Page 41 of The Highlander’s Kilted Affair

“Killian, please,” Evelyn said, hurrying to his other side.

Benedict ignored Killian, and upon entering the cottage, called Dara over.

The older woman hurried towards them, her face a picture of concern. “What happened?”

“He’s been injured, Dara,” Benedict said. “Sword, we think.”

“Get him on the bed,” the old woman ordered.

Dara had been the clan’s healer for as long as Benedict could remember. When he was a child, he recalled her being a pretty woman, but the years had taken their toll, and now white hair sat on her shoulders, where red had been before, and the lines on her face and hands betrayed the many years she had served those around her.

“This is all me fault,” Evelyn repeated, hovering by the bedside as Dara cut into the tunic.

“Are ye the one who stabbed him?” Dara asked, lifting sharp blue eyes to look at Evelyn.

“Nay, but⁠—”

“Then it isnae yer fault,” Dara said plainly.

“He was injured because he was helping me,” Evelyn countered. Turning to Killian, she said, “I’m so sorry, Killian.”

“Lady Sinclair, will ye please stop fussing.” He smiled. “There’s nae need for all this guilt. I’ve had worse injuries sparring with Benedict.”

By now, Dara had cleaned the wound and was inspecting it closely. No one said a word, waiting for her to make her verdict. Eventually, she stood from bending, and turning to Killian, she said, “Ye’ll live. It looks worse than it is. It’s a gash, and it’ll need attention, but it isnae deep.”

Smiling up at Evelyn, Killian said, “Ye see. I’m fine.”

Evelyn’s frown betrayed that she was not entirely convinced, but Benedict did notice her shoulders seem to relax a little. It had not been her fault, everyone else in the room knew that.

The guards said the attack had come from nowhere, and he believed them. What he didn’t understand is what they wanted with Evelyn. Had they been taking her to kill her, as they had her mother? Or did Laird Keith have other plans? If so, what?

Perhaps he thinks kidnapping Evelyn will put a stop tae the alliance.

That could be it, but then, Laird Sinclair had another daughter to offer. It would be no great task to put Yvaine in Evelyn’s place. Nay. It doesnae make sense. There’s something else. I just cannae think what.

Darkness had already fallen when the three entered the castle. Immediately, they were met by a very concerned looking Laird Sinclair and Yvaine.

“Och, Evelyn,” Yvaine cried. “We were so worried about ye. Where have ye been?”

Benedict watched Evelyn struggle with her answer. Clearly, she did not want her father to know where she had been, or why. He was about to step in when he realized he did not know what story Evelyn had given them before she had left.

“I… I was just out for a ride,” Evelyn began. “Sure, I told ye, Yvaine, that I was going tae get some fresh air.”

“Fer five hours?” her father barked.

“It’s me fault,” Benedict interjected, now he knew the situation. “Killian and I were riding and came upon Lady Sinclair. As it was a fine day, we decided tae show her the clan land that she will soon rule over with me. I’m afraid time got away from us. Forgive me, me laird.”

He watched Yvaine’s eyes darting from Evelyn to himself, before looking to her father. Like everyone else, she was wondering if he would believe the story. For a moment, Laird Sinclair did not reply. He was either trying to make the story fit in his head, or struggling to find something to say.

Eventually, he spoke directly to Benedict. “I understand ye dinnae yet have children, me laird. I am certain, that time will come fer ye and me daughter. It is fer this reason that ye cannae understand a man’s fear when his child leaves a place o’ safety and doesnae return fer hours.”

“I apologize, me laird,” Benedict said sincerely. “In hindsight, I ought tae have thought about that. I assure ye, it willnae happen again.”

“Well, thank goodness ye are returned,” Yvaine said quickly, grabbing Evelyn by her arm and walking down the corridor. “Ye must be starved.”

Benedict, Killian and Donald were left standing in an awkward moment. Benedict would have preferred to speak to Evelyn, but he could do that later. Now, he ought to smooth things over with her father.

“Will ye nae join us in the library fer a drink, me laird. I have a great whisky I think ye might enjoy.”

Donald nodded. “Aye. I think after the last couple o’ hours, I could dae with one.”