Page 82 of Highlander’s Forbidden Fruit

Lord Winchester stared at the body of his deceased son. His fingers twitched, but they would not touch the body. Eyes wide and staring, he was clenching his teeth so hard the veins on his neck stood out. “That’s my boy,” he finally said, his voice choked with emotion. “That’s my son, John.”

He lifted a trembling hand and finally touched John’s cold brow. His staring, intense eyes closed as if he were finally accepting that his son was no more in the land of the living. Nothing else he had done or said affected Evanna as brutally as those closed eyes of acceptance and defeat.

Lord Winchester leaned heavily against the pew, his strength deserting him. Ashton stepped forward and supported his father. Instructing some of his men, he transferred Lord Winchester’s care to them.

“Take him inside and place him next to the fire. I will come along shortly.” He then turned to Lord MacLeod. “My father is unwell. The news has affected him deeply.”

“Aye, I dinnae blame him. I’d be much the same if anything happened to Evanna.” Laird MacLeod gave Evanna a look mixed with meaning, love, and disappointment. “Parents want nothing but the happiness and safety of their children.”

“You have been very kind and generous to my brother and our family. May I request one more thing?”

“Of course. Anything.”

“I’d like a few minutes alone with my brother.”

Lord MacLeod assented and ushered everyone else out. Evanna was both relieved and reluctant to leave. Relieved because the grief was oppressive on her already frail heart; reluctant because she didn’t want to leave Ashton alone, yet she didn’t want to be alone in the same room with him.

At the church doors she turned to see Ashton holding John’s lifeless hand, his cheeks bathed in silent tears. He kissed John’s forehead and caressed his cheek. “Rest now, big brother,” he murmured. “I will keep my promise.”

Evanna averted her gaze from that private moment. She had always thought there was no love lost between the Winchester brothers. They were known as rivals more than for their brotherly affection. But appearances were deceiving. Ashton was dignified in his grief, but it was grief, nonetheless.

Evanna and the rest hurried inside. The snow was falling fast. While the rest of the retinue, the footmen and valets, had taken to the kitchen for their tea, Lord Winchester had been installed in the sitting room in front of a hearty fire. His boots had been removed and his feet placed on a stool. Mrs. Lane was serving him tea, which he took but not consciously. His eyes had a faraway look in them. He might be here in body, but his mind was still inside the church with his son.

“I believe stronger stuff is required for a time like this,” Lord MacLeod grunted and produced a decanter of whisky. He poured a generous measure in Lord Winchester’s cup of tea. “Go on then, take a sip. It’ll warm ye up.”

Lord Winchester blinked up at Laird MacLeod as if he was seeing him for the first time but did as he was asked. The change was immediate. He grimaced and put his cup down. “That’s strong,” he said.

“Eh?” Laird MacLeod sniffed the whiskey. “It’s nae that strong.”

“If you say so,” Lord Winchester said, but did not touch his cup again.

Evanna set about serving him sandwiches and cakes. He seemed more inclined towards conversing with Evanna than Laird MacLeod. “Sit by me a moment, Miss MacLeod.”

“Please, call me Evanna.” Aleck pulled up a chair beside Lord Winchester and Evanna sat down.

He smiled and patted her hand. “You’re lovelier than John described.”

“Thank ye.”

“John told me how you were the perfect English rose on foreign soil. I want to plant her back on England’s green hills, he said to me. Why, I can see it myself. You’d fit right in at Winchelsea.”

Evanna smiled politely. She had no response to his statements. What was she supposed to say? Her guilt grew tenfold hearing John’s compliments for her. To find inspiration for a change of conversation she looked about the room. Aleck was chewing the inside of his lip furiously, and Laird MacLeod had the same skeptical look on his face.

“You should come with us when we leave. I’m sure John would have wanted that. I know that Lady Winchester wishes for it. You don’t want to disappoint her, do you?”

Laird MacLeod’s skepticism turned to a downright frown of annoyance. Evanna licked her lips and played with her lace handkerchief, her mind completely blank. What was she supposed to say? Why were no words coming to her?

“I hate to see lovely women in black. It distresses me. But I see how much you loved my John that you’re mourning him even though you were only engaged for a brief period.”

“I wouldn’t describe it as a period.” Ashton joined them by the fire, brushing snow out of his hair. “A period denotes a few months, even a fortnight or two. Three days would be best called a moment.”

Laird MacLeod coughed loudly, covering his mouth with his hands. Evanna couldn’t be certain, but she was sure she’d seen a smile on his face before he hid his mouth.

“However brief the engagement, there’s no denying the courtship.” Lord Winchester sniffed, clearly vexed. “The love these two had for each other was undeniable. I was very keen on the union myself. I believe there can be no better woman in the land than Evanna to be the next Lady Winchester.”

Evanna took a sip of her tea. Ashton was staring at her. The heat from the fire was oppressive. She flushed hot and cold under his stare.

“God has other plans for Evanna,” Laird MacLeod took up the other end of the conversation. “John was a fine man.”