Page 33 of The Highlander’s Kilted Affair

At first, Evelyn was clearly appalled as well as mortified, but noticing that no one around her seemed to care, least of all Benedict, she began laughing too.

A moment later, James arrived with two more tankards.

“Och, lord,” she moaned.

“Again?” Benedict said, though he had no intention of making her do it again.

“Nay!” she exclaimed.

He laughed at her then and shook his head. “All right. I’ll let ye drink this one a little slower. Ye might be a fine rider, Lady Sinclair, but ye cannae beat me at downing yer ale.”

When that tankard was finished, James was swift in bringing another, but Evelyn sat back in her chair, and waved her hands towards it. “I dinnae think I can drink another one right away.”

“I thought ye wanted tae get drunk?”

“And I dae.” She pressed a hand against her forehead. “I’m already a little tipsy.”

“Then dance with me,” Benedict said, standing from his chair and holding his hand out.

Evelyn grinned, and after a second’s hesitation, she grabbed his hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet. There were already many people dancing, body’s swirling and swaying to the fast beat of the bodhrán, the fiddle, and the tin whistle. Benedict pulled her in close, and the two danced about the wooden floor, feeling the vibration of everyone’s movement traveling through his feet.

At seeing their laird dancing with his betrothed, the floor cleared, and the villagers formed a circle around them, clapping and whooping in time with the music. Evelyn laughed heartily, throwing her head back, clearly losing herself in the music and the atmosphere.

Benedict could only watch her in delight. It was the most relaxed he had ever seen her. She was letting go and really living. There was a moment when everything seemed to slow, and he could barely hear the music or the people around them. He could only gaze at her, at her beauty, her full heart, her sparkling eyes, and her soft laughter. This moment was something he would hold with him forever. A cherished memory of their time together. A time they would never have again.

Breathlessly, they returned to the table, where, to his surprise, Evelyn downed her tankard in a far shorter time than earlier. He could only stare at her in amazement, and when she caught his expression, she slammed the tankard on the table and began laughing again.

“I was thirsty,” she giggled.

“Aye, I can see that,” he countered with a smirk, which only set her off to a new fit of giggles.

For a while, they watched the villagers dance, but when Benedict looked back at her, he noticed Evelyn playing with her necklace. His pendant was still there, beside the one her mother had given her.

When she caught him looking at the necklace, she shrugged apologetically. “I cannae help it.”

Benedict shook his head. “Nae one has said nae tae, Evelyn.

“I ken. I suppose I am afraid that one day, I’ll forget me maither altogether. It terrifies me that I’ll forget her scent, or her beautiful blue eyes, or the softness of her hair. What if I forget what she even sounded like?”

“Ye willnae. I promise ye that. Me parents have been gone seven years now, and I havenae and willnae forget them.”

“Her death changed everything,” she replied. “Ye see me faither as he is now; cold, distant, mostly angry with the world and all those in it. But he wasnae always like that. He used tae laugh, and smile, and have fun.”

“I cannae imagine what it feels like tae lose yer wife,” Benedict said.

A sweeping and strange feeling washed over him, for in that second, he realized that perhaps, in the not-so-distant future, he may well experience a pain that would be akin.

“Aye. Me faither adored me maither. She was his everything. He loved me and Yvaine too, o’ course, but he worshipped me maither.” She took a long draw on her ale, and then sighed. “Laird Keith did more harm that day than he could ever imagine. Or,” she shrugged, “perhaps he kent what murdering me maither would dae tae me faither. I just want the feud tae end. He’s already taken so much from us.”

“That is why were are aligning the clans,” Benedict said. “I promise ye, Evelyn. Once ye have Clan Gunn tae back yer clan, Laird Keith willnae bother ye any longer.”

He wasn’t entirely certain that his words were true, but he imagined that would be the result. Clan Gunn’s reputation was known far and wide. Only a fool would come up against them. But it would take Laird Keith to be an idiot if he tried to battle against Clan Gunn and Clan Sinclair.

They drank one more tankard of ale, and while Benedict was not affected at all, it was evident that they had accomplished what they went there to do, for Evelyn was indeed, merrily inebriated.

The journey outside was funny, though he tried not to laugh as she swayed from side to side, struggling to put one foot in front of the other.

“This is harder than it looks,” she slurred. “In fact, I can hardly feel my face.” She then started pinching her cheek to make her point. “Look. I can feel naething at all. Is that normal?”