Page 98 of The Highlander's Virgin Widow
Keira stared at him, her throat bobbing. It was a great relief for her to know that at least there were still a few people who believed her.
“But if it wasnae me, it would’ve been someone else,” Hudson continued.
With those words, he turned around and retreated the way they had come from. Keira watched him go, and once he had disappeared, tears welled up in her eyes once again. She slid down to the floor, suffocating, despair and sadness finally taking over her body.
He was dead.
Evander was dead, and somehow people believed she had done something to him. She couldn’t love him. Theirs was a marriage of convenience, after all. So why did his death hurt her way more than the fact that people thought she had caused it?
Evander’s eyes snapped open, and the bright sunlight immediately assaulted him. He squeezed his eyes shut, raising a hand to block out the harsh rays. A dull, lingering ache shot through his body as he slowly lowered his hand.
“Good Lord,” came a distinct voice. One Evander was not able to place until its owner came into view.
Lesley.
“Ye’re awake,” she stated, the surprise in her voice evident. As if she wasn’t expecting him to wake up ever again.
His eyes swept over the room he was in—the apothecary. He was directly facing the window, and rays of the bright afternoon sun shone directly on him. He raised his hand again, a low groan escaping his lips as his eyes adjusted to the harsh light.
“Apologies, M’Laird. I shall move ye now,” Lesley whispered.
Then, he felt movement. The platform on which he lay suddenly jolted, and soon he was wheeled into the shade. A distinct coolness enveloped his body as his hands dropped to his sides.
He opened his mouth to speak, but then realized the words wouldn’t come out. He strained further, only for a choked croak to escape his throat.
“Try nae to speak for now. ‘Tis better for ye, M’Laird.”
Evander tried speaking again, but the words wouldn’t come out. He was determined. He wouldn’t let the weakness stop him. He had to push further. So he did.
“What happened?” he asked, his voice hoarse.
“Yer heart failed, M’Laird,” Lesley answered calmly, as if it was not something to be alarmed about. “And we thought for a minute that ye were gone.”
Evander swallowed. Heart failure sounded like something he couldn’t get behind as a cause of death. He wanted to die in battle right in the middle of the field. He wanted to be remembered for his bravery and determination, not a heart attack.
The thought terrified him, but he tried hard to shove it down.
“But it’s nae failing anymore?”
“Nay.” Lesley nodded. “I have given ye the antidote. I must be honest with ye; I didnae think it would work.”
“Ah,” Evander muttered.
That would explain her surprise when he woke up.
He looked around the apothecary, wondering whereshewas and why she hadn’t come rushing in. His heart rate quickened. Was she in danger? Did she suffer heart failure too?
“Where is she?”
Lesley narrowed her eyes. She knew who he was talking about. Of course, she did.
“M’Laird, I would advise that ye take the time to rest because the antidote needs yer rest to?—”
“Where is Keira?” Evander asked again, his voice clearer than before and laced with something that seemed to say he didn’t want to repeat himself a third time.
As Lesley opened her mouth to speak, the door creaked open. They both turned their heads in that direction, Evander more expectant, hoping to see his wife step inside.
She did not.
