Page 23 of The Highlander’s Kilted Affair

“What are ye smiling about?”

She shrugged lightly. “I just think ye have a good heart. That’s all.”

He felt a little embarrassed at those words, having not heard them from any other before. So much so, he did not know how to respond, and instead, changed the subject.

“Well, James’ wife has outdone herself, for this looks delicious.”

Evelyn looked at her food and frowned. “What is it?”

Benedict could hardly believe his ears and looked at her with wide eyes. “Ye have never had Scotch Pie before?”

She shook her head. “I cannae say that I have.”

“Lord, woman, ye havenae lived. Ye must try it. It is quite delicious.”

But Evelyn hesitated, and as amused as he was at her curious expression, he lifted his fork, dug into his own pie, and then offered it to her. “Here. Try mine.”

She looked a little wary as he held the fork out to her, but eventually, she opened her mouth. His gut clenched as she did so, and gazing at those soft sweet lips he remembered tasting, he moved his fork slowly towards her.

It felt like time had stopped. Like they were the only two people in the whole world. And as her lips wrapped around the fork, Benedict had to stop himself from physically groaning.

He knew she felt something too, for her eyes were wide, and never left his for a second. Her cheeks reddened, but still, she did not look away from him. As though in slow motion, he pulled the fork back, watching it catch the soft skin of her lips. The desire grew at every second, and now, his body was reacting in a place far lower than his gut.

“It’s delicious,” she breathed. “Thank ye.”

“Aye, well,” Benedict replied, clearing his throat, and breaking the tension. “Ye may eat yer own, fer I am too hungry tae give ye anymore o’ mine.”

He grinned at her, and she giggled at his teasing. This was now the second time he had resorted to humor to break the spell she seemed to put him under. It was becoming a bit of a habit.

“I will take it as my first gift,” she said, tucking into her own meal.

“What dae ye mean, yer first gift?” Benedict frowned.

“Well, I have never been given a gift ‘afore. Not from anyone outside o’ me family, at least,” she said with a shrug.

While he struggled to believe her, he also knew she was not lying. He had seen her in a lie, and her expression was not the same.

“How is that possible?” he asked, digging his fork back into his pie.

“I dinnae ken, I suppose… Oh,” she said, halting her sentence suddenly.

Benedict looked up to see Evelyn peering out of the window of the tavern.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, watching her brow work into a frown.

“There are men out there wearing Clan Keith colors.” Bringing her eyes back to him, she continued. “Why would any o’ the Keith Clan be here in the village?”

It was now Benedict’s turn to frown. “They wouldnae,” he said, standing hurriedly from the table. Moving to look through the window, he searched the street for the men she spoke of, but they were no longer there.

“They’re away,” he said.

“Well, they were definitely there. I would ken those colors anywhere,” she huffed knowingly.

Of course, she would. Their clan had been battling Clan Keith for over a year. And besides, it was that same clan who had murdered her mother.

“Are ye all right?” he said, placing a hand on her arm as he sat down again.

“I’m fine.”