Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

B enedict was waiting in front of the stables when Evelyn approached. She looked no less beautiful that day as any other day, garnered in a pretty deep green gown. As difficult as it was, he forced himself to swallow the desire that arose at the sight of her.

"Good day tae ye, me laird," she said as she approached.

"I thought we were using our Christian names?" he teased with a smile.

She smiled back and nodded. "Forgive me oversight," she quipped, repeating his words from the day before.

As they rode their horses out of the castle and headed toward the village, Evelyn said, "Were ye nae at the village yesterday?"

Benedict frowned. "Whatever gave ye that idea?"

"Well, at breakfast the other morning, Killian made mention o' it. He said that ye needed tae speak tae a village member."

He searched his brain for such an occurrence, and then remembered Killian's words. They had agreed to say such a thing in front of everyone simply to assert that he was laird. It was a stupid suggestion, as far as Benedict was concerned, but Killian had said it was imperative to keep up pretenses. Now, of course, the lie had come back to bite him.

But what was he supposed to say? He couldn't tell her he had been to the village. If he had gone yesterday, it would be nonsensical that he was returning today. Besides, the welcome from the villagers, for they always welcomed Audor so enthusiastically, would certainly give it away. He expected they would be delighted to see him when they arrived. Their reaction would give Evelyn reason for suspicion if they greeted him with the same delight two days in a row.

So, what am I supposed tae tell her?

By a miracle, an idea came to him. He had already deduced she was a smart woman. He could only hope that she would believe him. It was her intelligence that was making this pretense all the more difficult, and Benedict feared that sooner or later, he was going to slip up somewhere and blow the deceit wide open.

"The villager came tae the castle," he said, as confidently as he could.

"Och, I see."

He was listening to see if he could hear any suspicion in her voice, but there was no detectable inflection of disbelief. He had gotten away with it this time, but clearly, he would have to be more careful in the future.

As they arrived at the village, they were approached by the people who happened to see them. Benedict dismounted and carefully lifted Evelyn down from her horse.

"Me laird, ‘tis lovely tae see ye," an older woman gushed.

"Me laird, me laird," a young boy cried, jumping up and down on the spot.

More villagers gathered, and Benedict smiled and greeted them all. While he had expected it, it felt strange receiving such adoration. It was usually his brother getting such attention, the people only knowing the brothers apart by Audor's clan ring, which Benedict now wore.

It was not difficult to act like Audor in this situation. Benedict was as fond of those that made up the clan as his brother. He greeted small children, and smiled warmly at the older women. Most of the men were absent, likely working on the land.

Evelyn found that she, too, received much attention, especially from the young children. They gawped up at her, clearly astounded by her beauty. Benedict could sympathize. She did have the ability to take one's breath away.

The children followed them through the village for a little while, and then, soon enough, they were called away by their mothers. He watched Evelyn take in her surroundings, and upon passing a small stall selling jewelry, he noticed as she fingered a pendant with a deep green stone. She did not linger, however, and they continued on.

Leading the way, he headed to the blacksmith. After lying to everyone the night before, stating that he had some things to deal with in the village, he and Killian had been forced to come up with some ideas after Laird Sinclair's suggestion that Evelyn accompany him. He could hardly visit the village just for the sake of it.

After dinner last night, they had spent a full hour trying to think of something. Being the very organized person Audor was, there were no real matters to attend to, pressing or otherwise, and for a while, both men were completely stumped. When they finally managed to come up with a scenario, albeit, far from perfect, Benedict had slumped back in his chair with a glass of amber liquid.

Looking over at Killian, he had shaken his head. "This lairdship malarkey is exhausting."

Arriving at the blacksmith's yard, he and Evelyn could see the burly man working from where they stood. Thomas, busy as always, wielded a huge hammer and was striking a piece of metal that glowed red from being in the fire.

"Good day tae ye, Thomas," Benedict called out loudly, trying to make himself heard over the racket.

Upon hearing his name, Thomas halted in mid-swing, his hammer high in the air, and looked out into the courtyard. When he saw Benedict, he looked a little surprised, but smiled warmly all the same.

"Good day tae ye, me laird," he said, dropping the hammer and stepping over several tools that lay round about him. Once out in the yard, he offered a burly, blackened hand. Benedict took it and shook it firmly.

"It is some time since I have seen ye in the village, me laird."

The statement made Benedict grateful that he had not told Evelyn he had come to the village yesterday. That was the problem with lying. One always needed to keep a track of what one had said.

"And yet, it is always a joy fer me when I come," Benedict said diplomatically. "I am here tae ask ye tae visit the castle. Many o' our horses need yer attention, fer worn shoes and their hooves."

Thomas frowned again and looked even more surprised than he had a moment earlier. He knew as well as Benedict that it was usual for the stable hands to come to him with such requests. Clearly, he was struggling to understand why his laird was there, doing such a menial task.

It had been the only thing Killian and Benedict had been able to come up with. It was risky, but they had not been able to think of anything else.

Before Thomas had a chance to protest or question him, Benedict opened his eyes wide, and then glanced at Evelyn, who still stood at his side. It was a silent plea to go along with what he was doing.

Thankfully, Thomas was quick in his understanding, and dropping the frown, he smiled, and then nodded, as though a laird doing a servant's messages was the most natural thing in the world.

"O' course, me laird," Thomas said, with a swift recovery. "I can visit on the morrow, if yer request isnae urgent."

Breathing with relief, Benedict continued the farce. "There isnae any urgency, Thomas. The morrow will dae well. While I am here, I ought tae introduce ye. This is Lady Sinclair, my betrothed." Turning to Evelyn, Benedict continued. "Lady, Sinclair, this is Thomas Smith."

"It is a pleasure tae meet ye, Thomas," Evelyn said kindly.

Thomas looked a little bashful, and gazing down at her, replied, "I believe the pleasure is all mine, me lady."

"Good. Well. Thank ye, Thomas," Benedict said quickly. The farce was over, and now, they could be on their way. "We will leave ye tae yer work."

"Farewell, me laird, me lady."

Evelyn smiled and waved goodbye, and then, Benedict led her back onto the main street of the village. As they neared The Golden Gill , a tavern situated on their left, Benedict turned to Evelyn. "How about a little luncheon?"

Evelyn smiled. "Luncheon sounds grand."

"Good."

Again, he was welcomed warmly by the innkeeper and his wife, both delighted that the laird had graced their establishment with his presence. Once more, he introduced Evelyn, and once more, she was welcomed with warm enthusiasm.

After ordering a meal, they settled at a table near a window. The innkeeper hurriedly served them tankards of ale, and promised they would not have to wait long for their food.

"Ye are surrounded by good people," Evelyn said wistfully. "Which, in me experience, is the sign o' good leadership."

"A laird is only as good as the people he serves," Benedict replied. It was something Audor would likely say, and Benedict agreed with such sentiments.

She gazed up at him with a soft smile. "Then the man who leads these people must be good as well, if nae only by association."

Her wording was a little strange, but Benedict nodded. "I have found they have made me a better man."

"I'm sure they have," she agreed.

She still gazed at him, her eyes glistening, that soft smile expressed with ease and contentment. And as much as he knew it was dangerous, he couldn't help but gaze back at her with the same tenderness. His reaction to her in that moment was the very reason he had deemed it wise to stay away, and yet, as though powerless against an invisible force, she pulled him in.

Arriving at the table with their steaming food, the inn-keeper broke the moment.

"Enjoy yer meal, me laird," James said cheerfully. "This one is on the house."

"Nay, nay," Benedict protested. "I willnae hear o' it,"

"Please, me laird. It isnae every day we have the privilege o' cooking for the laird and his soon-tae-be bride. It is our honor."

"And ye have a living tae make, James," Benedict replied.

"One meal will hardly deprive us, me laird." The innkeeper gave them a warm smile, before turning and leaving them to eat.

Benedict shook his head and determined that he would leave some coin, no matter what the innkeeper said. When he turned to speak to Evelyn again, he found her smiling broadly at him.

"What are ye smiling about?"

She shrugged lightly. "I just think ye have a good heart. That's all."

He felt a little embarrassed at those words, having not heard them from any other before. So much so, he did not know how to respond, and instead, changed the subject.

"Well, James' wife has outdone herself, for this looks delicious."

Evelyn looked at her food and frowned. "What is it?"

Benedict could hardly believe his ears and looked at her with wide eyes. "Ye have never had Scotch Pie before?"

She shook her head. "I cannae say that I have."

"Lord, woman, ye havenae lived. Ye must try it. It is quite delicious."

But Evelyn hesitated, and as amused as he was at her curious expression, he lifted his fork, dug into his own pie, and then offered it to her. "Here. Try mine."

She looked a little wary as he held the fork out to her, but eventually, she opened her mouth. His gut clenched as she did so, and gazing at those soft sweet lips he remembered tasting, he moved his fork slowly towards her.

It felt like time had stopped. Like they were the only two people in the whole world. And as her lips wrapped around the fork, Benedict had to stop himself from physically groaning.

He knew she felt something too, for her eyes were wide, and never left his for a second. Her cheeks reddened, but still, she did not look away from him. As though in slow motion, he pulled the fork back, watching it catch the soft skin of her lips. The desire grew at every second, and now, his body was reacting in a place far lower than his gut.

"It's delicious," she breathed. "Thank ye."

"Aye, well," Benedict replied, clearing his throat, and breaking the tension. "Ye may eat yer own, fer I am too hungry tae give ye anymore o' mine."

He grinned at her, and she giggled at his teasing. This was now the second time he had resorted to humor to break the spell she seemed to put him under. It was becoming a bit of a habit.

"I will take it as my first gift," she said, tucking into her own meal.

"What dae ye mean, yer first gift?" Benedict frowned.

"Well, I have never been given a gift ‘afore. Not from anyone outside o' me family, at least," she said with a shrug.

While he struggled to believe her, he also knew she was not lying. He had seen her in a lie, and her expression was not the same.

"How is that possible?" he asked, digging his fork back into his pie.

"I dinnae ken, I suppose… Oh," she said, halting her sentence suddenly.

Benedict looked up to see Evelyn peering out of the window of the tavern.

"What's the matter?" he asked, watching her brow work into a frown.

"There are men out there wearing Clan Keith colors." Bringing her eyes back to him, she continued. "Why would any o' the Keith Clan be here in the village?"

It was now Benedict's turn to frown. "They wouldnae," he said, standing hurriedly from the table. Moving to look through the window, he searched the street for the men she spoke of, but they were no longer there.

"They're away," he said.

"Well, they were definitely there. I would ken those colors anywhere," she huffed knowingly.

Of course, she would. Their clan had been battling Clan Keith for over a year. And besides, it was that same clan who had murdered her mother.

"Are ye all right?" he said, placing a hand on her arm as he sat down again.

"I'm fine."

Giving her a long look to make sure she actually was fine, he eventually nodded. "I will call a gathering of the council when we return to the castle. This needs tae be addressed."

When their meal was over, and they had thanked James and Martha for their hospitality, Benedict and Evelyn left the tavern and walked back through the main street towards their horses.

"Was that all ye needed tae dae?" Evelyn asked.

Her question caught him off guard, and he frowned down at her.

"The blacksmith," she said as way of explanation. "Yer only reason fer coming tae the village was fer the blacksmith?"

"Well," Benedict shrugged uncomfortably, "aye."

"And there was nae one else in the castle that could have come and given him the message?" she said again, a smile dancing at the corner of her mouth.

As he had feared she might, Evelyn had figured out his ruse, and there was nothing he could do about it. Anything he now said in his defense would make him look guilty.

"Perhaps I just wanted tae show ye the village," he countered.

"Aye, but I wasnae originally supposed tae come with ye," she came back. "In fact, as I think about it, I have tae wonder if yer nae trying tae avoid me."

She was smirking now, and he knew she was trying to tease him. The problem was, she was not wrong.

"Never," Benedict said lightheartedly. Maybe the best way to deal with the circumstance was simply to keep things light and playful. "Who in their right mind could possibly want tae avoid such a lady as ye, Evelyn?"

She blushed, as he knew she would, and he smiled broadly at her light embarrassment. As they continued on, they passed the stall she had stopped at earlier. The pendant she had eyed, was still there, but he continued moving.

Once they reached the horses, he feigned a gasp. "Och, I need tae go back," he declared. "Wait here. I'll only be a moment."

Hurrying back to the stall, he purchased the pendant, and with the excitement of delight dancing in his gut, he made his way back to the horses.

"I have something fer ye," he said. Taking a step toward her, he opened his palm and showed her what he had bought.

Evelyn gasped. "That is fer me?"

She brought her fingers to her throat, taking hold of the pendant that sat at her neck. For a moment she looked thoughtful, and then she said, "Me maither gave me this necklace. When I touch it, it reminds me of her, which, I suppose, is why I frequently touch it."

"It's very beautiful," Benedict replied. "May I?" He gestured to it.

Evelyn nodded, and then, Benedict reached forward and, moving her hair to the side, carefully took the necklace from around her slender throat. Holding the delicate jewelry in his large hands, he then slipped the green stone pendant onto the chain.

Gazing at them as they sat in his huge palm, he said, "the two pendants go very well together."

He looked at Evelyn, whose eyes were still wide with astonishment. She, too, was gazing at the necklace, and by her delighted smile, Benedict knew he had made a good choice.

"Everyone deserves a present, Evelyn. I am pleased that I am the first person tae gift one tae ye."

"I dinnae ken what tae say," she said breathlessly.

"Ye dinnae have tae say anything."

Benedict could feel the familiar twisting in his gut, that growing desire he battled with every time he was near her. She gazed up at him with that same desire, and once more, sparks crackled between them.

"May I?" he asked again.

Wordlessly, Evelyn nodded. Her wide eyes watched him as he stepped close. She pulled her long hair from the back of her neck, while Benedict tied the necklace around her throat once more. His fingers grazed over the soft skin, and he felt Evelyn shiver.

The necklace was now attached, but Benedict did not move his hand. Instead, he held her gently, while at the same time, gazing down at her, his heart thumping with excitement, his thoughts wild with what he wanted to do with this woman.

He had promised himself he would stay away, but like a siren, her call reeled him in. It was a silent call, of course, but his heart heard it loud and clear. The moment crackled with tension as she gazed up at him, and he gazed down at her. And then, he seemed to have no control over his actions, for his mouth lowered to hers, and he kissed her with as much desire as he had had that night in the library. Her soft lips beneath his only fed his want of her, and slipping his tongue inside her mouth, he roved about, tasting her sweetness.

He could easily remain there for longer, but wary of being in such a public place, he fought against his longing.

"Ye cannae ken how much I want ye, Evelyn," he growled against her lips.

"Oh…" She floundered for a second, as though she had forgotten his name, and then said, "Audor."

Benedict slowly pulled away, still gazing at her with fire in his eyes. He nearly didn't care that he was torturing himself. Or that Evelyn thought she was kissing his brother. He just couldn't help wanting to be near her.

"We should be getting back," he panted, not really wanting to go back to the castle at all.

"Aye," she whispered breathlessly. "I suppose we should."

Once mounted on their beasts, they both appeared to be lost in deep thought, and thus, the journey back to the castle was strangely silent. What might be going through Evelyn's mind, Benedict could not know. He did, however, know what was going through his own.

How am I supposed tae continue this pretense? How can I spend these days with her, without telling her how I feel?

But to tell her how he felt, would be to tell her who he was, and all things considered, what would be the point? She was going to marry Audor. At that very moment, Evelyn was under the impression that he was Audor. For the sake of his brother, and the alliance, her discovering his identity could be detrimental. Besides, it wasn't fair on her.

Nae. Ye will remain silent. Ye will also be a better man and stay away from her. Naething good can come o' this. Nae fer ye, or fer her.

Once they arrived at the castle, Benedict saw to it that Evelyn was taken care of by the stable hands. "I must find Killian," he told her, before hurrying away.

Killian was in the armory taking stock of the weapons, but seeing the seriousness on Benedict's face at his approach, his cousin frowned.

"What ails ye, Benedict?" he said.

"We spotted Clan Keith's men in the village. We need tae summon the council immediately."