Page 61 of Highlander’s Forbidden Fruit

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The next day dawned gray. A heavy mist encased Glenlivet as if overnight the fae had come from the Otherworld to lay claim to its borders as their own. John ate a robust breakfast. Evanna couldn’t bring herself to eat.

“I propose we wed as soon as the cold weather breaks. Does February suit?”

“Isnae that too soon?” Evanna asked, dazed.

“The Laird wanted you wed as soon as possible,” John said. “I personally see no harm in waiting, but I aim to fulfill the Laird’s wishes, don’t you?”

Evanna sipped her tea without comment. A lump had made home in her throat and refused to be swallowed down or spat out. All her cries, her protests, her opinions were shoved underneath that lump, trying to push it out of the way, but the lump continued to grow bigger until she couldn’t breathe.

“Aye, February is fine.”

“Excellent!” John said, putting down his knife and fork. “Then I shall take my leave of you this afternoon.”

“Oh?” Evanna made a show of curiosity. “Where are ye headed?”

“Back to England to make arrangements.”

That got Evanna’s attention. “Arrangements? Will ye nae be staying for Christmas?”

John winced. “No,” he emphasized the word, indirectly pointing out its ‘correct’ pronunciation. “I will be spending Christmas with my family. We haven’t spent one together in five years. It’s the least I can do. And I shall need to prepare for the wedding, so I really must head out today if I plan to be home by Christmas Eve.”

“Da was looking forward to having you for Christmas.”

“All of my Christmases will be in Glenlivet once we are married. I really must go. I will miss you dearly. But I want you to dedicate yourself to taking care of the Laird. He must not indulge in another feast but rest.”

“But-”

“Come now, Evanna, you must stop this behavior this instant. I will not have you argue back once we are wed. I don’t need to explain myself to you. Be grateful I am a modern man and share my plans with you. Some men don’t even do that.”

Evanna stared at him open mouthed. She placed her cup on its saucer and got up with quiet dignity. “I shall inform the Laird of yer departure. He will want to see ye before ye go.”

John clicked his tongue against his teeth, got up as well, and held her hand before she could leave.

“Evanna, I’m sorry I did not mean to be so harsh. I just don’t like being stopped from doing something once I’ve decided to do it. It just makes things unnecessarily complicated. And I don’t like complicated lives. I’m sorry,” he smiled. “Do ye forgive me?” he tried a Scottish brogue, his grin endearing.

Evanna was not in the mood to laugh, but she indulged him. He was making an effort. She couldn’t fault that.

“I’ll see if he will receive you now.”

She walked out on steady feet even though her shoulders were burdened by the weight of a lifetime with someone as obnoxious as John. Ashton had been right on the money - John was not the right man for her. Why had she agreed to this match? What had possessed her to do something so stupid?

Climbing the stairs, she thought on every stupid thing she had done, either fueled by immaturity or a childish belief in fairy tales where everything is right with the world in the end. Either her story had no happy ending, or it hadn’t reached its end yet. She wasn’t sure which, and at this point she was too afraid to ask.

At the door to her father’s chambers, she paused. She heard muted voices and wondered if it was polite of her to enter. Knocking on the door she asked for permission and was granted audience.

Laird MacLeod was sitting up in bed, his complexion still sickly but his eyes were brighter and more alert than they had been last night. Just the sight of him sitting up gladdened her heart.

“Evanna!” he said, waving her closer, his voice not quite what it used to be but no longer the agonized whisper it had been last night. “Come and help me convince Aleck to stay.”

Evanna hadn’t noticed Aleck. He was leaning beside the bed, his head bowed. He did not look up to greet her. More than anything, Evanna wanted to wrap her hands around his shoulders and embrace him, but the distance between them was greater than it had been before.

“Is Aleck going somewhere?” she asked, taking a seat on her father’s bed.

“Aye,” Laird MacLeod nodded. “Wants to make his fortune in the East India Company. Wants to be a Nawab.”

“Is nae like that. I feel I’ll be more useful there,” Aleck protested.