Page 78 of The Highlander's Virgin Widow
“That isnae only yer connection to the castle though, is it? I ken yer braither is one of the men. Hudson…”
“Hudson Smith. He’s the lady’s man-at-arms,” Lesley supplied.
Evander noticed her wince as she pronounced the name, but it had come and gone so quickly that he couldn’t help but wonder if he had imagined it.
“Aye. Hudson Smith. I remember he was one of the men who were sent to appease me. His red hair was immediately noticeable. I remember he very strongly opposed surrendering the castle to me. He was fiercely protective of the lady, too. I’m nae surprised she made him her man-at-arms.”
“Well, he was the man-at-arms of the old Laird too. But we have all grown protective of our Lady over the years. She’s the only one who have ever treated us as human beings, if I must be honest with ye. So aye, it’s natural that me braither didnae agree with surrendering the castle.”
“Of course. I havenae seen him in a while.”
Lesley shifted her weight from one foot to another.
“He doesnae like me, does he?”
“I am afraid ye would have to ask him that yerself, M’Laird. Hudson and I dinnae talk about ye—or anything at all.”
Evander nodded again, folding his arms across his chest as the meek healer stood there, her eyes trained on the floor, the furniture—everything but him. He wondered if he should ask her what she meant, what happened between her and her brother, but almost immediately decided against it.
“I havenae been able to sleep for the past three days,” he said instead in a firm voice, breaking the silence. “I have tried everything, but sleep still evades me.”
“I see,” Lesley murmured. “Is there anything in particular keeping ye up at night?”
Evander scoffed. Where was he even supposed to start? “Uh, nae particularly.”
Lesley eyed him carefully. “Pardon me, M’Laird, if I didnae live in the castle, I would most definitely have believed that. But I do live in the castle, so I most certainly dinnae believe ye.”
Evander swallowed, feeling his heart skip a beat. If he’d been that obvious to everyone about Keira, then the lack of sleep might be the least of his problems. He needed to find an excuse. Say something, anything. Maybe a lie to cover up that fact?
He opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again, unable to muster whatever words he needed to say to her.
Lesley sighed and moved a little closer. “The cèilidh,” she began.
Evander narrowed his eyes at her.
“I ken how stressful it must be, preparing for the cèilidh. That must be the cause of yer lack of sleep.”
Yes. He would go with that.
He nodded slowly. “Aye. The cèilidh. ‘Tis the reason.”
There was no reason to go deeper than the surface.
Lesley moved closer again. “Are ye suffering from headaches?”
“Aye.”
“’Tis from the lack of sleep. I shall prepare some chamomile tea and bring it over to ye. For now, I would advise that ye relax and take some rest,” she continued.
Evander nodded and watched her closely as she spoke, her words well articulated and clear.
It was clear from her stance that she was the perfect friend for Keira. They were both eloquent and had the same drive. He could tell even from the way she spoke that she was fiercely protective of her friend and incredibly devoted to her as well.
“Have ye spoken to Keira in the past few days?”
Lesley cocked her head. “Aye. She came to the apothecary yesterday.”
“How did she seem?”
