Page 77 of The Highlander's Virgin Widow
The sun wasn’t fully out, but the morning light had spread across the sky, and he could see birds flying over the castle through his window.
He grunted and sat up. He barely had an hour of sleep because he couldn’t stop thinking about her. The same thing had happened the previous day and the day before that.
He swung the covers off his body and lowered his feet onto the cold, hard floor. He curled his toes against the floor, feeling a wave of dizziness hit him in the back of his head.
It was false hope, and he knew it because the moment he tried to lay his head back and catch some sleep, thoughts of Keira would creep up on him and he wouldn’t be able to sleep anymore, no matter how hard he tried. He was quite used to that already.
He rose and staggered toward the bathing chamber, the cold morning air slashing across his bare skin like a blade across a loaf of bread, but he didn’t care. The wind could torture his bare body for all he cared—nothing mattered anymore.
He sank into the filled tub and leaned his head against the edge, closing his eyes and letting the cool water do almost all the work for his frayed nerves.
There were now more people in the castle than usual, most of whom were from his clan. He knew the influx of people did not exactly help matters with Keira, but there was little to nothing he could do about it.
A knock sounded at the door.
Because, why not?
“’Tis me, M’Laird,” Rory called.
Evander sighed and heard the door click and creak open. Rory entered, his footsteps growing louder as he approached the bathing chamber.
“I just received word. The Lairds said they were on their way. I have asked the maids to prepare some of the rooms for them.”
“Aye. That is well noted,” Evander grunted, his voice wavering slightly from the cold water.
Rory shuffled his feet and rested his hand on the hilt of his sword as if there was something more he wanted to say. But whatever it was, Evander didn’t plan to encourage him to say it. Whenever he was ready, he would.
“Is that all, Rory?”
“Aye,” Rory responded and spun on his heel.
“Wait!” Evander called, reaching out his hand in a bid to stop Rory, who was already reaching for the door. His man-at-arms halted and turned back to him. “Inform the healer that I would love to see her.”
“Aye,” Rory muttered as he made his way out of the room, leaving Evander to himself and his racing thoughts once again.
Should he not have torn the tapestries? But that was the only way she would have listened to him, and the last thing he needed was those things hung up while the others arrived.
No. No, he was right to do it. The last he should doubt wasthatdecision. The tapestries had been up long enough.
He stepped out of the bath and walked into his room. A wave of thick cold struck his body as he put on his clothes, staring at himself in the mirror as he buttoned up his shirt. Another knock sounded at the door, and he wasted no time in asking whoever it was to come in.
Lesley entered, her piercing blue eyes practically blasting him with judgment before she moved closer to him.
“M’Laird,” she greeted, bobbing the briefest of curtsies before closing the door behind her. He walked to the edge of the bed and sat down gently.
“Ye asked for me?” She asked in a voice that was almost indifferent.
Evander laughed. “I dinnae think we had a one-on-one talk since I arrived at the castle.”
“I am certain there is a reason for that.”
Evander nodded, and Lesley swallowed, almost like she realized she might have snapped a bit too hard at him.
“I apologize, M’Laird. I didnae mean?—”
“I ken what ye meant. I also ken how devoted ye are to her.”
“She is me best friend.”
