Page 61 of Seduction in a Kilt

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

When he arrived outside Knox’s study a few minutes later, a servant greeted him. “The laird has called an emergency council meetin’, Sir. He asks that ye attend as soon as ye can.”

“Aye, thank ye.” Liam told him and headed along the hallway to the council chamber. The discussion was in full swing when he unobtrusively slipped inside and took a vacant seat near the top of the table, to Knox’s left. He immediately noticed Evander sitting next to Magnus on the other side of the table.

He noticed that the council members nearest to him were leaning away from the bizarre figure in the cloak and cloth mask and looking at him askance. He also saw that Evander’s cloak had fallen open, revealing that he had been disarmed.

“Ah, Liam, we’ve been waitin’ fer ye tae start. I want ye tae be here when we question this feller.” He jerked his chin at Evander. “But first things first. How’s the lassie? Is she badly hurt?” he added worriedly.

“She has a nasty gash in her arm, and she’s lost a bit of blood. But Effie says she’ll be fine,” Liam replied.

Knox breathed a sigh of obvious relief and shared a small smile with Magnus. “That’s good tae hear. How did that happen?”

Liam briefly explained how he, Ivy, and Evander had come to be at the chapel in the first place. “Then some of Gael’s men turned up.” He paused to give Evander a dark glance. “And we ended up havin’ tae fight our way out.”

Knox must have caught the look, for he asked, “When ye say we had tae fight d’ye include him in that? I’m just wonderin’ why he’s nae in chains right now as a possible MacAlister spy.”

“I’m wonderin’ that mesel’, and I’m hopin’ I’m nae makin’ a big mistake by bringin’ him before ye,” Liam admitted. “But Ivy seems tae trust him, and when he asked for sanctuary here, she persuaded me to bring him back. He did fight alongside us and helped tae stop Ivy from bein’ abducted. That’s the only reason he’s sittin’ here and nae locked up.”

Knox now looked at Evander with fresh curiosity, as did everyone in the room. “What’s the cloak and mask in aid of then?” Knox asked the stranger tersely. “Are ye a leper or is yer face disfigured in some way?”

A sigh came from beneath the mask. Evander began to stand up. Immediately, Liam, Knox, and Magnus visibly tensed, and their hands flew to their sword hilts.

Evander raised his palms in a gesture of surrender. “Hey, I mean nae harm. I’m here tae help. I’m just going tae take off the mask, all right?” he said. Liam stared at Evander as the man pulled off his hat.

What had caught Liam’s ear was that there was an edge of a strange accent to it which Liam did not recognize. He had not previously noticed it. But he realized that Evander, or whoever he was, was an Outlander.

Evander had dropped his hat to the floor. His hair was fair and straight, and it lay close to his head, flattened by the hat. He shrugged out of the cloak. Beneath it he was wearing unremarkable clothing, a padded leather coat and trews. He was tall and rangy. He looked strong, but considering his considerable fighting skills, Liam was somewhat surprised to see he lacked the well-developed muscles of a warrior.

Another thing he noticed was that Evander sported no clan tattoos. This was another clue that Evander was not originally a Highlander. Liam’s curiosity and suspicions rose.

A tense silence reined in the chamber as Evander reached behind his head to unfasten the ties of the filthy fabric mask covering his face. When it came away, revealing his actual face, he ran a scarred hand through his hair. It stood out from his head, blond and spiky, already receding from his brow.

He stood before them, letting them take him in. “Now, ye see me for who I am,” he said in his strange accent, a mixture of Scots and something foreign.

There was silence for a few moments as everyone stared at him.

Liam saw man in his mid-forties, he thought. His face was somewhat gaunt, with high cheekbones, hollow cheeks, and a high forehead. His complexion was fair and slightly florid, his chin covered with light-brown stubble. But it was his eyes that caught attention. They were large and a very light gray, and they shone almost silver in the candlelit chamber.

Knox broke the silence by flapping a hand at him and saying, “All right, ye can sit down now.”

“Thank ye,” Evander said with a small nod, resuming his seat. Liam was amazed that he appeared quite at ease and completely uncowed by what he must have known was a precarious the situation for him. He could just as easily been languishing in the castle dungeons by now, or have had his head lopped from his shoulders, as be sitting here in the council chamber before the laird.

Yet the man seemed at ease, with not so much as a bead of sweat on his forehead. Liam instinctively sensed they were dealing with someone used to dissembling and quickly adapting to situation. Someone who would make the perfect spy.

In short, Evander was a cool customer, resilient, intelligent, and wily, and as far as he was concerned, as slippery as the proverbial eel.

“All right, tell us who ye are and why ye’re here askin’ fer sanctuary,” Knox said, leaning forward with his elbows on the table and resting his chin on his steepled fingers.

“He’s nae a Scot,” Liam said darkly.

Evander shot him an unreadable glance, then he nodded. “Aye, that is true. I wasnae born a Scot. I was born in Utrecht, in Holland. But I’ve been here many years now. I count mesel’ an honorary Scotsman now.”

Knox nodded. “That’s as maybe. So what have ye been doin’ since ye’ve been here, Dutchman?” There was an implied insult in his tone which told Evander that he could have lived in the Highlands for a thousand years, but he would never be considered a Scotsman.

“Until not very long ago, I was in the employ of Carson MacAlister.”

A low rumble of disapproval rippled around the table from the councilors. Liam leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs and folding his arms, settling in to hear the man’s story—fable or lies, he expected.