Page 66 of The Highlander’s Kilted Affair

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

She was laughing as her horse pounded across the plain. Benedict could not catch her, no matter how hard he tried. Pushing her horse on, the distance between them grew until she could barely hear his voice anymore.

But then, the clouds above grew dark and ominous, and Evelyn found that she was no longer on the plain. Instead, she rode through a dense forest, battling through trees with branches that cut her arms and face. But even as she pulled on the reins and called for her horse to stop, the beast continued on relentlessly.

Looking behind her, Benedict was nowhere to be seen. She cried out his name, but he did not answer. She was alone in a dark forest, with eerie sounds, and branches that seemed to grab at her body.

“Halt,” she screamed at the horse, but it continued on.

Up ahead, the forest opened out into a clearing, and without a word from Evelyn, the horse came to a sudden stop, throwing her headlong over the front of it. For a second, she was flying; weightless in the air, her arms and legs flailing. And then she hit the ground with a sickening thud, and everything went black.

Her head was thumping when Evelyn started to rouse. The pain was making her feel nauseous and she squeezed her eyes tight to alleviate the sensation. It did little to help. The throbbing continued. She wanted to press her hands against her head, but when she went to move, she realized that she couldn’t.

Blinking her eyes open, she gasped at the sight before her. She was no longer on a forest floor, and there was no horse in sight. Instead, she was sat in a small room, clearly no longer inside Gunn Castle. To her left, a small fire crackled. Immediately in front of her sat Laird Alisdair Keith with a smirk dancing on his lips. Apart from their chairs and a dresser, the rest of the room looked bare, as though the placed was not lived in at all.

He regarded her with slight amusement. “Ah, she is eventually awake,” he growled. “Perhaps I put a little too much laudanum in that whisky.”

Looking down at her predicament, Evelyn noted that her hands were tied to the arms of the chair she sat upon, and trying to move her feet, she realized they too, were tied to the legs.

Struggling to understand how she had managed to get there, a vague memory washed over her. She was sitting at the dressing table in her bedchamber getting ready for her wedding. One of the maids had given her something to drink. And then, two men emerged out of the hidden tunnel.

The maid. I need tae warn them. The maid is working with Laird Keith.

Clearly, however, she was going nowhere. Nor was she warning anyone.

Benedict had promised her that no harm could come to her inside the castle. Evidently, he did not know Laird Keith very well. Nor was he aware of the lengths the man would go to, to get what he wanted. And now, there she was. Trapped. A prisoner, powerless to stop whatever plans he had for her.

She had thought having to marry Audor had made her feel trapped, but that was nothing compared to this. Her father’s refusal to agree to an alliance with Clan Keith, even though they had been foes before, had caused nothing but trouble. Laird Keith had killed her mother to get back at her father. Now, the laird was clearly going to kill her too.

Perhaps she had wished this upon herself. Had she not said, just the other day, that being dead would be better than living without Benedict?

Maybe the gods heard me. But just the first part.

As terrified and helpless as Evelyn currently felt, she was determined not to show it. There had to be a way out of this, she just needed to figure out what that way was. She would not let this laird see her fear. She would not give him that satisfaction, and so, jutting her chin out defiantly, she glared right back at him.

He smirked back at her false display, and then said, “I have waited a long time for this.” Leaning forward, he tenderly caressed her cheek.

His touch made her skin crawl, and without thinking about it, Evelyn spat in his face. Immediately, he raised his hand and slapped her hard across the same cheek he had only seconds before caressed.

“Argh,” she cried, as the searing pain sparked across her skin. Her cheek now throbbed and felt like it was on fire. But even as the burning continued, Evelyn’s anger raged with it.

How typical of the man to strike a woman when she had no ability to defend herself. He had done the same to her mother.

Gone was the smirk, and now, the laird scowled at her as he wiped his face with a scarf. “Clearly, I have been given the wrong reports about ye, Lady Sinclair. I was told ye were a delicate angel. Ye are more like a wild animal.”

“At least I’m nae a murderer, or,” she nodded down at herself, “a kidnapper,” she spat. “And what a brave man ye are, striking a defenseless woman. I’ll take as many strikes ‘afore yer grubby hands touch me. In fact, I’d sooner die than have ye anywhere near me.”

He smiled then, and cocked his head to look at her. “Ye’re a feisty one, I see.”

A gasp caught in her throat at his words, for it was the same affectionate phrase Benedict had used to describe her on more than one occasion. But when he had said it, she had relished his words. They had been warm and playful. In fact, she relished all the words that left his beautiful lips. She just needed to figure out how she was going to get out of this mess so she could hear his voice again.

“But whether I touch ye or nae, isnae yer decision tae make,” the laird continued. “Nor will it ever be. I will touch me bride whenever I so desire.”

Evelyn’s eyes flew wide and her mouth fell open.

His bride?

So stunned was she, she had no retort. In fact, it felt as though her whole body was frozen in time. It took several seconds of the laird sneering at her expression for Evelyn to be able to even consider his words.