Chapter 11

CHAPTER ELEVEN

B enedict led Evelyn to the waiting horse and gently, but with ease, for it felt as though she weighed nothing at all, lifted her up onto it. A second later, he was sitting close behind her with the reins in hand.

"We couldnae have taken two horses?" Evelyn said, sounding a little breathless as they left through the castle gate.

"I'd like us tae get home this night, Evelyn," Benedict teased. "The idea of ye trying tae steer a horse in a drunken state doesnae bear thinking about."

"Ah, I see," she replied. While he could not see it, Benedict could hear the smile in her voice.

As they continued, however, he had to wonder if his decision to travel on one horse had been a good idea. Pressed so close against her, there were ruminations in parts of his body that might cause him embarrassment if he was not careful. And yet, he could not help himself. With the reins held in one hand, he slipped the other around her waist, pulling her even closer into him. He heard her gasp, and could only smile at her reaction.

"Are ye afraid I might fall?" she asked tentatively.

"Something like that," he growled back.

And then she surprised him by snuggling further into him. Her soft scent caught in his nostrils, and his groin ached at her closeness, and yet, as torturous as it was, he did not want to let her go.

But ye will have tae soon. When yer braither returns, ye will have tae let her go forever.

Benedict pushed that thought from his mind, as if ignoring it might make it untrue. When Audor came home, he would indeed, need to take a step back. But at that very moment, he was not there, and thus, Benedict was going to take the opportunity of being near Evelyn, no matter how foolish his actions were.

The Golden Gill was far busier than the last time they had been there, and upon arrival, Benedict found himself being welcomed warmly, and loudly, by all those present. When he had finished greeting all who approached him, as well as introducing Evelyn to those who had not yet met her, he threaded his way through the tavern in search of a table.

"Here, me laird," Charles Gunn said, waving them over. "Please. Take mine."

"Thank ye, Charles. ‘Tis very good o' ye."

Soon afterwards, James battled through the throngs with a tankard of ale in each hand.

"Can I get ye any food, me laird?" James asked, as hospitable as he always was.

"Nae this night, James. Just make certain ye keep them coming." Benedict nodded to the tankards.

"Aye, me laird." James grinned, before turning away and battling back through the crowd again.

Looking at Evelyn, Benedict lifted his tankard. "Yer first challenge." He nodded to her drink. "Ye have tae finish yers ‘afore I can finish mine."

Evelyn's mouth fell open, and Benedict burst out a hearty laugh.

"There isnae a chance I can dae it," she gasped.

"Och, come on. Ye have tae give it a try."

Grabbing her tankard in her hand, Evelyn looked at it fearfully, before looking back at Benedict.

"Are ye ready?" he challenged.

"Nae really," she replied with wide eyes.

"On three. One, two, three."

While his eyes did not leave from watching her, he brought the ale to his lips and began to drink. She struggled, as he knew she would, and he watched as trickles of the ale spilled out at the side and dribbled down her chin. Seeing her gasping and staring at him, he slowed down a little to give her a chance. But he knew he would beat her no matter what. It wasn't exactly much of a challenge.

When he slammed his tankard on the table, Evelyn was still drinking, but her tankard was tipped right back, and she was nearly there.

Eventually, gasping and choking a little, she slammed her own tankard on the table.

"That's it, lass," he bellowed while still chuckling.

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?"

Taking her in his arms, he swallowed a chuckle and lifted her onto the horse. She sat there for a moment, gazing down at him, her head slowly bobbing from side to side like it wasn't attached to her neck.

"Ye're a really handsome man. Dae ye ken that?" she rambled, taking hold of his cheeks with her hands.

Lowering her face towards him, Benedict knew what she wanted, but taking her hands gently in his, he shook his head slowly. "This isnae the time, Evelyn."

"But why?" she whined.

"Because ye're drunk. Now. Let's get ye back tae the castle ‘afore yer faither discovers we've been missing."

Yvaine opened the bedchamber door when they arrived back, and looking a little taken aback at her sister's state, she gasped.

"Hello, Yvaine," Evelyn exclaimed loudly with a grin.

"Shh, Evelyn," Yvaine hissed. "Ye're going tae wake the whole castle."

"Ye cannae wake the castle, silly. It's nae alive."

Benedict grinned at Yvaine and shook his head. "Yer sister has had a good night."

"Aye, I can see that," Yvaine said, slipping herself under Evelyn's other shoulder and helping him steer her towards her bed.

Once they sat her down, Evelyn swayed from side to side, while Yvaine gazed at her sister worriedly.

"She'll be all right, Yvaine," Benedict said. "Just let her sleep it off."

"I dinnae need tae sleep it off," Evelyn protested loudly. "What am I sleeping off at any rate? What are we talking about?"

Yvaine grinned widely up at Benedict. "She did have a good time."

"We had a great time. In fact, it's the happiest I've seen her since yer family arrived here."

"Good," Yvaine said. She gave him a strange look, and then, dropping her gaze, she turned to help her sister.

"Good night, Evelyn," Benedict whispered as he slowly left the room.

"Night," she drawled back, already sounding half asleep.

With a smile on his lips, Benedict slowly closed the door behind him and made his way to his own chamber.

A faint knocking disturbed him from his slumber, and upon waking, Benedict wondered if he was hearing things. Sitting up in bed, he cocked his head sideways and strained to listen.

Tap, tap, tap.

There's someone at me door. But who the devil is it at this time o' night?

Why dinnae ye get out o' bed and find out, ye eedjit?!

Throwing the coverlets off, he padded across the wooden floor and warily opened the door. He could hardly believe his eyes when he saw Evelyn stood there, wrapped in a shawl.

"What the devil are ye doing here?" he hissed.

"I had tae see ye."

"Ye ken it's the middle o' the night, dinnae ye?"

The sound of voices echoed through the corridor from a little distance away, and, thinking it might be the guards, and fearing they would see her, Benedict grabbed Evelyn by the wrist and dragged her into the room.

"What are ye doing here, Evelyn?" Benedict repeated.

Looking a little coy, she dropped her gaze and shuffled from one foot to the other. "Ye didnae want tae kiss me earlier because I was drunk."

"Evelyn," Benedict began.

"Nae, please. Ye must listen tae me. I've slept a while, and I'm nae drunk any longer. ‘Tis me who wants tae kiss ye. ‘Tis the feelings o' me heart that have brought me here. Nae the liquor."

Her eyes sparkled as she looked up at him with nervous anticipation. It had taken some will power earlier to stop himself from kissing her, but he simply refused to take advantage of her in the state she was in. Now, however, it was clear Evelyn was indeed, sober. Nor could he deny, by her words or her actions, that she was of sound mind.

"This isnae a good idea.

"It's only one kiss," she said, the plea in her voice evident.

He knew what he was going to do before he took her face in his hands. He just couldn't help himself. She was an elixir for his soul. A soothing tonic for a wound no one could see. A satisfaction for his craving.

Taking a step forward, he placed his huge hands on the soft skin of her cheeks and lowered his lips to hers. As the times before, she opened up to him, yielding to his desire, and yet, even her lips could not satiate his hunger. Breathlessly, their tongues roved, and flicked, and explored, she appearing as hungry as he.

Her arms snaked around his body as far as they would go, while he pulled her into him, feeling the warmth from her dancing on his skin. Her hands clawed at him, trying to pull him even closer, but their bodies were pressed tight with not a breath between them.

With his lips clashing against hers, and the sparks between them nearly bursting into flames, Benedict could feel his heart racing, his gut clenching, and his groin aching for her. He wanted her in that moment. In fact, he had never desired her as much as he desired her now.

What about Audor?

Even in the throes of passion his mind would not let him have this moment. And as much as he wanted to push the thought of his brother from his head, the guilt grew from one second to the next.

Eventually, he could stand it no longer, and slowly breaking free from Evelyn's embrace, Benedict took a step back. "My God, woman. That's one hell o' a second kiss."

If only her passion was for me, and nae Audor.

"Third," she gasped breathlessly, gazing up at him with fire still dancing in her eyes.

Benedict laughed nervously, for clearly, Audor had kissed her before he left. He would know that if he was Audor, and quite swiftly, he found himself on the back foot, scrabbling to try and correct himself.

"Och, aye. There was that time…" he rambled vaguely, hoping to god he was right.

"Nay," she said softly, a slow smile dancing on her lips. "The first time ye ever kissed me was in Laird Mackay's library on the eve o' his wedding. And, while we are discussing it, me faither can never ken I was there."

A cold sensation ran through the entirety of Benedict's body as he realized she knew who he was. Stunned to silence, he could not even move, and instead, stared at her with wide eyes.

"When?" he said finally. "When did ye ken?"

"I've kent from the beginning, Benedict. I've been able tae tell ye and yer brother apart from the first night we arrived. Almost immediately."

"But how?" he blurted, completely astonished. "Nae one else can."

She smiled at him. "I'm going tae keep that as my little secret."

Still reeling, the next question seemed to fall from his mouth. "Why didnae ye say anything? Why didnae ye tell me ye kent?"

Evelyn's smile faded then, and she dropped her gaze. A silence fell between them. A silence that Benedict neither understood, nor wanted to continue.

"Evelyn—"

"It would make it all real," she breathed. "If I told ye I kent, it would make how I feel about ye, and how ye feel about me, real. And… and I didnae want tae face the truth because… well, because…"

"It's all right, Evelyn," Benedict said, taking her hand in his.

He led her to the bed and pulled her to sit down beside him.

"I ken exactly what ye mean. I dae. Me heart has ached fer ye, as yers has ached fer me. I've been battling me feelings all this time."

She gasped and gazed up at him. "As have I."

Benedict nodded.

Lowering his lips to hers, he kissed her once more. The guilt from earlier still lingered, but in that moment, he pushed it away. His heart won the battle over his mind, and all he wanted was her. His yearning for her had grown stronger than ever, from the moment they had shared in the library to now, and no longer able to fight against his desires, he ignored the thoughts of betrayal until they disappeared from his mind altogether.

Slowly pushing Evelyn back on the bed, his hand worked at the strings on her frock, while his mouth devoured her. Breathlessly, she kissed him back, her evident want of him parallel to his own desire. Sliding his hand into the material, he cupped her breast, finding the pert nub of her nipple. Evelyn gasped as he tenderly stroked it, his nimble fingers hardening it even more.

"I want ye more now than I've ever wanted anyone, Evelyn," he growled against her lips. But she seemed too lost in what he was doing to be able to reply.

Moving his lips from hers, he trailed kisses down her throat. "Yer skin is so soft. I want me lips over every inch o' ye. I want to taste ye, and show ye how I feel about ye."

Reaching her bosom, he flicked his tongue over her pert nipple, and growled with delight at Evelyn's gasps. Her fingers gripped his tunic as he continued, pushing him and pulling him as she writhed with pleasure.

While his tongue still teased her nipple, he reached down her legs and pulled her frock up over her knees. The skin of her thighs felt like silk beneath his fingers, and with the lightest touch, he caressed the inner part, all the way to her apex. Automatically, Evelyn opened her legs, granting him silent entry.

When he felt the soft moistness on his fingertips, his stomach flipped, his manhood hardened even more, and a low groan left the depths of his throat. "Oh, Evelyn," he growled. "Ye're so ready fer me."

She whimpered as his fingers found the tiny nub, he knew would bring her so much pleasure, and slowly, he caressed it as she continued to writhe beneath him.

"Oh, God," she panted, grabbing at his clothes and moving her hips in time with his rhythm. "Oh, God."

"Oh, aye," he growled, his tongue making circles around her nipple, before flicking it. Benedict moved his fingers faster, listening to her panting and whimpering above him. He could feel her body tensing, and knew she was so close. Soon, she would explode with a sensation she had never before experienced, and he reveled in the fact that it was he who was going to give it to her.

"Oh, oh, oh," she panted.

She sucked in a deep breath, and for a second, he felt nothing, as though she were teetering on a precipice, waiting to fall. And then…

"Oh, me God," she squealed.

Her body spasmed beneath his touch, and even though he was hard as a rock, Benedict was far more delighted that he had brought her to the peak of such ecstasy.