“Well?”
Conran glanced up at that barked question from the Maclean as he led his brothers and Donnan to the stairs of the keep. He spotted Evina’s father halfway up the steps, but before he could respond to the man’s question, a soldier shouted Donnan’s name. Conran glanced around just in time to see the big man break off from the group to head back across the bailey. He watched him head for the gates and then turned back to the old man he was approaching. Noting his questioning expression, Conran shook his head wearily and said, “We coordinated with Donnan and the soldiers and searched every square inch within the walls. We also questioned everyone we encountered and—” his mouth tightened with frustration “—nothing.” Pausing on the steps next to the Maclean, he asked, “Did ye have yer men search the keep?”
“Aye.” Fearghas sighed the word, as weary and disappointed as him. Conran wasn’t surprised when he said, “And they found nothing either.”
Nodding, Conran continued up the stairs, saying, “Then he must have a hidey-hole somewhere here. We’ll have to keep Evina guarded and come up with a trap to catch the bastard.”
“Aye,” the Maclean muttered, hobbling up the steps on his heels.
Conran had just reached the door to the keep when he heard shouting from the gate. Pausing, he turned to peer back to see what the ruckus was. His eyebrows rose when he saw that the gates were opening and the drawbridge being lowered. He’d ordered the gates closed and drawbridge drawn up when they’d started the search. He hadn’t wanted the confusion of people coming and going while they were conducting their search, and he’d forgotten to tell the men they could open both again. They were doing so now though, and he could see Donnan striding back across the bailey from that direction. Obviously, the men on the gate were who had called out to him, and Donnan had given them permission to open Maclean again to the outside world.
“Ah,” Aulay said as a good-sized retinue of riders rode into the bailey bearing the Drummond flag. “Niels is here.”
When the Maclean turned to him, a question in his eyes, Conran nodded firmly. “Send someone to fetch yer priest, m’laird, and we’ll hold the wedding. We might yet succeed at something today at least.”
Conran turned to grab the door handle again and added, “I’d best let Evina ken,” as he pulled the door open and rushed inside.
He expected her to still be up in her room, so had automatically headed to the stairs, but was only halfway to them when a burst of female laughter caught his ear. It was full, honest and uninhibited rather than the more subdued feminine chuckles most ladies allowed themselves. There were only two women Conran knew who laughed like that: Saidh and Evina. But Evina’s voice was a touch huskier than Saidh’s, and that was whose laughter he’d heard. Turning toward the table, he spotted her at once. All the women were there, enjoying a beverage and a laugh, but Evina sat with Saidh on one side of her, and her cousin Gavin on the other. Geordie and Alick stood behind her, chuckling too at whatever had amused everyone so, but their gazes were shifting around the great hall, aware and alert.
Conran paused a moment just to peer at Evina and enjoy the knowledge that she would soon be his wife—very soon. The idea was oddly startling. He’d known it was coming, had been working toward it and had gained her agreement just last night, yet some part of him must have doubted it would ever really come to pass, because he presently found himself almost staggered by the realization that it would indeed happen now that Niels had arrived. He would marry Evina, be her husband, claim her to wife. He would spend the rest of his life with this woman—making love, running Maclean with her, arguing, making up, having children and hopefully even, one day, grandchildren with Evina Maclean MacPherson, soon to be Buchanan.
And she’d agreed to it.
He stared at her silently as she laughed again and an odd ache began in his chest.
“Heartburn?”
Lowering the hand he’d been unconsciously rubbing his chest with, Conran glanced around at that question and smiled wryly when he saw that Donnan had entered the keep and joined him. “The others stayed to greet Niels and Edith, I presume?”
Donnan nodded solemnly. “They should be in shortly.”
Nodding, Conran glanced back to Evina as another burst of laughter filled the air.
“The Maclean hailed one of the lads and sent him to fetch the priest back to hold the ceremony just ere I entered,” Donnan announced as they watched the people at the table.
“Then I’d best warn her that Niels and Edith are here and the wedding will be held directly,” Conran murmured, but didn’t move. Instead, he stared at Evina’s laughing face and felt the ache in his chest begin again.
“Heartburn?” Donnan repeated, drawing his attention to the fact that he was rubbing his chest once more.
“Aye, heartburn,” he muttered, letting his hand drop, but knew that wasn’t his ailment. Somehow, he’d fallen in love with the wench. That was the only explanation for the panic he’d felt when he hadn’t found her at the table earlier, and had realized she was out and about with a killer after her. Never mind the way his heart had stopped when he’d seen the arrow narrowly miss her and hit the lad behind her. He’d wanted to cut his chest open and take her inside himself to keep her safe. And every time he looked at her, he was filled with longing and an ache that he knew would probably never go away. He loved the stubborn, reckless, beautiful woman, and nothing in his life had scared him more than that realization. It made him vulnerable. If he didn’t catch the man targeting Evina and the bastard succeeded in killing her . . . Conran didn’t think he could bear that. They had to catch him, he thought as he started for the head table and the women seated there.
“He didn’t?” Evina gasped the words with disbelief as he approached, stirring his curiosity.
“Aye. He did,” Saidh assured her, and then suddenly glanced around as if she’d noticed his approach out of the corner of her eye. Smiling when she saw him, she said, “And here he is now.”
Evina turned then, and saw him as well. He watched the smile of greeting that bloomed on her face and marveled again that she would soon be his wife. It made Conran wonder how he had got so damned lucky, and then he smiled wryly as the answer popped up in his mind that it had been purely by accident. Evina had set out to fetch Rory Buchanan, a Highlander known for his healing, and ended up kidnapping and dragging him home instead. It made him the luckiest bastard in Scotland, if not the world.
“Yer mood seems much improved,” Conran commented as he paused behind and to the side of her.
“Aye,” she said, her smile sobering a touch. “Well, ’twas a relief to learn Cormag will be well, and to see him up and about.”
“Oh?” He glanced around. “Where is he?”
“He had a drink with us and then went to lie down,” she explained. “While he sustained only a flesh wound, it doesn’t make it pain less and that can take a lot out o’ ye too,” she pointed out.
“Aye,” Conran agreed, his gaze settling on her again. He stared at her for one moment, and then announced abruptly, “Niels and Edith have arrived.”
“Oh!” Saidh beamed at the news and turned to Evina. “Edith is a dear. Ye shall like her too.”
The other women agreed enthusiastically with her words, and then Saidh added, “And this means we can have the wedding tonight.”
“’Twill be sooner than tonight,” Conran assured them. “The priest is being fetched as we speak.”
“What?” Evina looked alarmed at this news. “But—”
“Nonsense,” Saidh said, interrupting her, and then patting Evina’s hand, she added, “It can no’ possibly be held until we’ve bathed and readied Evina. And ye must bathe too.”
“Bathe?” he echoed with surprise. “There is no need for us to bathe. We—”
“O’ course ye must bathe,” Saidh said firmly. “’Tis yer wedding day. Ye should both be bathed and pampered and made pretty for the bedding ceremony. We could probably manage all that just ere the sup if we get started quickly,” she said firmly, and then glanced around. “Where did yer lovely Tildy get to, Evi? We should have her order the water to be prepared fer ye both.”
“We only have the one tub,” Evina said with a frown.
“Nay,” Gavin corrected her. “There are two tubs. One is kept for the servants to use in the kitchen as they wish, but we could cart both up for the two o’ ye to use.”
“To use where?” Evina asked with a frown. “I can have mine in me chamber, but Conran gave up his room to Dougall and Murine.”
“He can bathe in yer father’s room,” Tildy suggested, appearing next to Conran. He had no idea where she’d come from, but she’d obviously heard at least part of the conversation.
“Aye,” Evina breathed, relaxing. “Father’ll no’ mind.”
“Hopefully, he’ll no’ mind joining Gavin and the others in the barracks to sleep this night too,” Tildy said now with a frown. “Otherwise I’ve no idea where I’ll put Laird and Lady Drummond.”
“Oh.” Evina smiled suddenly at Saidh, and then turned to the maid and said, “There’s no need to put Da out like that, Tildy. Edith and Niels may have me room.”
“What?” Conran gasped with shock. “Where are we to sleep, then?”
“Aye,” Tildy said with some concern of her own. “If they’re in yer room, where will ye and Lord Conran spend yer first night as husband and wife?”
“Ne’er fear,” Evina said, smiling mysteriously. “The ladies and I have come up with a plan.”
“Aye, they have,” Alick told him, and then warned, “They got to thinking while the rest o’ ye were busy with yer hunt.”
“What is this plan?” Conran asked with concern, but before anyone could answer, the keep doors opened and the women all jumped up squealing and rushed away to greet Edith as she entered. Conran stared after them, narrow-eyed, knowing that while they were happy to see Edith, they were also taking advantage of her arrival to avoid answering his question. At least Evina was. She didn’t even know the women but was rushing away from the table too, at least as fast as she could rush. Scowling, Conran turned to his brothers and ordered, “Tell me.”
“There.” Tildy finished fiddling with her hair and stepped back to survey her handiwork with a smile that turned into a frown as her gaze dropped over the gown Evina was wearing. Shaking her head, she sighed with regret. “I’m so sorry, m’lady. We kenned this was coming and should have made ye a fine new gown for the occasion. Most o’ yers are frayed and old, and this is the best o’ the lot left that does no’ have an arrow hole in it, or is filthy from rolling in the dirt today.”
Evina glanced down at the pale yellow gown she wore, and plucked at the frayed cloth a bit fretfully. She’d never been much concerned with what she wore. So long as it covered her decently, ’twas good enough to her mind. Until now. She would have liked a beautiful gown to marry in. Something that would have made Conran proud to claim her to wife. Forcing a smile, she shrugged. “Well, if this is the best o’ the lot, then ’twill have to do. ’Tis fine,” she added the lie bravely. “I’m sure Conran’ll no’ even notice what I’m wearing.”
Tildy was peering at her pityingly for the obvious lie when a knock sounded at the door. It opened without the caller waiting to be invited.
Evina watched wide-eyed as Saidh, Murine, Edith, Jo and Jetta rushed in in an excited cluster, all of them chattering at once.
“’Tis done!” Saidh announced triumphantly as Geordie pulled the door closed behind them.
“Aye, and ’tis beautiful,” Jo told her happily.
“It is,” Murine assured her. “I did no’ think it could be, but it truly is.”
“Aye,” Jetta agreed with a grin. “We pilfered furs and pillows and bolsters from every room in the keep, and filled it with candles and torches, and even a table fer the two o’ ye to sit at.”
“And the chests, o’ course,” Edith said meaningfully.
“It sounds wonderful,” Evina said, her face relaxing into a true smile. “I can no’ wait to see it.”
“Ye’ll be pleased,” Saidh assured her, and then added solemnly, “Now we just have to hope the trap works.”
Silence fell briefly in the room as the women all nodded solemnly, and then Murine moved forward, her smile returning. “Ye look lovely, Evina. Tildy, ye’ve done wonders with her hair.”
“Aye,” Edith agreed, moving closer as well to get a look at the braid Tildy had woven around her head and set flowers in. “She looks like a fairy princess with the flowers woven through her braid like that.”
Tildy beamed at the compliments, until the women turned their attention to Evina’s gown. Sighing then, she said, “I should have made something special for the day, but with all the company, I didn’t think on it and this is the only gown that is clean and without holes or terribly frayed to an indecent degree. I fear m’lady has ne’er troubled herself over much about such things as fashion.”
“’Tis fine,” Evina repeated, forcing another smile. “Tildy did such wonders with me hair, no one will even notice me gown.”
“Hmm.” Jo moved up to stand beside her and glanced from Evina to herself and then asked the others, “She is about my size, is she no’?”
“Aye, she is,” Murine said, a smile beginning to curve her lips. “Pray, tell us ye have something she might wear for the wedding.”
“I believe I do,” Jo said with a nod, and headed for the door. “I shall be right back.”
“Whatever she brings back’ll be wondrous,” Murine promised with a grin as the door closed behind Jo.
“Whether it is or no’, ’tis kind o’ her to trouble herself so,” Evina said quietly. “She seems a very nice woman. ’Tis hard to believe she’s English.”
“Only half-English,” Saidh corrected her firmly. “Her father was a Scot. Most like that’s why she ended up kind and good. By all accounts her mother was a right English bitch.”
“Saidh!” Jetta said with dismay. “Ye might hurt Jo’s feelings did she hear ye say that.”
“But she did no’ hear, did she?” Saidh said with a shrug, and then added, “Besides, she’d tell ye that herself. She’s no love for her birth mother. Ne’er even kenned her and was as horrified as everyone else to hear how the woman had tried to kill her own sister, Lady Mackay.”
“Wait,” Evina said with a frown. “Jo’s mother tried to kill her own sister?”
“Aye,” Edith said, but glanced toward the door when it opened again and fell silent as Jo entered with a royal blue gown across her arms.
“I’ll tell ye the story another time,” Saidh murmured as they watched the other woman approach, and then added, “If she does no’ tell ye herself.”
Evina merely nodded and greedily eyed the gown Jo was holding. It was beautiful. Much nicer than the gown she presently wore. Eyeing the bits of detailing she could see, she began to pray it would fit.
“Well, let’s get this gown off ye so ye can try that one,” Tildy said, all business. The other women immediately gathered around to help and, within moments, Evina’s prayers were answered and she was wearing the blue gown. It fit like a glove. She peered down at herself as the women stepped back and could have wept. Evina had no idea how it looked on her, but it was stunning to look down at, and she felt pretty in it.
“It’s perfect,” Murine whispered.
Evina glanced up hopefully at the words and saw admiration on the expressions of the other women.
“Aye. ’Tis perfect on you,” Jo said solemnly. “It is new. I’ve ne’er worn it and now I ne’er could. ’Twould ne’er look that good on me. I think ye must keep it.”
“Oh!” Evina’s eyes widened with shock. “Nay. I could no’ keep it.”
“Aye, ye can,” Jo assured her. “Consider it a wedding gift.”
Evina opened her mouth, and then closed it again and, embarrassed to feel her eyes glaze with tears at the kindness, peered down at the beautiful gown again. “Thank ye,” she managed after a moment, and stiffened slightly when Jo suddenly stepped forward to embrace her.
“’Tis my pleasure,” Jo assured her, hugging her tightly. “And ye look ravishing in it.”
After a hesitation, Evina slid her own arms cautiously about the woman and hugged her back. But she felt strange doing it. No one but Conran had hugged her since her mother’s death, and this was different than the hugs Conran had given her so far. His hugs had been during or after fornicating, and to comfort her after she’d nearly been drowned. This was a hug of pure affection. She was unused to the feelings it brought welling up within her, but suspected she’d best get used to it when the other women all crowded around to hug the pair of them.
“Oh!” Murine gasped suddenly, pulling back from the group hug. “We’ll wrinkle her gown!”
Evina suddenly found herself released as the women all backed away to examine her and be sure they hadn’t done the gown damage.
“’Tis fine,” Edith said with relief, and then smiled wryly. “But I’d best go clean up and prepare meself fer the wedding too. Me gown is dusty from the journey and I’ll look the poor cousin next to Evina do I no’ change.”
“Ye can change in the chamber Dougall and I are using while here,” Murine offered.
“Wait,” Evina protested. “She is to stay in me chamber anyway. I’ll leave and let her change here.”
“Ye can’t,” Saidh said at once. “Conran might see ye. Ye have to wait here until he is at the chapel steps and then yer father will come fetch ye to take ye to the steps to meet him before the priest.”
“Oh,” Evina said nonplussed. She’d had no idea there were rules about this kind of thing.
“’Tis fine,” Edith assured her with a smile. “I’ll use Murine and Dougall’s room. Me chests are out in the hall still at the moment anyway.”
“We should all get moving,” Jetta said now. “We’re all supposed to be waiting at the chapel when she comes, and I need to change as well. I got a might sweaty and dusty working on the tent.”
“So did I,” Saidh admitted, brushing at the dust on her skirts with irritation. “I guess I’d best change too.”
Murmuring agreement, the other women all began to move. They left the room in almost the same cluster as they’d entered, taking all the noise and laughter with them. Evina stood in the center of the room and watched them go, feeling a little lost and alone.
Rustling drew her attention to Tildy then, and she turned to see that she was dragging the furs off the bed. Taking a steadying breath, she forced a smile and said, “There’s no need to do that now, Tildy.”
“Aye. There is,” she responded at once, and pointed out, “I have to prepare the room fer Laird and Lady Drummond to use this night.”
“Oh, aye,” Evina murmured, and moved to the bed to help when the maid started to strip linens from the bed.
“Ger off with ye,” Tildy said at once. “Ye’ll wrinkle yer gown or muss yer hair. Just go settle yerself at the table and wait.”
Evina frowned, but did as she was told and moved to sit cautiously at the table by the fire. But she felt less than useless just sitting there watching the maid work.
“They’re a nice lot o’ women,” Tildy commented solemnly, carrying the dirty linens to the door and dropping them in a heap next to it.
“Aye,” Evina agreed as she watched her collect clean linens from one of the chests and start to remake the bed.
“And they’ve already accepted ye as one o’ their own,” Tildy added as she worked. “’Twill be nice fer ye to have female family again.”
Evina’s eyes widened slightly at the comment and then she frowned as she tried to sort out the tone in Tildy’s voice. It wasn’t resentful, so much as regretful, which she didn’t understand. The old woman was obviously upset somehow, but since she didn’t know why or what about, she wasn’t sure how to comfort her. Evina stood, and moved toward the bed, trying to get a better look at the woman’s face, but suspected Tildy was deliberately keeping it turned away from her. In the end, she simply went with her last words and said, “Ye’re female and family, Tildy.”
“Nay, lass,” Tildy said, that quiet regret deepening in her voice, and then she straightened and met her gaze as she admitted, “I’ve always thought o’ meself as family to ye, and I’ve been with ye yer whole life, it’s true, but as I watched them all embrace ye just now, I realized I ne’er once offered ye that kind o’ comfort meself. No even the day yer mother died, and ye were just a wee lass, sobbing fit to burst.”
Evina turned slowly as she watched her move about the room straightening this and dusting down that. She was remembering the day in question, and what Tildy said was true. And it wasn’t. Clearing her throat, she pointed out, “That’s as may be, Tildy, but as I recall, ye mopped up me tears when I finished weeping, set me in the wagon and sat beside me fer the rest o’ the journey home, offering me silent comfort.”
When Tildy merely frowned slightly at the words and continued puttering around gathering the yellow gown she’d originally planned to wear, and her dirty tunic, Evina added, “And ye were always there to tend me injuries and wounds when I fell or hurt meself too . . . and to nag at me to eat before I ran off to order the men about, or give me the stink-eye when I was misbehaving. Ye are family, Tildy,” she assured her gently. “Hugging is just no’ yer way.”
“Aye, well . . .” Tildy shifted, looking uncomfortable, and then shook her head. “But I should ha’e made it me way. Ye were just a child, lass, and I let ye down as badly as yer father did. He left ye to fend fer yerself tending to Gavin and running the keep, and I did no’ give ye the affection every child needs. Between the two o’ us, ’tis no wonder ye did no’ want to marry and depend on someone else who might let ye down, and I’m sorry fer that,” she said with agitation.
Evina shook her head at once. “That is no’ why I didn’t want to marry. I didn’t wish to risk a husband like the MacPherson brat, or one who might beat me like Uncle Garrick did Aunt Glenna.”
“Oh, lass,” Tildy said, straightening to eye her with exasperation. “Ye can tell yer da that to spare his feelings do ye wish it, and ye can even tell yerself that so ye needn’t think on it, but ye can no’ fool me. Were a man foolish enough to hit ye, ye’d hit him right back, and no doubt knock him on his sorry arse. I’ve seen ye do it often enough to the soldiers when they were in their cups and got lippy,” she pointed out. “I suspect that’s half the reason ye trained so hard in battle with Donnan.”
“I—” Evina shook her head weakly.
“And if any man who married ye was stupid enough to try to beat ye, it’d be the last beating he gave anyone. Once ye healed, ye’d no doubt sew him up in his bed linens, beat him to within an inch o’ his life and dump him in the woods to live or die as God saw fit to have it, and then ye’d lock up the gates and refuse to let him back in if he did survive. Nay,” she added firmly. “Ye’re no’ afraid o’ a man hurting ye physically. I’d wager me life on it. ’Tis their letting ye down that ye’re afraid o’. Ye can build yer muscle and skill all ye like, but it’ll no’ stop yer heart being broken when a man abandons ye to fend fer yerself like yer da did when yer mother died.”
Sighing, she peered at her solemnly for a moment, and then added, “Thank God the Buchanan came and rescued ye from us, is all I can say. He’ll ne’er let ye down like we did. From what I’ve overheard, he’s all about family and responsibility. Forever helping one or the other of them brothers and brother-by-marriage with something. Rory with his healing, Dougall with his horses, Niels with his sheep.” Nodding firmly, she added, “And if he gets injured, or—Lord help us—dies, his brothers and sister will step in to help and there’s no doubt in me mind on that,” she said firmly. “They’re all about family, those Buchanans. They’ll no’ just show up fer any battle Maclean might face, they’ll show up fer everything. Births. Deaths. Weddings. Holidays. Celebrations, and hell, just to visit. Which reminds me,” Tildy said suddenly with a frown. “We need to add more bedchambers to accommodate them all.”
She didn’t wait for a response, but headed for the door, muttering, “I’m done here. Why do ye no’ rest a bit while ye wait? I’ll go see how long ’twill be ere yer father comes to fetch ye.”
Tildy dropped the dirty clothes she’d collected onto the pile of dirty linens, opened the bedchamber door and then gathered up the whole heap to carry them out of the room.
Geordie was again the one to pull the door closed. He reached in to grab the handle, and then stilled, his eyes widening slightly when he spotted her standing there in the center of the room. He stared at her wide-eyed for a moment, and then smiled and told her, “The day ye mistook Conran fer Rory was the luckiest day o’ his life, m’lady. Ye’re absolutely stunning.”
“What?” Alick asked from the hall, and then the younger brother appeared beside Geordie and looked into the room. She saw his eyes widen and heard his awed, “Gor!” as Geordie pulled the door closed.
Evina stayed right where she was even after the door closed. She couldn’t have moved if she’d wanted to. Tildy’s little speech had left her shocked and frozen as the words replayed in her head.
“Ye’re no’ afraid o’ a man hurting ye physically. I’d wager me life on it. ’Tis their letting ye down that ye’re afraid o’. Ye can build yer muscle and skill all ye like, but it’ll no’ stop yer heart being broken when a man abandons ye to fend fer yerself like yer da did when yer mother died.”
Evina sank weakly to sit on the side of the bed.
Was that really why she’d avoided marriage? Evina wanted to deny it, but everything Tildy had said was true. She would punch any man foolish enough to hit her. And were he enough of an idiot to perform the supremely stupid act of beating her, he’d best hope he beat her to death the first time, because he’d not get a second opportunity to do it.
“Dear God,” Evina breathed, rubbing her hands over her face. She’d been lying to herself for years. Why the devil would she lie to herself?
The answer was easy. As Tildy had said, so she wouldn’t have to think on it. She wouldn’t have to face the fact that her father hadn’t cared enough about her to be there for her. To continue to live. To run Maclean and be the father she’d needed. In a way, he’d died that day at the river as surely as her mother, her husband and Lachlan had. Evina had been as good as an orphan, left to raise herself. Her father was the man she’d most depended on, and he’d let her down. After her mother’s death, he had not been there for her. He’d not been there for anyone. Maclean would have gone to rot and ruin if she hadn’t stepped up and done her best to keep it running. As for Gavin, despite Aunt Glenna’s hopes, her father hadn’t been there for him either. and Evina had been left the chore of raising her cousin as well.
Evina knew she’d done a terrible job of both tasks at first. Fortunately, Donnan, Tildy and the other soldiers and servants had done their best to aid her where they could. They’d left the final decisions up to her, but had tried to steer her in the right direction. Evina had grown up quickly, taking care of her cousin and all of Maclean in her father’s stead. She’d even taken care of her father, insisting he eat when he wanted to skip his meals, taking away the liquor when he began to depend on it too heavily. And even when the first mourning and depression passed after her mother’s death, he didn’t bounce back and take up the reins of his responsibilities again. He’d decided she was doing a fine job, named Donnan as his first, replacing the man who had died trying to save her mother and husband, and announced that she’d inherit the title of clan chief when he died. He’d then gone hunting, and fishing, and visiting old friends.
Dear God, she hated him for it, Evina admitted to herself.
And she loved him, she acknowledged grimly.
And that was why she’d lied to herself. Evina loved him for the father he’d been before her mother’s death, and hated him for the weak, helpless man he’d become when her mother had died, and the burdens that had placed on her young shoulders. It shouldn’t have been like that. Conran certainly wouldn’t have fallen apart as her father had. He’d have dragged himself from his bed and done what needed doing. She was sure of it. And if he hadn’t, his brothers and Saidh would have descended on him and dragged him from his bed and made him do it, helping him fight his way through his grief until he could manage on his own.
Her father hadn’t had brothers and sisters like the Buchanans though, Evina acknowledged. Instead, he’d had one sister who had arrived on his doorstep a few short months later, dying. Another sorrow to pile on top of his grief. And then she’d left Gavin in his care, adding another burden to Evina’s shoulders. Not that she minded. Gavin had been the only bright spot in her life at that point. He might even have been her saving grace. She’d had to continue for him.
And that was the hell of it, Evina thought unhappily. She’d often wanted to give up and spend her days moping and weeping over what she’d lost as her father did, but hadn’t been able to because of Gavin, and the people of Maclean. She’d had to be strong for them. Her father, however, hadn’t done that. Not for them, and not for his own daughter.
“Bloody hell,” Evina muttered, giving her head a shake. This was her wedding day. It was no time for soul searching and dealing with issues that couldn’t be resolved. There was nothing that could be done to change the past. It was over. Now was the time to look to the future, and her future was the man she was going to marry. Conran.
Evina breathed out slowly, just the thought of him calming her somewhat. Aye, Conran was nothing like her father. He would not let her down. And if he did, Saidh would help her kick his arse, she thought, and smiled.
Tildy was right. She was marrying into a large family who put their family first. They would be there, not just for Conran, but for her now too. As well as for any children they had, she thought, and decided then that Conran had the right of it. They should have a lot of children, seven or eight like Conran’s parents had had. That way, if she and Conran died, they would all have each other to depend on.
Smiling faintly, she peered down at the skirts of the lovely gown she wore, recalling Geordie’s and Alick’s reactions to seeing her in it.
The day ye mistook Conran fer Rory was the luckiest day o’ his life, m’lady. Ye’re absolutely stunning, Geordie had said, and Evina wondered if Conran would agree. Was he glad they were going to wed? Her father had pretty much tricked and trapped him into this marriage.
Evina smiled wryly at the thought. After years of leaving her to fend for herself, Fearghas Maclean had suddenly recalled he was her father and tried to see to her future. She may have fought him on it, but would have to give him credit for that. He’d chosen a fine time to do it, and a fine man to see her married to. Because she certainly felt lucky that she’d brought the wrong Highlander home and was going to marry him. Had she brought Rory home that day, as intended . . . well, he was nice enough, and no doubt family was as important to him as the rest of the Buchanans, but Evina really didn’t think the healer’s temperament would suit hers. Not that she’d set out to bring back the Buchanan healer with marriage in mind. In fact, that had been the furthest thing from her thoughts at the time. But she was glad now that she was marrying Conran. He was a man she knew she could depend on.
He also made the bedding a pleasure she couldn’t imagine experiencing with anyone else. All the man had to do was look at her with that hungry expression he got, and she began to tingle in places that had never tingled before. And once he kissed or touched her? Forget everything else. She was lost. Evina became nothing more than a mass of trembling need and desire, ready to lie down and spread her legs for him.
Aye, she’d got the right Highlander in the end. She liked him, respected him, found pleasure with him and . . . She might even love him, Evina admitted solemnly to herself. Certainly, if she didn’t already, she was headed that way. She was beginning to find it hard to imagine life without him, and certainly couldn’t begin to envision sharing her life and body with anyone else.
Aye, she probably loved him, Evina acknowledged, and then grimaced at herself for her cowardice, and admitted that aye, she did love Conran Buchanan. He was a good man, a strong man, a brave man, and intelligent. But he was also gentle, and patient and kind. She loved him and wanted him, and was eagerly looking forward to being his wife, she acknowledged, and then stilled when she heard a shuffling sound behind her. It was much like the sound she’d heard just before someone had tried to drown her in her bath.
But the passage entrances were all locked now, Evina reminded herself. It must be mice this time, she reassured herself. Still, she started to turn to see what was causing the sound . . . and then paused halfway, jerked back around to face the door when a knock sounded.
Shaking her head at how jumpy she was, Evina called out, “Enter,” and stood up to brush her skirts down as the door opened.
Evina half expected it to be her father come to collect her. But since her feelings about that man were presently somewhat muddled, she was relieved when Gavin stepped inside.
“Ye look beautiful, cousin,” he said with a combination of awe and pride as he closed the door and looked her over.
“Thank ye,” Evina murmured, shifting uncomfortably under the praise, and then to change the subject, she asked, “Is everything all right? I was waiting for Da to come get me.”
“Aye. Uncle Fearghas sent me to fetch ye down. He’s a bit tender at the moment and didn’t think he could manage the stairs,” Gavin explained.
Some voice in Evina’s mind pointed out that he was failing her again, but she pushed it away. The past was the past, she reminded herself firmly.
“Ye were no’ planning to run away, were ye?” Gavin asked suddenly.
Evina dragged herself from her thoughts to peer at him with confusion. Her bewilderment showed in her voice when she asked, “What?”
When Gavin raised his eyebrows and gestured behind her, Evina turned and saw that the entrance to the passage was open. She stared at it with shock. It hadn’t been open when the women were here, or while Tildy was cleaning. They would have noticed. And it shouldn’t be open now. Her father had locked down the passages from the inside. No one should have been able to open it from the passage.
“I thought ye wanted to marry Conran?” Gavin said behind her, and she could hear the frown in his voice.
“Aye,” Evina breathed, and then moved quickly toward the opening, intending to close and lock it. She’d then have Gavin fetch Conran and the others to search the passages again. The attacker was obviously in there. At least, that was her thinking. But she never made it to the entrance. Evina had barely taken a step past the bed when movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. She started to turn, but was too slow. Even as she spotted the tall, balding man in a semiclean plaid raising up from his crouched position on this side of the bed, he was grabbing her arm and dragging her up against his chest.
“Gav—!” she managed to shout before he covered her mouth with one hand, and pressed a knife to her throat with the other.
“Whist, lass, ye’ll be drawing company we do no’ want,” he growled, pressing the knife sharply against her neck.
“Let her go,” Gavin demanded, drawing his sword from his belt and raising it threateningly.
“Lower the sword, lad,” her captor hissed. “And do no’ even think o’ callin’ out fer help, else I’ll slit her throat right now.”
Gavin hesitated, his hand tightening on his sword, but then he firmed his chin and shook his head.
Her captor released a low chuckle. “Hold on to it, then. But that broadsword looks heavy. Ye’ll tire eventually . . . and I can outwait ye. I hold all the cards.”
They all stood at a stalemate for what seemed an interminable amount of time, and then a knock sounded at the door.