Page 16 of Highlander’s Forbidden Fruit

“Serves him right,” Evanna said decidedly and took a bite of her food.

“Hear, hear!” Lady Ashby raised her glass.

With that, dinner conversation came to a close. The remnants of the meal were cleared away soon, and the women retired to the parlor. Aleck wanted to follow, but again he was restricted from doing his duty.

Lord Ashby remained seated and waved for Aleck to do the same. Brandy and cigars were served. The brandy warmed Aleck and displaced the worrying notion of the protection of Evanna’s wellbeing that had exploded in his head like spores.

“I have taken the liberty of ordering some clothing for you.”

Lord Ashby’s statement took Aleck by surprise. He nearly choked on cigar smoke.

“That is very kind of ye, sir, but my clothes will serve me well till we hear from Laird MacLeod.”

“I’m sure they will, my boy, but I can see you squirm uncomfortably in those too short clothes, and they will not do for the ball tomorrow.”

There was no denying that this was true. The fabric was excellent and warm, but it was too tight around the arms and shoulders, and Aleck was constantly having to curtail his movements because his attire would not allow it.

“You do want to attend the ball, don’t you?” There was a mischievous glow in Lord Ashby’s eyes, and Aleck read it well.

He could not hope to fulfill his duty if he stayed at home while Evanna was at the ball. Damn the lass. Attending balls and fetes had not been in his plans when he’d come after her. He had no talent for dance; in fact, it terrified him. The dance of the sword was more comfortable than one with a woman in your arms.

“Indeed. Thank ye.”

Lord Ashby singled for another brandy. Aleck took it gratefully. If he was to accompany Evanna on all her excursions till the Laird’s letter arrived, he would need all the fortification he could get.

Chapter Eight

Evanna spent a sleepless night tossing and turning. After half an hour of this, she decided it was too warm and opened the windows to allow a breeze in. Sitting by the window, she gazed out into the fragrant night and wondered if her mother had done much the same when she’d been in London for her season.

It was truly tragic that Evanna had to travel away from home to feel closer to her mother than she had in her life. There was very little she remembered from that time. She had only been three—too young to remember much. There was an illness in the village, that much she recalled. Many people succumbed as did Lady Mary MacLeod.

One day she was tending to the sick, the next she was gone, taking her warmth and Evanna’s childhood with her.

No one spoke of her after. Evanna had tried asking questions, but they were met with stony silence from her father and admonishments to keep quiet from her governesses.

Evanna shut her eyes and forced herself to think back. There must be something she had retained of her mother, an image, a phrase, a snatch of song, or perfume. She searched and searched, flipping through her mind like a book, but there was nothing, just a black hole where her mother’s absence resided like a bruise that hurt when touched.

A part of her disliked her father’s stony silence; another part of her understood why he did not speak of his wife. The loss and grief he felt eclipsed the memories of Mary. Thinking of her was reliving the pain.

Wiping the tears from her eyes, she sent up a prayer for her mother and for herself. She needed her now more than ever, and though she had no memories of her, she had the knowledge that her mother had found love in London and, God willing, so would she.

* * *

The Fulton ball was renowned for being unique. There was dinner and dancing like any other ball, but each year, something unique was presented to the guests. Last year it had been fire-breathing acrobats. The whole town was abuzz with expectation for the revelries of the night.

“I’m a mess of nerves,” Evanna declared as their carriage waited to pull next to the entrance.

“Worry not, dear. You look lovely.” Lady Ashby placed a hand on Evanna’s knee.

Clara tucked her gloved hand in Evanna’s and gave a comforting squeeze. “I was nervous too last year before my first ball, but the people are really nice, and the men are very generous with their compliments.”

Evanna glanced at Aleck. He was sitting stone-faced next to Lady Ashby, ignoring the conversation. When she had descended the stairs earlier this evening, Aleck had stared at her open mouthed. She supposed she had painted a fetching picture with her hair up and adorned with flowers, and her throat gleaming with a pearl and diamond necklace.

His appearance had left her quite breathless as well. Dressed in black satin knee breeches, a deep blue frock coat, and cravat, he looked dashing. Evanna had been worried about her prospects before, but now she worried about Aleck catching the eye of some English miss.

Then she had noticed the lilacs.

Pinned to his lapel was a small boutonniere of lilacs, suspiciously similar to the sprig she had mislaid yesterday in the hall outside her bedroom.