Page 81 of The Highlander's Virgin Widow
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The morning of the cèilidh, Evander awoke with a mild throb in the back of his head. His headache had abated yesterday after Lesley gave him the chamomile tea, and his horse ride with Arthur, no matter how much he wanted to deny it, helped a lot.
He looked out the window at the bright blue sky. The sun must have been out for quite a while now, which meant he must’ve been sleeping for quite longer than necessary.
He had his bath and stepped out of his room, a short yawn escaping his lips as he made his way to the entrance of the castle. Some maids watched him intently as he walked, and other members of his clan who had come to visit from nearby or afar stopped to greet him and he responded.
He stopped by the dining hall, watching the spread of food on the table, untouched.
“Mornin’, M’Laird,” one of the maids greeted. Evander nodded at her in return. “The food is for ye and the other Lairds. I have asked them to come eat, but they have refused. They said they wouldnae eat unless ye’re here with them.”
Evander shuffled his feet and stared at the spread again, then back at the maid. “Aye. I need to feed the goat. Tell them to come down and that I’ll join them shortly.”
“Aye, M’Laird.” The maid nodded, curtsying.
Evander made his way out of the castle, the cold morning air kissing his face and sending a wave of relief through him. He walked across the courtyard, ignoring the children all playing around the training era, chasing each other with what he could imagine to be training sticks.
It did not matter. After this night, everything would change. He threw some leaves and stems at the goat and watched it nibble at them. Then, like the smell had given it approval, it proceeded to eat them one after the other.
For the past hour, he had managed not to think about Keira. However, she was the only thing that overtook his thoughts once he laid eyes on Thistle.
“Ye reckon she was serious about nae attending the cèilidh?” he whispered, eyeing the goat as it continued to chew on his food without even looking up. He sucked on his teeth. “Aye, it doesnae matter anyway. Most of me friends are here.”
He rose after a while and headed back to the dining hall, where his friends were sitting around the table, waiting for him.
“Ah. See who has finally decided to join us,” Gerald boomed, a smirk on his face as he watched Evander walk into the dining hall and head toward an empty chair.
“About time,” Marcus said, slowly lowering the cup of water he’d been holding to the table.
Evander’s eyes skimmed over the others, who watched him intently as well, smiles on their faces.
“Where did ye go again?” Gerald asked, brushing a stray strand of hair from his face.
Evander noticed almost immediately that his friend’s long hair was tied at the back.
“Aye. I thought we’d meet ye here,” Marcus piped up, his piercing blue eyes boring into him.
“Let him be, gentlemen. He probably needed time to himself,” Arthur interjected.
Evander pulled out the empty chair next to him and eased himself into it.
“’Tis alright, ye didnae miss anything interesting,” Arthur whispered to him.
Evander smirked as a maid moved closer and piled food on the plate before him.
“So, ‘tis a big day.” Hector, who was sitting across from him, reclined into his seat. “Are ye ready to face it?”
“’Tis just a cèilidh, Hector. I have hosted hundreds of them,” Evander responded, in full disbelief at how the lie had come so easily to him.
It wasn’t just a cèilidh. He knew how terribly distraught he would be if Keira refused to show up.
“Is she coming? Lady Blythe?” Arthur asked, his voice low.
Evander turned to him, his eyes narrowed.
“Ye have tried so hard nae to talk about her. I figured it out during our ride yesterday.”
Evander shifted in his seat, not answering.
