“A bath?” Tildy asked with surprise. “Ye do no’ need a bath.”
“I bathe once a week every week, Tildy, and wish to have one now. Just order a bath for me, please.”
“But ye’ve done naught but lay abed since ye were injured. Ye’re no’ dirty.”
Evina scowled at her. “Me hair feels dirty and limp and I should like to clean it.”
“Aye, well, ’tis a bit limp and sad-looking,” Tildy admitted, and then heaved a sigh. “Fine. I’ll order ye a bath . . . but only if Rory Buchanan says ’tis all right.”
Evina glowered at the servant’s back as she bustled out of the room. She was used to having her orders obeyed at once, not questioned and considered subordinate to someone else’s opinions. Besides, Rory Buchanan had not even seen her wound. Evina had refused Conran’s repeated efforts to get her to let his brother check the injury, instead having Tildy tend to cleaning it and changing the bandages. Now she suspected she’d have to allow him to see it to get Tildy to agree to her taking a bath. Unless he decided she shouldn’t either. In which case, Evina suspected she could shout the order until she was blue in the face and would not get her bath. And she desperately wanted one.
Tildy was wrong. She hadn’t merely been lying about. She’d been writhing and moaning and sweating up a storm here in her room as Conran showed her some of the pleasure that could be had in a marriage bed. Last night especially, between the fire and the way he heated her blood, Evina had been soaking wet when Conran had finally gathered her in his arms, laid her in her bed and covered her up before slipping from the room.
He’d done it without saying a word, and she’d been too wrung out from what he’d done to her for her to protest or say anything to him. Now she was feeling a bit unsure of herself. His leave-taking had been rather abrupt to her mind. In fact, it had seemed as if he couldn’t wait to get away from her quickly enough, and she was worrying over the reason why. Had she displeased him? Responded too eagerly to him? Should she have refused to let him kiss and touch her? Was he disgusted by her eager behavior?
The kissing and touching business had been his idea, but perhaps it had been a test to see if she would allow it again and she had failed the test. Evina didn’t want to wait until later in the morning when he usually came to see her. She wanted to see him earlier than that. She planned to try to go below to break her fast, and she wanted to be clean, and as pretty as she could be, when she did. Purely for her pride’s sake, Evina assured herself. What other reason could there be?
“Where do ye think ye’re going?”
Conran stopped walking abruptly, and blinked at his little brother when Rory suddenly stopped following Tildy and whirled to ask him that question. Frowning, he glanced ahead to where Tildy had reached the door to Evina’s bedchamber and was entering. “With you,” he answered.
“Nay.”
“Nay?” he echoed, jerking his gaze back to his brother with surprise.
“Nay,” Rory repeated firmly, glancing over his shoulder briefly at the sound of another door opening farther up the hall. When it proved to just be Aulay leaving his room, Rory turned back to add, “Ye’ll wait below.”
“The hell I will,” Conran said at once. “She is me betrothed.”
“Aye, which is why ye’ve no business being in there,” Rory said firmly. “Evina has repeatedly refused to allow me to check her wound. She’s obviously no’ comfortable with the idea, and yer presence will no’ help. Go wait below.”
Conran opened his mouth to refuse, and then grunted in surprise when Aulay caught his arm as he drew even with them, and turned him around.
“Come along, brother,” Aulay said, tugging him down the hall. “Let Rory do what he does best.”
“But she—” he began.
“Will be fine,” Aulay interrupted. “Rory is good at this. Let him tend her.”
Conran scowled, but didn’t bother arguing further. Aulay had a good hold on him and wasn’t letting go. He would wait below whether he liked it or not. Sometimes it was damned annoying having brothers, he thought with disgust.
“Well, someone does no’ look happy this morn,” Saidh said with amusement as Aulay led a still-scowling Conran to the table moments later.
“He wanted to accompany Rory to check Evina’s wound,” Aulay said calmly as he settled at the trestle tables and drew Conran down beside him.
“Oh, no, that would no’ have gone well at all,” Saidh said at once.
“Why?” Conran asked with surprise.
“Because ye’re her betrothed,” his sister said simply, as if that should explain everything.
It didn’t for him, however, and Conran scowled again. “And that is why I should be there.”
“Nay. That is why ye should no’ be there,” Jetta assured him, drawing his gaze to Aulay’s petite wife. She and his brother, Geordie, had arrived with Saidh and Greer the day before. Geordie and a retinue of soldiers had escorted Jetta to MacDonnell, and then continued on with them from there.
“But why?” Conran asked with exasperation.
“Because the wound is on her chest,” Saidh said with a shrug.
“Which is why I should be there,” he growled with exasperation. Rory shouldn’t be looking at Evina’s breast without him there.
“Conran,” Jetta said gently. “When Rory looks at a wound, all he sees is a wound, no matter where on the body it is. Howbeit, ye will look on it as Evina’s wounded body. If ye see what I mean?”
“Nay,” he said at once, “I do no’ see what ye mean.”
“She means ye’ll see Evina’s wounded breast while Rory will see a wound that just happens to be on Evina’s chest,” Saidh said shortly.
When he continued to peer at them uncomprehending, Jetta frowned and added, “Ye look at her like a man. Rory looks at her like a healer, and having the two of ye there would make her uncomfortable.”
“But why?” he repeated, really not getting what they were trying to tell him.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Con,” Saidh snapped. “Having ye leering at her breast while Rory is trying to check her wound would make her uncomfortable.”
“I would no’ leer,” he protested indignantly.
The expressions on the faces of his family members suggested no one believed that. Deciding it was a waste of time to try to argue the point, Conran scowled and simply grabbed a pastry and bit into it, trying not to imagine Rory even now unwrapping the bandages from Evina’s chest and revealing her breasts, or at least her injured breast. Her other one was not covered by the bandages and would be bare from the moment Evina lowered her tunic, which she’d have to do for Rory to remove the bandages. He was up there right now, looking at her breasts, touching the injured one, checking for—
“Ye did a fine job, brother. I’m impressed.”
Conran glanced up sharply at those words, and blinked at the sight of Rory claiming the empty space between him and Geordie on the bench. There was no hiding his surprise as he asked, “Ye’re done already?”
“Aye, well, Tildy got there ahead o’ me and helped Evina remove the wrappings and arrange a plaid around her so that I would only see the injury itself. I took a look, and ’tis healing nicely. No sign o’ infection, and yer stitching was better than me own. As fine as Mother’s when she was sewing. I think the scarring will be minimal. I told her she could have a bath, just to try no’ to get the injury itself wet, and then I gave Tildy a salve to put on it ere she replaces her bandages after her bath.” He shrugged. “It only took a couple minutes.”
“Oh.” Conran glanced toward the stairs.
“Tildy came below with me to fetch the servants with the bath,” Rory said solemnly. “She’ll no’ want to see ye while she’s bathing.”
“Right,” Conran murmured, but couldn’t help thinking he could offer to wash her back and squeeze in another lesson on the benefits of the marriage bed if he went up. He’d barely had the thought when Tildy hurried through the great hall, headed for the stairs. A passel of servants followed her, carting a big tub and pails of water, some of them steaming.
“Tildy must have ordered the water to be heated before she came to ask me to check Evina’s wound,” Rory said as they watched the parade of people head up the stairs.
“Aye. She’d been looking for ye for quite a while ere ye came below,” Conran told him, and then arched his eyebrows. “Ye slept rather late this morn.”
“Aye, well, there was a pretty blond lass who wanted me to take a look at something for her last night and I was quite late getting to bed,” Rory said with a shrug.
“Was her name Betsy?” Conran asked.
Rory stiffened in surprise. “How did ye ken?”
“Just a lucky guess,” Conran said with amusement, his gaze slipping past him to the stairs to watch for the servants’ return. It didn’t take long before the parade of servants were making their way back down the stairs. Which meant her bath was ready, and Evina was no doubt even now stripping and stepping into a steaming tub of water. It made him wonder if she was the sort to take long baths, or fast ones, and how long it would be before he could go above stairs.
“Remember, ye’re no’ supposed to get yer wound wet.”
“I’ll be careful,” Evina assured Tildy as she stepped over the edge of the tub and eased down to sit in it. A small sigh slid from her lips as the warm water closed over her and she briefly shut her eyes as her body relaxed. She’d been tense ever since Tildy had arrived to inform her that Rory Buchanan was on his way to check her wound. But it hadn’t been nearly as bad as she’d expected. Tildy had helped. Before Rory arrived, she’d quickly removed the linen covering her injured breast, and then wrapped a plaid around Evina’s shoulders that she’d held together so that just the injured side of her back and the top of her wounded breast remained visible. Rory had come in, talked softly, asking if this or that hurt as he’d inspected and prodded her injury, and then had nodded, proclaimed her well enough to bathe, gave them a couple instructions and a salve and then left the room. It had been that easy, and hadn’t taken more than a couple minutes. It made Evina feel a little foolish about refusing to let the man look at it until now.
“Here. Hold this over yer wounded breast and I’ll wash yer hair first.”
Evina blinked open eyes she’d just closed and stared at the small strip of linen the woman was holding out.
“’Tis in case some water drips down yer face to yer chest,” the maid explained. “The healer suggested it.”
Nodding, she accepted the small bit of cloth and placed it over her breast, holding it there with one hand.
“Try to lean yer head back so I can dampen yer hair.”
Evina grasped the edge of the tub with her free hand and eased forward in the water until her bent knees were squished against one end of the tub. Once she’d given herself as much room as she could, she then leaned back, holding tightly with her one hand to keep from falling onto her back in the water and submerging her upper body and the wound along with it.
“Good,” Tildy said with approval. “Tell me if ye start to tire and need a break.”
Evina merely nodded and closed her eyes as Tildy picked up a pail and tipped the water over her hair. The maid worked quickly but carefully, managing to wet and soap the long tresses without getting water or suds anywhere near her chest or even her shoulders. But as quick as the woman was, the muscles in Evina’s arm were soon trembling with strain by the time she was ready to move on to the rinsing. She wouldn’t have said anything, and would have tried to last for the rinsing too. However, Tildy noticed and insisted on a break before she moved on to rinsing. Evina accepted the decision silently. She hated to admit weakness, but there was no way to hide it when it was visible as it presently was, so she eased up into a sitting position with relief.
“Here, I’d best . . .” Tildy didn’t bother to finish the phrase; she simply wrapped a fresh linen around Evina’s soapy hair and head, explaining, “’Twill keep anything from dripping down yer chest and back now ye’re sitting up.”
“Thank ye,” Evina murmured, removing the still-dry strip of linen from her wound.
“Do ye want me to help ye with the rest o’ yer bath?” Tildy asked with concern.
“Nay. I’ll manage, and I’ll keep the wound dry,” Evina added before Tildy could give her the warning again.
The maid nodded, relaxing a little. “Well, then, I’ll strip the linens from yer bed and remake it while ye do that.”
“Thank ye,” Evina murmured again, and then turned her attention to soaping and cleaning herself as the woman bustled about the room, making up the bed with fresh linens and tidying up here and there. She finished before Tildy, but merely waited patiently until the woman completed the things she wished to do and returned to the tub.
“Shall I rinse yer hair now?”
“Aye, please.” Evina slid forward in the tub again and then eased back and tipped her head back to be rinsed.
“Here.”
She glanced down with a start as something light was laid over her injured breast. Spotting the scrap of linen she’d held there during the washing, Evina pressed one hand gently on the edge of it to keep it in place and then tightened the fingers of her other hand over the rim of the tub and closed her eyes.
Tildy was thorough but quick. It was just moments before she was wringing out Evina’s hair, and wrapping another dry linen around it.
“Oh, damn,” Tildy muttered suddenly as she helped Evina sit up in the water with the linen around her head.
“What is it?” Turning, she raised an eyebrow in question as she noted the old woman’s vexed expression.
“Well, I’ve used both the linens I brought up,” Tildy pointed out. “Now I’ve naught fer ye to dry with.”
Evina’s gaze slid to the sopping linen Tildy had wrapped around her soapy hair to keep her from getting her injury wet. It now lay a soapy wet mess in the rushes.
“There are bed linens in the chest,” Evina pointed out.
Tildy clucked with irritation. “Nay. I’ll no waste a good bed linen on this. I’ll fetch another linen for ye to dry with. Will no’ take a moment. Ye just relax there for a bit. Yer arm was shaking again by the time I finished rinsing anyway. Ye can no doubt use a break ere ye try to get up.”
Evina didn’t get a chance to agree, disagree or comment. Tildy talked all the way to and through the door, closing it on the last word.
Shaking her head with amusement, she leaned back against the cold metal, only to wince as it pressed against the entry wound in her back. It was only then it occurred to her to worry about whether that had got wet while her hair was rinsed. Evina didn’t think so, but supposed she’d find out soon enough when Tildy rewrapped her.
A soft shuffling sound caught her ear then, and she frowned, wondering if they had mice. She’d have to tell Tildy to put down some black hellebore with barley meal. Evina hated mice. She wasn’t afraid of much, but seeing one of those little creatures scampering across the floor was enough to make her squeal and leap about like an idiot. It was most embarrassing. Aye. She’d talk to Tildy about the hellebore when she returned, Evina thought, and then stilled in surprise when something pressed down on her head, pushing her down in the tub.
Her eyes popped open at once, and Evina opened her mouth on a startled cry that was silenced when soapy liquid poured into her mouth as she was forced under the water’s surface.
“Have ye heard any news from Dougall or Niels? When do ye expect them to arrive?”
Conran heard Geordie ask the question, and was truly interested in the answer. It might give him an idea as to how long he had to convince Evina that the joining itself wasn’t the nightmare she’d been led to believe by their first experience together. However, he spotted Tildy coming out of Evina’s room then, and all of his attention focused on her.
It must mean Evina was done with her bath, he thought as he watched the maid walk along the landing toward the stairs. Although the water and tub still had to be removed, Conran supposed. Tildy was probably coming down to fetch the servants back up to do just that, and then he could—
His thoughts died and he scowled when Tildy suddenly stopped halfway down the stairs and whirled back the way she’d come. The woman was shaking her head with apparent exasperation as she trudged back up the stairs. She seemed quite annoyed about something. His guess would be that she’d forgot something.
“Did ye hear that, Conny?”
“Hmm?” Conran muttered, aware of Aulay’s voice asking a question, but not really paying it any attention as he watched Tildy return to Evina’s door and open it. He completely missed whatever Aulay said next, because he was focused on Tildy. He’d seen the way the maid had seemed to blanch once she opened the door. By the time she began to shriek in horror and disappeared into the room, Conran was already on his feet and racing for the stairs.
He heard the cries of confusion and concern behind him as he ran, but Conran didn’t slow to explain. He didn’t know what the hell was happening himself, just that something was very wrong.
As fast as Conran moved, he knew his brothers were directly behind him. Because at least one of them crashed into his back when he stumbled to a halt just inside the room at the sight of Tildy trying to pull Evina’s naked and wet body from the tub. That wasn’t what brought him to a halt, however; it was the fact that Evina’s eyes were closed and she was as pale as death, her skin and lips bearing a slightly blue tinge that made his balls shrivel.
“Help me!”
That screech from Tildy did the trick, and Conran charged forward to scoop Evina out of the warm water.
“Set her on the bed,” Rory ordered, appearing beside him.
Conran obeyed automatically, carrying her still form to the bed and setting her there on her back.
“On her stomach! Turn her over, and let her head and upper chest hang off the bed.”
Conran glanced around at that barked order to peer uncertainly at the Maclean. The man hadn’t been at table, so must have come from his room, drawn by the scream as well.
“Do it!” the man barked, hobbling toward the bed.
Conran glanced to Rory, but did as the man said.
“Pound her back,” the Maclean growled, stopping beside him as Conran finished turning Evina onto her stomach on the edge of the bed so that her upper body hung off, her head dangling toward the floor.
“M’laird,” Rory began soothingly, and Conran glanced to him, awaiting his instruction. Rory was the healer. He would know what to do.
However, before Rory could finish whatever he’d intended to say, Donnan was suddenly there beside Conran, pushing on Evina’s back once, and then twice, and finally a third time, before he quickly turned her over and bent to kiss her.
“What the hell!” Conran roared, and reached for the man, but the Maclean caught his arm to stop him.
“He’s breathing for her,” he growled.
Conran turned his gaze back to Donnan and then shifted to the side to get a better look and saw the man wasn’t kissing her, so much as blowing air into her mouth while pinching her nose. His attention shifted to her chest and he saw it expand slightly with each breath, and then a choking sound drew his eyes back toward her face as Donnan straightened and Evina began sputtering and coughing.
“Damn,” Rory breathed. “I ne’er would have thought to do that.”
“Me wife did it to our son when he was a boy and fell into the loch, taking in water. She was desperate. She pushed on his back to get the water out that she could, and then she breathed into him until he could breathe for himself,” Fearghas said quietly. “It worked. Even she was surprised that it did.”
“Evina did the same for ye after she got ye out o’ the river when she knocked ye out. ’Tis how I kenned to do it. I’d ne’er seen it ere that,” Donnan announced, getting to his feet and backing away to make room as Tildy rushed forward with a plaid in hand.
“She did?” Conran asked with surprise.
“Aye. Donnan thought she was molesting ye,” Gavin announced, drawing Conran’s gaze around to see that the room was full of people. His brothers, his sister, their mates, Donnan, Gavin, Fearghas, Tildy and even Betsy were all there, he noted, and then turned back to the bed as Tildy helped Evina sit up and wrapped the plaid around her to cover her up.
“Me wound got wet,” Evina mumbled, sounding apologetic of all things.
“What happened?” Conran asked, moving closer to the bed, and just barely restraining himself from picking her up and holding her. Color had flooded her face, just emphasizing in his mind how pale she’d been when he’d first entered.
When Evina shook her head with bewilderment, Tildy said, “I was going below to fetch another linen for her to dry with. But halfway down the stairs I thought I should take the dirty tunic and bed linens down with me fer laundering to save a trip later, so turned back.”
“Aye?” Conran said impatiently. He’d seen her leave and turn back. He wanted to know what had happened to Evina.
“When I came back in, there was a man bent over the tub, holding m’lady under the bathwater,” Tildy said with a shudder that spoke of how much that sight had affected her.
“What man?” Fearghas snapped. “Where’d he go?”
Tildy turned to her laird and shook her head with bewilderment. “I do no’ ken. He just . . . disappeared,” she said almost plaintively.
“What?” Conran asked with disbelief.
Tildy nodded firmly. “Truly, he did. I screamed, and he did no’ even glance around. He just let m’lady go and ran toward the fireplace. I rushed forward to grab m’lady and try to pull her out of the tub, and then looked for him, but he was gone. Just gone. Like a ghost.”
“Did ye see who it was?” Fearghas asked grimly.
Tildy shook her head unhappily. “All I saw was his back.”
A curse from the Maclean drew Conran’s gaze just before the man barked, “Everyone out but me daughter and her betrothed.”
Conran stared at the man with surprise. He had to admit that while the Maclean had seemed thin and frail-looking from illness since his arrival, he appeared powerful and strong in that moment. Conran wasn’t at all surprised when everyone began to shuffle out the door.
“Aulay,” he said quietly, and when his eldest brother stopped and turned a questioning face his way, Conran asked, “Would ye and the boys wait in the hall, please? Ye may yet all be needed, and Rory definitely will.”
Aulay nodded, and then ushered everyone out.
Conran settled on the edge of the bed next to Evina then and wrapped his arm around her to draw her against his chest. She was trembling and shivering, so he rubbed her arm soothingly as he glanced to her father and spoke his guess aloud. “A secret passage?”
“Aye,” the Maclean growled, and hobbled over to the fireplace. Reaching up, he grasped the torch holder on the left of the fireplace and turned it on the wall until it was upside down. As he stepped back, a portion of the wall slid silently open. “From what Tildy said happened, this is the only way he could have escaped.”
Nodding, Conran eased Evina away, and stood to cross the room and join Fearghas at the entrance to the passage in the walls of the castle. Squinting into the darkness, he asked, “Who else kens this is here?”
“Evina, Gavin and meself,” he answered promptly.
“Who else?” Conran asked.
“No one,” the Maclean responded, and his expression said it all. It hadn’t been him, and Evina was the victim. That left Gavin.
“’Twas no’ Gavin.”
Conran turned toward the bed at that raspy growl from Evina. She was sitting up straight now. Her shivering and trembling had stopped. It looked as if anger had chased them right out of her, because there was no mistaking she was angry.
“How can ye even think it, Da?” she asked now, her voice painfully hoarse and getting worse each time she spoke. “Gavin would ne’er hurt me.”
“I would no’ believe it o’ him either, lass,” her father said wearily. “But there simply is no one else who kens about the passages in the walls, and how to open them.”
“Obviously, there is,” Evina countered. “Because it could no’ have been Gavin.” When her father’s expression didn’t change, she added, “Tildy said me attacker disappeared by the fireplace. But Gavin was here with the rest o’ ye when I woke up.”
“He could have slipped into the adjoining bedchamber through the entrance there, and joined everyone in here,” her father pointed out solemnly.
“Aye, mayhap he could have. But he’d no’ do that to me,” Evina argued with frustration.
Cursing, Conran turned and moved to the door.
“What are ye doing?” Fearghas barked before he could open it.
“I need a torch to search the passage,” he said quietly.
The Maclean frowned and then said, “We’ll need help searching it. It splits into two different paths and neither o’ them should be searched alone.” He paused briefly, a battle warring on his face, and then the Maclean sighed and said, “Aulay and Rory seem trustworthy.”
“Everyone in me family is trustworthy,” Conran assured him. “Even Greer. But I can do with Aulay and Rory.”
When the Maclean nodded, he opened the door and then stopped as his gaze slid over the group in the hall. While he’d asked his brothers to wait upstairs, he’d expected the others to go below. None of them had. In fact, their numbers seemed to have grown with servants and soldiers filling their ranks.
Smiling apologetically, Conran said, “Aulay and Rory, I need ye in the room. Geordie, I need ye to stay up here and make sure no one leaves or enters through this door, please.”
“I can help search the secret passages,” Saidh said at once, stepping forward.
Conran glanced at her with surprise. “How did ye—?”
“Oh, please, brother,” she said with disgust. “Have ye yet been in a castle that does no’ have them? I think it must be a royal decree: ‘When building a castle, loyal subjects will be sure to install a secret passage.’”
“We men can search the passage while Saidh and Jetta sit with Evina,” was Greer’s counteroffer.
Saidh turned a scowl of irritation on her husband. “Rory is the healer. He should sit with Evina. I want to help search the tunnels.”
“No’ in yer condition,” Greer growled.
“Why must ye act like being with child is the same as being crippled?” Saidh asked with frustration.
“Because I love ye,” Greer snapped.
“I think ye should take this argument below stairs. Or mayhap to yer room,” Conran added dryly as he noted the way Greer’s declaration had made his sister soften and sway toward him. Turning to his brothers then, he added, “The Maclean requested Aulay and Rory and ’tis his castle. So, if the two o’ ye are willing?”
Nodding, Aulay bent to press a kiss to Jetta’s forehead and murmured something in her ear. He then followed Rory to stand next to him.
“Jetta, if I carry Evina to yer room, would ye be good enough to sit with her until we are done?” Conran asked now.
“O’ course,” she said at once, straightening as if she’d been knighted.
“And Greer and I will guard them,” Saidh put in sweetly.
Conran smiled wryly at Greer’s annoyed expression, but merely nodded and said, “I’ll bring her out.”
He didn’t wait for a response, but hurried back into the bedchamber, aware that Aulay and Rory were following.
“How many kenned about the passage ere this?” Aulay asked once he’d closed the bedroom door behind them.
Conran glanced over as his brothers walked to the open entrance to the passage and peered into the darkness. “Three.”
“Three,” Fearghas agreed.
Evina said, “We do no’ ken.”
Aulay turned back to raise his eyebrows.
“Evina and Gavin are the only ones I told about it, and I was the only one still alive who kenned about it ere that,” Fearghas growled.
“But since ’twas neither Da nor Gavin who attacked me, someone else obviously kens about it that we’re no’ aware of,” Evina put in determinedly.
Conran noted the frown beginning to pull at Aulay’s face, and then a thought struck him and he turned away from the bed, and strode back to the door to the hall. He paused briefly after opening it, startled to find that not only was everyone still there in the hall, but the group had grown again with more soldiers and servants and even Cook having joined the ranks. It spoke well of Evina that they were all so obviously concerned about their lady, Conran thought as he searched the group for Tildy. Spotting the woman pacing at the back of the group, with worry on her face, he slipped into the hall and maneuvered his way through the crowd to approach her.
“Oh, Lord Buchanan.” She met his gaze anxiously as he stopped before her. “Is m’lady all right?”
“Aye,” Conran assured her. “She is fine. I just wanted to ask ye, did ye recognize the man trying to drown yer lady?”
“Nay,” she said at once.
“So, he was no one ye ken?” he asked with relief.
Tildy shook her head, and then frowned and added, “Well . . . he maybe did look a bit familiar. But I did no’ get a good look. His back was to me.”
“How was he familiar, then?” Conran asked, and when she frowned, he suggested, “Describe him to me.”
“Well, he was big, but no’ big like Donnan, big like Gavin,” she explained, and then added, “And he had long dark hair like Gavin, and . . .” She shook her head. “I really did no’ get a good look at him.”
“Could it have been Gavin?” Conran asked quietly.
“Oy!” Gavin said with shock, moving through the crowd to stand next to them, but Conran ignored him, his attention on Tildy. The maid had flinched away from the suggestion as if he’d struck her in the face.
“Oh, nay!” she cried with dismay. “He’d ne’er hurt m’lady. Why, she’s like a mother and sister all rolled into one to him.”
“Aye, she is,” Gavin said grimly. “I’d sooner die than hurt Evina. She and me uncle are me only family. They took me in as a boy and raised me. How could ye think I’d hurt her?”
“Because you, the Maclean and Evina are the only ones who kenned about the passage,” Conran said unapologetically.
Gavin frowned, but before he could respond, Tildy said stoutly, “Well, someone else must ken about them, then, because I am positive ’twas no’ Gavin.”
Conran turned back to scowl at her. “Ye can’t be positive. Ye just said he was the same size and had the same hair as Gavin and ye didn’t see his face.”
“Aye, but the man’s hair was greasy and matted and his clothes filthy and ratty,” Tildy argued, and shook her head. “’Twas no’ Gavin.”
Conran didn’t argue the point further. Gavin didn’t have matted hair, and his plaid and shirt were clean. The attacker hadn’t been Gavin.
“Ye didn’t truly believe I’d hurt Evina, did ye, Uncle Fearghas?” Gavin asked now, and Conran swung around to see that not only the Maclean, but Aulay and Rory too, had followed him out into the hall.
“I’m sorry, lad,” the Maclean said now with true regret. “I should have known it couldn’t be you. But as far as I ken, you, me and Evina are all that kenned about the passages. I couldn’t think who else it could be. I still can’t. No one else should ken about them.”
Gavin relaxed a bit, but assured him, “I told no one about them.”
The Maclean grimaced, but nodded and glanced to Conran to say, “We can sort out how the bastard kenned about the passages after we catch him.”
“Aye. We’d best go find him, then,” Conran said grimly, and grabbed the lit torch in the holder on the wall next to him.
Nodding, the Maclean turned to head back into Evina’s room. Rory and Aulay followed, but Aulay grabbed the torch from the other side of the door as he did.
Conran was halfway across the room to the passage entrance when he spotted Evina. She’d wrapped the plaid around herself like a toga, and was out of bed, dragging a gown out of the chest at the foot of her bed. The stubborn woman was still healing from a chest wound, and had nearly been drowned, but he had no doubt she’d intended to dress herself and join them in the hall to defend her cousin.
Conran didn’t know whether to shake her for putting someone else’s well-being ahead of her own, or kiss her for being a woman who was strong and loyal and didn’t hesitate to protect the people she loved. He suspected it was a quandary he’d experience often in the years ahead.
Shaking his head, Conran started toward her, and then paused and peered down at the torch he held.
“I’ll hold it for ye,” Rory said quietly, taking the torch from him.
“Thank ye,” he murmured, and then hurried to Evina and scooped her up.
Caught by surprise, she squawked in alarm and dropped the gown she’d just pulled out of the chest. She also formed a fist and pulled her hand back, ready to plow him one, but stopped when she saw it was him.
“Oh,” she said on a sigh, and then scowled at him. “What happened? Ye did no’ accuse Gavin of trying to drown me and have him shackled up in the dungeon, did ye?”
“Nay. I asked Tildy what she saw,” he explained as he turned to carry her to the door.
“And?” she asked abruptly.
“And ye were right. ’Twas no’ Gavin,” he admitted. “Jetta is going to sit with ye, and Saidh and Greer are going to guard ye while we search the passage.”
“Who is Jetta?” Evina asked with bewilderment as Rory opened the door for them. The question made Conran realize she hadn’t yet been introduced to his sister-in-law, or probably even told she was here.
“I am Jetta,” Aulay’s wife announced, moving to the front of the group waiting in the hall and smiling at her.
“Evina, this is Aulay’s wife, Jetta,” he introduced her. “She arrived yesterday with Saidh and Greer and me brother, Geordie.”
“Oh.” Evina managed a smile and nodded at the woman, offering a polite, “’Tis a pleasure to meet ye.”
Before Jetta could respond, Greer stepped up and said, “I’ll take her. I ken ye want to get to yer search.”
Conran almost refused the offer and carried Evina down the hall himself, but aware that Aulay, Rory and Fearghas were waiting, he reluctantly handed her over, muttering, “We’ll be quick as we can.”
Nodding, Greer started off down the hall with Saidh and Jetta following and Tildy close on their heels.
“Do ye want me to help Greer guard Evina? Or stay here and guard the door with Geordie?” Alick asked, drawing his attention away from the small group.
“Go with Greer, please, Alick,” Conran said without hesitation. With so many people here, Geordie didn’t need any extra help watching the door. Mostly his job would be to keep anyone from entering the room and seeing where the passage entrance was.
“Will do,” Alick said, and hurried after the small group. Conran offered Geordie a nod then, and reentered the bedchamber.
Closing the door, he took the torch Rory was holding for him and led the way across the room. Pausing at the open entrance, Conran stepped just inside and held his torch up to look around. It was extremely narrow and the darkness seemed to devour the light. He couldn’t see far at all before the light was crowded out. “Where does the passage go?”
“It leads along the wall on this side of the castle all the way to the tower, and then it splits,” the Maclean growled, managing to stay on his heels despite his hobbling. “One path turns sharply with the wall and becomes stairs leading down to a passage on the ground floor that exits by the apple grove behind the kitchens. The other leads to stairs that curve with the tower and lead down to a tunnel under it that travels away from the castle to a—Damn!”
Conran glanced around in surprise to see that the Maclean had moved away from him and was now hobbling back across the room.
When Aulay raised his eyebrows in question, Conran merely shook his head and followed the old man. He wasn’t terribly surprised to find the hall still full of servants and soldiers milling about when the Maclean opened the door, so stopped behind him to block any view into the room. They all knew about the passage now, he was sure, but they didn’t need to know where it was in the room.
“Donnan,” Fearghas Maclean barked, and the soldier moved to the front of the crowd at once. “Take twenty men and go search the valley two miles west o’ the loch. Nay, take thirty men. Collect anyone ye find there and bring him back,” the Maclean added grimly.
The man nodded and rushed toward the stairs at once, tagging several soldiers he passed on the way and taking them with him.
“Gavin!” the Maclean snapped when the lad started to follow. “Donnan can find someone to replace ye. I need ye to take the same number o’ men and go around behind the kitchens.” He paused briefly and then added, “Ye ken where.”
Gavin nodded, and followed the same path Donnan had, calling out to several of the remaining soldiers to accompany him. Despite that, the hallway was still crowded with people. It looked to Conran like more servants and soldiers had made their way above stairs each time they’d opened the door.
“Let’s go,” the Maclean said grimly, turning back to him.
Nodding, Conran stepped aside to let him enter and then closed the door on the curious eyes trying to see into the room and turned to lead the man back to the passage entrance.
“Right,” Conran said as he plunged into the dark passage, thrusting his torch out ahead. “Aulay and Rory can take the path that leads behind the castle when we get to the split, and ye and I can take the path away from the castle,” he suggested, and then recalled that the man was still recovering from an injured arse and said, “Or mayhap ye and Rory should take the path around behind the castle if ’tis shorter.”
“I can manage the path away from the castle,” the Maclean assured him, his voice harsh. “The bastard tried to kill me daughter. I’m no’ letting him get away with that.”
“Nay,” Conran agreed grimly.
It was Rory who asked, “What if he’s already out of the passages and tunnel?”
“If he took the passage around behind the castle he’ll stand out like a sore thumb among me people and be captured at once,” the Maclean said firmly. “But if he took the tunnel that leads out beyond the wall, the men will beat him. ’Tis a very long tunnel and the men will be on horseback. Even if he ran flat-out the whole way, they’d beat him there.”
Conran didn’t comment, he merely nodded, counting on it being visible in the torchlight. But he was silently hoping the man was still in the passages somewhere. He’d like to get his hands on the bastard himself.