HIGHLANDER: The Highlander’s Surrender Bride (Scottish Alpha Male Pregnancy Romance) (73 page)

Chapter 2

She was greeted inside the door by a young girl who recognized her right away as soon she passed through. 

“Dr. Barret, good evening,” the young girl said brightly.  “Did you come alone tonight?”

Evie nodded.  “Yeah, I’m afraid that I did.”

The young girl nodded understandingly and with a tone that sounded obligatory she replied, “I’m sorry to hear that.  But feel free to help yourself to the bar and anything on the food table… everything is courtesy of the hospitals new patrons.”

“Thank you,” she replied mechanically and proceeded further in.

She passed deeper in the suite and found that the place wasn’t really much of a suite at all; it was more like a palace.  But only a fraction of the scale she would have imagined that it could have been.  There were high vaulted ceilings, wide hallways, and marble floors that were covered in plush carpets.   Expensive paintings hung on the walls and statues or busts sat in alcoves along the walls watching over her and the assortment of guests.  There were crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling that illuminated suits of armor and the velvet seats of chairs and couches both. 

There was an upper level and a lower level and she felt certain that whoever had booked this soiree hadn’t skimped on money.  It was, after all, the policy of the rich to make a grand impression on those less wealthy than them.  In that regard Evie felt that someone had certainly succeeded.

The suite was packed with throngs of people.  At every turn she found some new room that was populated men in tuxedos and women in evening dresses.  Some of them were so resplendent that she became a little self-conscious of the more simple dress that she had chosen to wear for the evening but tried not to show it.

Everywhere she looked, flowing through the rooms like bees on honeycombs in a bustling hive, were the assorted patrons for the evening.  Some of them she recognized easily enough as people that she knew from work, men and women both.   Some were doctors and others were nurses, orderlies, and even a few people that she knew only worked the hospital cafeteria.  It was clear then that everyone from the hospital had been “invited” to attend tonight.  Each of them was dressed in whatever it was that they considered to be their finest, but compared to the people whom they socialized with they stood out like weeds among roses.

Here we go
, she thought as she put on her best smile and began moving with the flow of people wherever the fleshy current took her.  It was going to feel like a long night, so she might as well get started on getting the unpleasantness out of the way.

Evie did what she knew was expected of her as the minutes rolled by.  She gave acknowledging nods to coworkers when they looked up to see her and gave a smile to everyone she didn’t know as they said hello to her, though few did.  She stopped by the bar and ordered a vodka martini, showing that she was embracing the hospitality of those that had thrown the party.  She ate a few of the delicacies off of the food tables, some of which she didn’t entirely recognize, and mingled where she could.

She engaged in a few small conversations when people she didn’t know bothered to speak to her.  She thanked benefactors that she recognized for their generous donations and laughed at a few jokes that weren’t funny.  She spoke and praised the people that had donated time, money, workers, resources, equipment or anything else to build the new wing of the hospital.  She did everything that someone less fortunate but in a demanding and necessary line of work should have said.

She met men and women from different fields and from across the country that worked in banking, industry, for newspapers, frontier technologies, and a dozen other disciplines that somehow found themselves associated with hospitals or at the very least worked to improve them.  She met people that got Meadow Grove new radiology equipment, new EKG machines, upgraded the defibrillators, brought in a fleet of new ambulances, replaced decade-old wheelchairs and gurneys, got the helipad on the roof upgraded, or even replaced the vending machines with the new models that took credit cards and like that.  All were things that she knew she should have been thankful for, but she wasn’t feeling an overabundance of gratitude for it.

At least not when the effort to make improvements was being flaunted around like it was.  She didn’t know much about the world of fashion but a few of the benefactors that she recognized – men and women both – were adorned in clothing that was worth more than what they had contributed to the remodeling of the hospital.  And the smiles that they wore as they posed for pictures were worth infinitely more, yet still seemed incredibly fake.

Charity should not demand recognition for one’s actions
, she thought as she sipped at her second martini. 

The laughter of guests and patrons could be heard from every room that she visited and it reminded her of an internship she’d worked during her undergrad days in a sanitarium.  To be able to hear people laughing at something that was funny only to them, or to be surrounded by people with illusions of wealth, intent, or modesty that was anything but possible certainly smacked of insanity. 

Worst were the false laughs that could only belong to women as they hoped to insinuate themselves among men who were stationed higher than themselves.  Twice tonight already she had seen men and women from work slowly disappear from one room or another in the company of someone other than a coworker… or a spouse, in some cases.  She had only seen one such pairing return and after only twenty minutes.  When she saw the woman’s unclasped bra strap almost comically dangling out of the woman’s sleeve she realized that there could be no illusions as to what had transpired. 

And being in such close proximity to such things turned her stomach.  It almost felt stifling, like she was suddenly in danger of being asphyxiated. 

“Air,” she whispered to herself.  “I need some air.”

She turned down a side hall and slipped out onto what appeared to be one the many balconies of the miniature palace.  She stuck her head out just enough to see if anyone else was about.  All she was an empty walk path that was backed by a trio of small potted evergreen trees and the feet of a couple of lounge chairs, but there was no indication that anyone else was present.  Apart from that, the balcony was mercifully empty and she was pleased to have it to herself.

She closed the glass door to the balcony behind her and leaned against it, temporarily keeping out anyone else.  She waited there a few moments before stepping to the edge of the balcony and rested her weight on the concrete edge, looking out across the city.

The hotel sat on the edge of the river and below the little pinpoints of light of the city on the far bank shined up at her.  The honks of car horns and even the indiscernible chatter of people on the street were like signs of life on a desolate island. 

A small wind rushed over her as she exhaled a deep sigh of relief.  The evening wind was warm and soothing and it felt as though she had just taken in a great deep breath of something more substantive than air.  It was like she was breathing in life itself and purging some kind of a noxious gas that she was being forced to inhale.

She closed her eyes and took several more calming breaths, purifying her lungs.  The sounds of the city below still reached her ears and even that felt relaxing to her.  The wind lightly brushed aside some of her thin tendrils of hair and she felt better just being alone and away from that gathering of people, even if only for a few minutes. 

She looked at her watch.  She’d only been pow-wowing for just under an hour.   It was only a little more than half of the time she had promised to allot herself for tonight.  She felt good about that and considered her options.  She had stayed long enough, or at least long enough to be polite and leave with etiquette on her side.  More than enough people from work had seen her so no one would be able to say that she hadn’t shown up.  She’d shaken enough hands, flashed a few smiles, and kissed enough asses to have been polite.  That was all that was really required of her.  Duty to king and country done, she pondered just calling it a night.

“You’re as displeased with the function as I am,” said a man’s voice behind her.

She yelped, startled from the sudden noise and spilled some of her martini on her hand, nearly fumbling the glass over the side of the balcony.  She turned and looked for the source of the voice. 

Sitting half-concealed in the shadows between two of the shading trees was a man half-reclined on one of the lounge chairs.  He was dressed in a gray suit that was quite contrary to the rule of tuxedos that men seemed to be all wearing tonight.  He had a tie around his neck that was unkempt, like he had loosened a noose from around his throat and several buttons on his shirt were undone, revealing a small patch of hair underneath. 

He sat Indian style on the long cushion, which she realized was why she hadn’t seen him when she first came out.  An empty glass sat in his hand from which even the ice had been drained.  And Evie’s breath caught in her throat at the mere sight of him.  He wasn’t like other men that she had seen tonight, dressed up in $10k tuxedos that they would wear only once and never again.  There was something… different… about him.  She couldn’t quite place it, but he seemed to be standing out from the rest of the men at the party the way she stood out from all of the other women.

But better
… she thought as she took in the sight of him.

It wasn’t just the way he was dressed, but the way he
looked
.  Even partially concealed she could make out enough of his looks to see that he was handsome.  He was fair skinned, his chin was pointed and his face was covered in a depleted beard that was sandy in color.  His scalp was the same color and looked as though it could have been neatly combed at one point tonight but somewhere along the way it looked as though his thick and wavy locks had succumbed to gravity, making him look a little rough around the edges.

“Excuse me?” she asked, trying to regain her composure. 

“The party,” the man said, his voice deep as a canyon yet somehow as smooth and inviting as honey.  He spoke with some kind of an accent, but one that she couldn’t quite place.  “You’re bored with it… perhaps even a little disgusted by it.”  He uncrossed his legs and sat forward, his face caught in just enough light to reveal a set of deep green eyes.  “I can tell.”

She didn’t know who this man was, but she could tell easily enough
what
he was.  A benefactor certainly, but perhaps one of the less wealthier ones if he was dressed this way and allowed his appearance to be as rugged as this. 

It suddenly dawned on her that she needed to make a good impression. 

“No… no… not at all… I… I just…”

“There’s no need to justify your feelings, miss.  Nor is there any reason you should hide them,” the gray suited man said, rising to his feet.  “I notice by your tone of voice – and more by the way you looked when you thought the balcony was empty – that you don’t care for the crowd inside or for what they represent, do you?”

Evie was silent as the man rose to his full height.  He was only slightly taller than she by an inch or so, but there was something imposing about him.  He had broad shoulders and his hands looked full of muscle as they picked up his empty glass.  On his right hand he wore a signet ring that had the mark of what looked like a roaring bear upon it. 

“Uh…” she tried to speak as he drew nearer. 

“Don’t be ashamed.  I heartily agree with you.”  He looked her over as he drew closer.  She felt herself twitching in her shoes; his presence seemed warm somehow, like she had stepped close to a furnace that was only just beginning to build its heat.  But there was something that was also patient and confident about him; like a general on a battlefield convinced that he couldn’t be beaten.  She had seen plenty of men like him before and it was plain that he came from money, but he seemed oddly detached from it. 

There was something interesting in that.

“Uh…” she echoed.

He extended his empty hand forward.  “Erik.”

She slowly extended her hand towards him and took his palm in her own.  His grip was firm, but also gentle.  There was something reassuring in the way his fingers closed around hers, but there was simultaneously something dangerous about it.  Like he was a man who could hold onto her and stab her with a knife if he so chose.  But that he didn’t do anything of the sort showed her something that she had found in short supply tonight: character.

“Erik?” she said, testing the word.  “Erik…?” she prompted.

“Let us just leave it at ‘Erik’ for tonight,” he replied with a small grin. 

There was something else that she hadn’t seen much of tonight: mystery.  She smiled back at him.  “Alright… Erik.  Then, I suppose it would only be polite for me to say that you can call me…”

“Evie,” he said, cutting her off.  His eyes almost seemed to twinkle as he spoke her name.  “Forgive me… I heard you speaking to some of the other guests.  I overheard your name.”  A little red touched his cheeks.  “I couldn’t help but notice you.”

It was her turn to blush and she pushed some of her hair up over her right ear as he freed her hand.  “Oh, um… thank you,” she said, giving him a bright smile.  She felt her cheeks flush at simply realizing that he had noticed her at all.

“So… Evie…” he said, as if he too was testing the sound of her name.  “Is that short for something?”