Page 72 of The Highlander’s Kilted Affair

EPILOGUE

One week later…

It had been an epic battle that day, and just as Audor had instructed, there were no prisoners. His men had done him proud, for every single one of Laird Keith’s men were slaughtered. While they had not seen many on their approach, Laird Keith had obviously sent for reinforcements, and more of his men had arrived after Audor, Donald and Benedict had entered the house to rescue Evelyn. That had been the loud sound of battle they had heard.

There were many killed, and it took several days to bury them. Those who had run and tried to escape had been hunted down and killed, for Audor was determined not to leave one single man of Clan Keith on his lands. Not then, and not ever.

Donald’s wound had been tended to, if only superficially, before they could get him back to the castle and seen by the healer. The wound was deep, and not able to ride back, word was hurriedly sent back to the castle that they needed a carriage to transport him.

While Evelyn had sat with her father and waited for the carriage to arrive, Audor, Killian and Benedict had moved through the house. All the soldiers were dead, as was their leader, but there was one more thing that needed to be done. They had to find the maid’s son.

They had discovered Sammy in a room at the rear of the house unconscious and almost gone. The three had stood there solemnly gazing down at the tiny frame of a lad and took him immediately to the infirmary where thankfully he woke up six whole days later. They all thought Sammy was gone.

Only then, did Benedict feel truly sorry for the maid. He had been too consumed with rage and worry to acknowledge the predicament she had been put in. Wanting her son to live, she had done as she was told, believing that Laird Keith would keep his word and almost losing her son in front of her eyes. Those six days of torture, praying that Sammy would open his eyes, was a high price to pay for her betrayal, and later, he told Audor that the near death of her son was a punishment enough for her crimes.

Donald was hurriedly taken to the healer, and stripping his clothes, Dara immediately got to work. No matter how many times she was encouraged her to get some rest, Evelyn would not leave her father’s side. She was not alone though, for upon hearing the news of her father’s wound, Yvaine had rushed to be with her family.

While the sisters sat at their father’s bedside during the night, Benedict had remained with them, settled in a chair across the room. There was no longer a threat, and yet, he just could not leave Evelyn on her own, even now that they were back inside the castle walls.

Perhaps he was still on alert. Perhaps he would remain on alert for some time. But being so close to losing her had triggered an overprotectiveness in him.

“Ye need tae rest yersel’, Benedict,” Killian had said when he came to see how Donald was doing.

Benedict had sat with his arms defensively crossed over his chest. “I can rest in this chair.”

“Look at ye. Yer eyes are hanging out o’ yer head. Dinnae be a fool. After a few hours o’ sleep, ye can come back. Sure, I can stay here and keep an eye on things if ye like.”

“I’m nae leaving,” he had replied firmly.

Clearly, Killian had seen his determination, and knowing he would not persuade Benedict, he had refrained from pushing him any further.

On the third day, Donald had been well enough to be moved back into the castle, and into his own bedchamber. While Evelyn and Yvaine settled in the room with him, and fussed over him, Benedict left their side. It was Donald’s private space and it felt too much of an intrusion.

But he had then seen Evelyn. He needed to see her. He needed her soft embrace to ease the pain he felt at what he had suffered not knowing if he would ever see her again. In one of the drawing rooms of the castle, she had sat on a chaise lounge, and he had lay with his head in her lap. Tenderly, she had stroked his hair, her gentle caress soothing his troubled soul.

“How is yer faither doing, me love?”

“He’s recovering, slowly but surely. He makes a bad patient though, fer we can hardly get him tae stay in bed.” She grinned down at him.

Benedict had given her a smile. “Yer faither is a warrior. Staying still fer so long is likely driving him mad.”

“He’s driving me mad,” she had laughed lightly.

He had gazed lovingly into her eyes. “Ye cannae ken how delighted I am tae hear ye laugh again. There was a moment there, when I kent ye’d been taken, when I thought I would never hear it again.”

“Well, I am here now. Safe and sound.” She had brushed her fingers through his hair. “The threat is gone, Benedict. Ye need tae try and come tae terms with that. I’m nae longer in any danger. In fact, naeone is in danger any longer. And yet, ye are guarding me like I’m tae be snatched at any second.”

“It’s only because I love ye, Evelyn,” he had murmured.

“I ken that,” she had said kindly. “And I love ye too. But I’m here, by yer side. And naething or no one can hurt me again.”

A week had now passed since the battle, and with Donald moving about, if only for limited periods of time, Evelyn and Benedict finally got to spend some time together.

They were wandering around the gardens, hand in hand, when a servant hurried over to them. “Laird Sinclair would like tae see ye in the laird’s study, sir.”

“Thank ye,” Benedict replied. But as the servant turned and hurried away, Benedict frowned. “Why does yer faither want tae see me?”

Evelyn smiled up at him. “Perhaps he wants tae thank ye fer rescuing me.”