. Then, he told the man that he was to never talk to Claire again. If he did, he shall be thrown out of the castleandthe village.”
They reached the garden, and Keira immediately noticed some flowers growing out of place—the same ones Evander had trampled on the day he had arrived to show her the letter of surrender.
Normally, a wave of hot anger would have surged through her, but after what she had just heard, it was hard to stay angry with him for so long. She hated the fact that every time she thought she had something to hold on to—something to properly discourage her from pursuing whatever was brewing between her and Evander—he managed to prove her wrong one way or another.
With each passing day, as much as she hated to admit it, he always managed to gain more control over her. But there was only so much she could take.
Channeling all her emotions into her work, she fixed the garden anyway, deciding to shelve any and every thought about Evander into a box in her mind.
She wouldn’t think of him. Not his perfect face or his body, which looked like it was sculpted by God himself. She would definitely not think about his virtuous act and how he didn’t hesitate to deal with one of his men once he was certain he had crossed the line.
No, she would not think about Evander Sloan at all.
The next day, she rose as early as possible and took a bath. The day seemed solid and ready for her, and as she sank into the water and let it lap at her skin, she couldn’t help but wonder if it was all too good to be true.
She didn’t question it, though. Instead, she walked out of her room and headed to the dining hall. As usual, there was no Evander, but she didn’t fret—at least not this time.
The day was way too bright for her to start doing any of that. Instead, she looked around after she finished her meal, and decided she had one place to visit today.
She walked out of the castle and past the courtyard, which was bathed in the golden rays of the rising sun. She found the home Evander had built for the goat.
“Thistle,” she whispered.
She almost chided herself for the mere mention of the name.
She pulled out some wild berries and leaves she had stuffed into her pocket and began to feed the goat. That was when she heard it.
The clip-clop of hooves and the rattle of wheels tore through the air like a nightmare. It was too early for a visitor, that she was certain of.
She rose to her feet and walked to the front of the castle. And sure enough, there was a carriage by the fence. A mild frown creased her brow. That was one of Evander’s carriages. Had he left the castle early in the morning to attend to something?
As if nature was telling her she was utterly wrong, a voice rang out from the other side. “Ye’re here.”
She turned in the direction of the voice—the entrance of the castle—and watched Evander walk out, a smile on his face as he approached the carriage.
She saw feet first, glistening like water in the early sun. A pair of sandals were strapped to them, and she swallowed as the owner of those feet climbed out of the carriage with the help of a footman. A woman.
She had the most luscious dark hair Keira had ever seen, curls hanging delicately around her face. She looked exquisite, and her skin shone like porcelain.
Keira’s eyes darted to Evander, who was now close to the carriage, and caught the smile on his face.
Nay. Nay. Could that be…?
A little boy—he must have alighted from the other side of the carriage—ran toward him, a wide smile on his face.
Keira watched in utter shock as the woman closed the gap between her and Evander and wrapped him in a hug. She watched the little boy hug Evander’s leg as well.
Could that truly be…?
She swallowed, her denial refusing to let her complete the thought.
