Chapter 13

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

B reakfast had been an awkward affair.

Given that neither Evelyn nor Yvaine were present, Benedict had been forced to make conversation with Laird Sinclair, who was not the most forthcoming man at the best of times, but that morning appeared even less sociable. Of course, it didn't help that Benedict could not stop thinking about the laird's daughter.

Killian had tried to help, but in the end, Benedict was relieved when he was finally able to excuse himself.

When he and Killian arrived at Audor's study, Killian gave him news of what the scouts had reported.

"They searched the village and the surrounding areas, Benedict," Killian had said, "but there was nay sign o' these men ye saw. If Laird Keith's men are on our land, their camp is well hidden."

"And what o' the villagers? Have they seen anything?" he had said.

Killian had shrugged. "They don't seem to have seen anything."

"Where more guards put on the borders?" Benedict had pressed.

"Aye. As ye instructed."

For a moment, Benedict had been at a loss as to what to do. He had no doubt that Evelyn had been certain of what she had seen the day they had visited the village. He trusted she knew what Keith Clan colors looked like. She had certainly seen them often enough.

Abruptly, he had stood from the desk. "We should go and see the villagers ourselves and ask more questions. I cannae take a chance on this, Killian. If they're out there, then the Sinclair's are in danger, and we need tae be ready tae defend them."

The cousins had spent much of the day in the village, talking to the locals to see if they had seen anything suspicious. Some told them they had seen nothing strange, while others had made mention of a few faces that were definitely not local.

Of course, while he was trying his best to listen, he was distracted. After their shared experience the night before, how could he possibly keep Evelyn from his thoughts? Sleep had taken a long time to come after he had walked her back to her room. Partly because he had replayed their time together over and over in his head, and partly because the guilt he had managed to repress had returned with a vengeance.

"I dinnae think we can get anymore done here, Benedict," Killian said, after they had spoken to nearly everyone who had been available.

"Aye, I suppose ye're right. It feels like a waste o' time, for we've learned naething new."

Killian shook his head. "I dinnae think it was a waste o' time. The villagers need tae see their laird trying tae protect them. It's his job."

"Then he ought tae get his arse back tae the castle and dae it," Benedict huffed.

"Are ye all right?" Killian was looking at him intently, and clearly worried.

"I'm fine," he spat. "Me braither has vanished off the face o' the earth, the clan is on the brink o' an attack, and me love life is in the latrine. Apart from that, everything's just wonderful."

Killian smirked. "Well, that's all right then. We should head back."

"So," Killian said, as they travelled back to the castle. "Ye were at the tavern with Evelyn last night."

Plenty of villagers had mentioned it as they had questioned them, so Benedict was ready for this conversation. He knew Killian would bring it up sooner or later.

"Aye. The lass told me she'd always wondered what it was like to have one too many drinks, and that she wanted tae find out."

"And ye, in yer infinite wisdom, kenning how deeply yer heart pines fer her, decided it was a good idea that it was ye who should take her," Killian drawled sarcastically.

"She got what she wanted."

"And did ye?" Killian threw him a glance.

Benedict was considering how to answer that, when a bone-chilling scream set them both on alert. He didn't think about it. He just pushed his horse forward at a gallop. Killian did the same, and the two thundered down the track at the fastest speed their horses could carry them.

Less than five minutes later, a group of men wearing Clan Keith colors came into view, but it was not the sight of the men that terrified Benedict. It was the fact they had Evelyn bound and thrown over a horse. She was fighting with all her might, but there were too many of them.

"Bastards!" he yelled.

Killian threw him a glance, a shared look of knowing that, no matter how many of them they were, the two were about to advance into battle.

"We're outnumbered," Benedict yelled, as they continued their approach.

"That's never stopped us ‘afore," Killian growled back breathlessly. "Let's get the bastards."

Launching themselves from their horses, the cousins drew their swords. Holding them high in the air, they ran at the men screaming an attack.

Benedict punched the first one so hard, he flew backwards. The next came at him wielding a sword, and a thrashing battle commenced. The sound of clashing metal drowned out anything else, as he fought one after the other, but from the corner of his eye, Benedict noticed that Evelyn had pushed herself off the horse, and was struggling with the ropes that bound her.

Killian had disabled two more and ran towards her, and knowing she had Killian by her side, Benedict turned to concentrate all his attention and strength on the remaining two. Seeing the carnage that surrounded them, the panic and fear evident on their faces, they turned and ran into the woods, leaving their horses behind them.

Relief flooded through Benedict, but there was no time for celebration, and turning, he ran over to where Evelyn and Killian stood. He expected her to be quaking with fear, but as delicate as Evelyn Sinclair appeared, she had a hidden strength about her, for she was not fearful, but angry.

"…and they came out of nowhere," she was saying to Killian.

"Evelyn," Benedict breathed, throwing his arms around her and not caring a wit what Killian might think about it. Pushing her back from him, and searching her body, he continued. "Are ye injured? Did they hurt ye? Are ye all right?"

"Benedict, I'm fine," she said determinedly.

Killian flinched and gawped at him.

"Aye, she kens." Benedict nodded. "She's kenned all along."

"Killian!" Evelyn suddenly shrieked.

Benedict jerked his head to discover her pointing at Killian, and when he looked at where she was pointing, Benedict's eye's flew wide too. "Ye're injured."

Clearly, Killian had been too busy fighting and saving Evelyn to notice, but when he looked down at the blood soaking into the side of his tunic, he simply said, "Och."

"We need tae get ye back tae the castle," Evelyn said hurriedly.

"I'm fine," Killian said, waving a dismissive hand. "Besides, I think those two," he jerked a head towards the two guards, "need more help than I."

The two guards who had accompanied Evelyn, and had evidently been knocked out, were only now, coming round from their unconscious state.

"Get back tae the castle," Benedict said to Killian. "I'll help the guards."

"Indeed, I willnae," Killian replied stubbornly. "We dinnae ken if those two ran off tae more o' there clan. They could be on their way back here with reinforcements. And if ye think I'm leaving ye here fer ye tae have all the fun, ye can think again."

Killian was smirking, but Benedict didn't smile back. "Then at least get up on yer horse. If ye collapse from bleeding, it'll save me having tae lift yer hefty lump ontae it."

"This is all me fault," Evelyn said, as Benedict walked towards the guards who had now managed to get themselves onto their feet. "I'm so sorry, Killian."

Killian was brushing off her worry, when the guards approached Benedict.

"I'm so sorry, me laird. They came out o' nowhere. There wasnae any warning," Jared said.

"We tried tae fight them off, me laird, but they were too many," Peter added.

Both men looked ashamed and disappointed, but Benedict couldn't fault them. Six against two was an unfair fight by anybody's standards.

"It isnae yer fault," Benedict said calmly. "Get yersel's together. We need tae head back tae the castle before they return."

"Aye, me laird," the men replied in unison.

By the time they reached the healer's cottage, Killian's tunic was soaked in blood, and Benedict was worried. Helping his cousin off the horse, Killian protested.

"Ye are making a fuss over nothing. I feel fine."

"Killian, please," Evelyn said, hurrying to his other side.

Benedict ignored Killian, and upon entering the cottage, called Dara over.

The older woman hurried towards them, her face a picture of concern. "What happened?"

"He's been injured, Dara," Benedict said. "Sword, we think."

"Get him on the bed," the old woman ordered.

Dara had been the clan's healer for as long as Benedict could remember. When he was a child, he recalled her being a pretty woman, but the years had taken their toll, and now white hair sat on her shoulders, where red had been before, and the lines on her face and hands betrayed the many years she had served those around her.

"This is all me fault," Evelyn repeated, hovering by the bedside as Dara cut into the tunic.

"Are ye the one who stabbed him?" Dara asked, lifting sharp blue eyes to look at Evelyn.

"Nay, but?—"

"Then it isnae yer fault," Dara said plainly.

"He was injured because he was helping me," Evelyn countered. Turning to Killian, she said, "I'm so sorry, Killian."

"Lady Sinclair, will ye please stop fussing." He smiled. "There's nae need for all this guilt. I've had worse injuries sparring with Benedict."

By now, Dara had cleaned the wound and was inspecting it closely. No one said a word, waiting for her to make her verdict. Eventually, she stood from bending, and turning to Killian, she said, "Ye'll live. It looks worse than it is. It's a gash, and it'll need attention, but it isnae deep."

Smiling up at Evelyn, Killian said, "Ye see. I'm fine."

Evelyn's frown betrayed that she was not entirely convinced, but Benedict did notice her shoulders seem to relax a little. It had not been her fault, everyone else in the room knew that.

The guards said the attack had come from nowhere, and he believed them. What he didn't understand is what they wanted with Evelyn. Had they been taking her to kill her, as they had her mother? Or did Laird Keith have other plans? If so, what?

Perhaps he thinks kidnapping Evelyn will put a stop tae the alliance.

That could be it, but then, Laird Sinclair had another daughter to offer. It would be no great task to put Yvaine in Evelyn's place. Nay. It doesnae make sense. There's something else. I just cannae think what.

Darkness had already fallen when the three entered the castle. Immediately, they were met by a very concerned looking Laird Sinclair and Yvaine.

"Och, Evelyn," Yvaine cried. "We were so worried about ye. Where have ye been?"

Benedict watched Evelyn struggle with her answer. Clearly, she did not want her father to know where she had been, or why. He was about to step in when he realized he did not know what story Evelyn had given them before she had left.

"I… I was just out for a ride," Evelyn began. "Sure, I told ye, Yvaine, that I was going tae get some fresh air."

"Fer five hours?" her father barked.

"It's me fault," Benedict interjected, now he knew the situation. "Killian and I were riding and came upon Lady Sinclair. As it was a fine day, we decided tae show her the clan land that she will soon rule over with me. I'm afraid time got away from us. Forgive me, me laird."

He watched Yvaine's eyes darting from Evelyn to himself, before looking to her father. Like everyone else, she was wondering if he would believe the story. For a moment, Laird Sinclair did not reply. He was either trying to make the story fit in his head, or struggling to find something to say.

Eventually, he spoke directly to Benedict. "I understand ye dinnae yet have children, me laird. I am certain, that time will come fer ye and me daughter. It is fer this reason that ye cannae understand a man's fear when his child leaves a place o' safety and doesnae return fer hours."

"I apologize, me laird," Benedict said sincerely. "In hindsight, I ought tae have thought about that. I assure ye, it willnae happen again."

"Well, thank goodness ye are returned," Yvaine said quickly, grabbing Evelyn by her arm and walking down the corridor. "Ye must be starved."

Benedict, Killian and Donald were left standing in an awkward moment. Benedict would have preferred to speak to Evelyn, but he could do that later. Now, he ought to smooth things over with her father.

"Will ye nae join us in the library fer a drink, me laird. I have a great whisky I think ye might enjoy."

Donald nodded. "Aye. I think after the last couple o' hours, I could dae with one."