Page 62 of The Highlander’s Kilted Affair

Evelyn nodded, and moving towards the small table fitted with a mirror, did as she asked. Her mind was still on Benedict rushing from the room, and she could not help but smile as she recalled their earlier antics. It still felt a little surreal that, in less than a few hours, she would be his wife. Things had happened so fast, and yet, she could not be more grateful in how they had turned out.

The maid behind her produced a small glass bottle and handed it to Evelyn. Smiling at her through the mirror, she said, “I have a tonic fer ye, me lady.”

“What is it fer?” Evelyn asked.

The maid looked about her, checking to make sure no one else was listening, and then lowered her voice. “It’s tae help with the nerves, me lady.” She smiled. “It has a little whisky in it too.”

Admittedly, Evelyn didn’t feel very nervous, but then, the day had only begun. Perhaps later, when she arrived at the chapel, those nerves might just kick in. Evelyn took the bottle and placed it in the pocket of her housecoat.

“Nae, me lady. Ye will have tae take it now. There will be nowhere fer ye tae carry it later,” the lass urged.

“Och, o’ course,” Evelyn replied, forgetting she was about to be donned in her wedding gown. How anyone who was getting married could forget such a thing, she didn’t know. Perhaps she was nervous after all. Uncorking the lid, she tipped the tonic down her throat and swallowed it. The sour after taste made Evelyn screw up her face.

“It’s good stuff, me lady.” The maid grinned.

Some of the maids had already left, but a few moments later, the same maid started calling to the others. “Go now, and ready Lady Sinclair’s bath. We still have much tae dae.”

The other maids nodded and, muttering to each other, gathered items of clothing and hurriedly left the room.

Evelyn was about to ask if the maid had seen Yvaine yet, when she suddenly began feeling rather woozy.

“Och, me head,” she said, lifting her hand to her forehead.

“Are ye well, me lady?” the maid said, looking at her intently through the mirror.

But as Evelyn looked back, she noticed a strange expression on the woman’s face. It was not quite concern, but more like she was watching to see what was about to happen.

She then left from brushing Evelyn’s hair and walked directly to the dresser that covered the hidden door. Huffing and puffing, she began pushing it the same way Benedict had done not half an hour earlier.

“What on earth are ye doing?” Evelyn slurred. Her voice sounded strange, and following the earlier wooziness, she now began to feel faint.

The maid ignored her, continuing to shift the dresser with great difficulty. Once it was finally out of the way, she then opened the door. Immediately, two men squeezed through the tiny space.

“What the devil is going on?” Evelyn cried, trying hard to speak clearly, but failing miserably.

A second later, they were looming toward her, only, they too, now looked blurry.

“Wait,” she gasped, feeling suddenly ill. But just as she was about to call out again, her eyelids dropped, and her world went black.