Page 79 of The Highlander's Virgin Widow
Lesley’s brow creased, the look on her face filled with mild intrigue and confusion. “Quite well, if I may say,” she responded.
“Ye ken she doesnae plan to attend the cèilidh, I assume.”
Lesley swallowed. “Aye.”
Evander nodded, absorbing that fact. That was as far as he could go in asking about Keira anyway.
Lesley waited a while for him to speak again, and when she realized he would not say anything anymore, she continued, “The chamomile tea will be ready in a few minutes. However,before then, I would also advise that ye dip a towel in water and place it on yer?—”
A knock suddenly sounded at the door, interrupting her. They both turned to the door and watched it creak open. Rory stepped inside, his eyes wide.
“What is it?” Evander asked.
“Me apologies, M’Laird, but ye ken how I told ye earlier that the Lairds are on their way? One of them arrived a bit too early.”
He stepped to the side, and a tall man walked in, his stance domineering. He looked around the room, and when his good eye landed on Evander, he broke into a smile.
“There ye are,LairdKincaid.”
Evander rose from the bed. “Arthur?”
“Ye ken another one?” Arthur drawled.
Evander moved closer to him, and they yanked each other into a giant hug. They slapped each other’s backs as they chuckled. Evander could see Lesley and Rory exchanging confused glances.
“I was informed that ye were in yer quarters, and the maids wanted me to wait for ye. I told them to let me in here,” Arthur grunted when they broke the hug.
“Very persuasively too, I might add,” Rory piped up. Evander almost immediately knew what that meant. “Ye wanted to destroy all the food, did ye nae?”
“Desperate times, me friend.” Arthur shrugged his shoulders.
“I see ye have changed yer eye patch,” Evander noted, gesturing at the leather piece on his friend’s right eye. “Ye do that once a year now?”
Arthur tugged at the strap of the eye patch, a smirk playing on his lips. “’Tis now a necessary accessory. I thought I might as well make it fashionable. What do ye think?”
“I think ye have way too much time on yer hands,” Evander snorted.
Arthur shook his head, his smirk still in place.
Then and only then did Evander notice there were still other people in the room.
“Pardon me manners. Arthur, this is Miss Lesley. She’s the castle’s healer. She also runs the apothecary,” he introduced, gesturing toward Lesley, who remained standing by the wall.
Arthur turned to Lesley. He grabbed her hand and lifted it to his lips, before leaning down and kissing it, the stubble on his chin briefly grazing her fingers. “At yer service, Miss Lesley.”
Evander saw it immediately, the red hue spread across her face, and he rolled his eyes.
Arthur was just that kind of man. He could make every woman feel like she was the only one in the room, without even trying. One would think the lasses would be more scared of him, but no. They fell for his charming act every time. How little did they know him. How little his friend actually let them see of him…
“The pleasure is mine…” Lesley trailed off and turned to Evander, the mild panic in her eyes quite evident.
“Arthur Ross,” he offered. “Laird MacDonnell.”
“Laird MacDonnell,” Lesley added.
Arthur released her hand and turned to Evander again. “Ye fancy a ride?”
Evander’s eyes darted from Lesley to Arthur. “I dinnae ken if I am in the best mood for?—”
