“There,” Aulay said, tugging at a pleat here and there. “Ye look fine.”
“Thank ye,” Conran muttered, sliding his sword into his belt. “And thank ye for the loan o’ the clean shirt and plaid. ’Tis most annoying no’ having any o’ me own plaids and shirts here.”
“I can imagine,” Aulay murmured, stepping back to peer at him before admitting, “’Twas a gift from Niels. Made from his own sheep.”
Conran raised his eyebrows at this news. “Then why did he no’ bring it to me?”
“He wanted to, but I said I would,” Aulay admitted. “I wanted to talk to ye.”
Conran sighed and shook his head. “I am marrying her, brother. There’s no need for threats, or beatings. I—”
“I ken that,” Aulay interrupted dryly. “Any fool could see ye’re in love with the lass and happy to marry her.”
Conran stiffened at the words and then grimaced slightly. “That obvious, is it?”
“Aye,” he said with amusement. “But that’s no’ what I came to talk about.”
“What did ye come to talk about, then?” Conran asked, his eyebrows rising.
“The plan the ladies cooked up,” Aulay said. “The tent.”
“Oh. Aye. The Sinclairs’ traveling tent,” he said heavily, recalling the plan the women had hatched up. He and Evina were to sleep in the tent tonight, their first night as husband and wife. It was supposed to be because with so many guests there was no room in the keep itself. But the truth was, the women were hoping that the bastard who kept trying to kill Evina would see their sleeping in the tent as a perfect opportunity and make one last attempt.
“Ye do no’ like the plan?” Aulay asked, not seeming surprised. “I thought it a good one.”
“Well, ’tis no’ yer Jetta who will be in the tent in peril if the bastard does make another attempt to kill her,” Conran pointed out shortly.
“Nay,” Aulay agreed. “’Twill be Evina.”
“Aye,” Conran growled.
“He may no’ attack,” Aulay pointed out soothingly. “We will have men stationed at the entrance and at each corner o’ the tent to make it seem like ye’re well-guarded.”
“Until the two at the back move forward to talk to the men at the front corners, leaving the back unguarded,” Conran said grimly, recalling what Alick and Geordie had told him when he’d pressed for an explanation. “And then he’s likely to slice through the back o’ the tent to enter and try to kill us while he thinks we’re sleeping. And hopefully, Geordie and Alick will be able to get out o’ the chests they’re hiding in quickly enough to stop him from harming Evina.”
“Dougall and Niels and I will be watching from the passage too,” Aulay reminded him. “’Tis why they had the tent set up amid the apple trees behind the kitchens. Besides, ye and Evina will have yer weapons too, and I doubt ye’ll be sleeping for worry that a murderer might be creeping up on the tent. Then too, just seeing how well-guarded the tent is at first might scare him off before the men move forward,” Aulay pointed out. “It may no’ work.”
Conran merely nodded, but he was torn between hoping the plan did, and didn’t, work. He wanted to catch the bastard, but would prefer a trap that didn’t put Evina in peril. Unfortunately, he hadn’t come up with one yet, and as much as he hated to admit it, Evina’s plan was a good one. She really was a clever wench.
“Anyway,” Aulay said now, “I just wanted to be sure ye kenned the plan.”
“Aye, I ken it,” Conran muttered with a sigh.
“Good. Then let’s go see ye married, brother,” Aulay said, heading for the door.
Grunting, Conran followed him to the door, and led the way out when Aulay opened it for him. He paused in the hall though when he saw Geordie and Alick crouching in front of Evina’s door, alternately pressing their ears to it, and then apparently trying to see through the wooden slats.
Conran was just opening his mouth to ask what the devil they thought they were doing when Geordie turned his head and spotted him and Aulay. Putting a silencing finger to his mouth, the man stood abruptly and hurried to stop them before they moved too close to the door to risk speech.
“What are ye doing?” Conran asked in a quiet hiss.
“Gavin just went in a minute ago,” Geordie explained.
“So?” Conran asked. “He is her cousin. He is probably fetching her for Laird Maclean. He was hobbling pretty good earlier. His wound is most likely troubling him. Between that and Evina’s still being weak, I suspect the two o’ them will have to take horses to the chapel.”
“Aye,” Geordie agreed.
“Did ye tell them?” Alick asked anxiously, joining them then.
“I was just about to,” Geordie said with irritation.
“Tell us what?” Aulay asked.
“We think someone is in there with them,” Alick said, his expression a cross between worry and excitement.
“Who?” Conran asked at once.
“We do no’ ken,” Geordie admitted. “The women went in and came out, and then Tildy came out and Gavin went in. Gavin and Evina should be the only ones in there.”
“What makes ye think they’re no’ alone, then?” Conran asked with a frown.
“Because shortly after Gavin went in, Evina started to shout his name, and then it sounded like two men were talking. At least, we heard Gavin speak and then someone answered in a voice almost too quiet to hear.”
“Mayhap ’tis Evina,” Aulay suggested.
The two younger brothers shook their heads at once, and then Geordie said, “‘The voice sounds too deep and raspy. ’Tis a man, I’m sure.”
“And ye did no’ go in to see what is about?” Conran asked with disbelief.
“It just happened, and we were trying to listen to see what was being said and decide what to do. If there is a man in there, our entering unexpectedly could put Evina and her cousin in peril,” Geordie pointed out. “Besides, we checked the room ere we let Evina in, and no one went past us, and the passages are all locked from the inside. There should be no one in there.”
Conran frowned and then said, “Ye’ll have to knock at the door. We need to ken if something is amiss or no’.”
“What do I say when one o’ them opens the door?” Geordie asked with a frown.
“If ’tis Gavin and ye can see into the room, just say ye were checking that all was well. But if ye can no’ see into the room, or he looks like something may be amiss, say ye just thought to let Evina ken that Aulay and I just headed down to the church so they may want to wait a few minutes before heading down themselves.”
“Why?” Geordie asked with confusion.
“Because he shall see me standing beside ye and ken we suspect something is amiss,” he pointed out patiently. “He may be able to give us a hint o’ what is happening.”
When Geordie said, “Right,” and nodded with understanding, Conran urged him back to Evina’s door and then stepped to the side, saw that Aulay was out of sight on the other side of the door and nodded at Geordie to go ahead.
His younger brother took a deep breath and then knocked at the door.
They all stood waiting for it to be answered, and it definitely took longer to be answered than it should have, Conran decided as they waited. Geordie was just raising his hand to knock again when the door was cracked open and Gavin peered out. The young man’s eyes slid over the four of them and then returned to Geordie.
“I was just . . . er . . .” Geordie glanced to Conran, and then tried again. “I just thought to let ye ken that Conran and Aulay have headed down to the chapel. Evina may want to wait a moment as she does no’ want him to see how lovely she looks in her dress yet.”
Gavin’s gaze sharpened, and he glanced to Conran, relief clear on his face. He obviously understood they suspected something. There was someone in there with them. Conran was sure of it, and was just trying to think of a question he could whisper to Geordie for him to ask that might gain them more information when Gavin—clever as his cousin—said, “I am glad to hear it. I feared he might try to escape marrying Evi by slipping away through the passages.”
Conran got the message loud and clear. Approach from the passage. Leaving Geordie to respond, he turned away at once, and slid along the hall back to Laird Maclean’s door.
“The Maclean locked the passages.”
Conran nearly jumped out of his skin at that whisper behind him, but then glanced over his shoulder to see that Aulay had followed and shook his head. “Obviously, someone unlocked them. Or at least the one to Evina’s room and whichever one they entered through to get to it.”
“Do ye ken how to unlock the Maclean’s passage?” Aulay asked as they slipped into the old man’s room.
“Aye,” he assured him, and slid his sword out as he strode across to the fireplace. Conran quickly turned the rock he’d seen the Maclean use to lock the entrance, and then turned the torch holder to open the passage. He held his breath as it slid open, and then moved to peer cautiously into the dark space. It looked empty, but there was a square of light pouring from the entrance to Evina’s room next door. The entrance in her room was open. Raising his sword, Conran entered the dark passage and began to creep silently toward that square of light.
“Nay, nay. Conran wants to marry yer cousin, and we all want him to as well,” Evina heard Geordie say from the other side of the door. “We’ll be happy to welcome her to the family.”
There was silence for a minute, and then Gavin said, “I’ll tell Evina that we should wait a few minutes, then.”
“Aye, ye do that,” Geordie muttered, and then as her cousin started to close the door, he added, “We’ll be right here. Waiting.”
Gavin finished closing the door and then turned to face Evina and her captor with a tight expression. She suspected he’d passed a message to the men in the hall with that comment about Conran escaping through the passages, but wasn’t sure if they’d got the message. And her cousin seemed to her to be trying to avoid looking at her. Evina didn’t know what that meant. And she didn’t like how still and quiet the man holding her was either. She feared he too suspected Gavin had tried to give the men a message with that comment. Trying to distract him, she asked, “The passages were locked. How did ye get in?”
“I unlocked them, did no’ I?” he said dryly, but his voice sounded distracted to her.
“How did ye even ken about the passages?” she asked, thinking that keeping him talking had to be good. It meant he couldn’t think. Hopefully. And if Gavin’s message had been understood and someone was even now coming up the passage from one of the other rooms to help them, she needed to give them time to get there. The problem was, Geordie and Alick didn’t know how to open the passages, or even exactly where they were. They’d need to fetch her father. They needed time.
“Me wife,” the man muttered, and Evina started to glance around in surprise, but stilled when the knife dug in deeper at her throat.
“Yer wife?” Gavin asked at once, drawing his attention again. “Who is yer wife? Is she a servant here?”
Much to her relief, the knife at her throat eased again as the man said with disgust, “Nay. Do I look like peasant stock to you? Me wife was Glenna MacLeod. Glenna Maclean MacLeod.”
Evina blinked at that announcement and met Gavin’s gaze, sure her expression was as bewildered as his by the claim. The man was obviously mad if he thought they’d believe Glenna had been married to a bandit ere marrying the MacLeod. Apparently, Gavin thought so too, because he raised his sword and eased a step closer.
“Nay,” her captor hissed at once, drawing Evina back a step toward the passage entrance. “Just stay still, and stay calm, son. Everything is fine. In fact, just stay out o’ this. I’m no’ here fer you.”
“That’s as may be,” Gavin growled, moving another step closer. “But if ye threaten me cousin, ye’ll be dealing with me as well. And if ye do no’ unhand her at once, I’ll call out to the men in the hall and ye’ll have a hell o’ a lot more than me to deal with.”
“Open yer mouth and I’ll slit her throat at once, son,” the man threatened.
“Stop calling me ‘son,’” Gavin snapped. “I’m no relation to you.”
“Aye, ye are,” the man growled, and then shook his head and said with exasperation, “I do no’ ken why ye’re making this difficult. I’m doing this fer yer benefit.”
“Me?” Gavin gasped the word with disbelief.
“Aye.” The man holding her sighed his foul breath across the side of her face, and then said, “I am yer da, boyo. I’m Garrick MacLeod. Yer father.”
Evina stiffened, and jerked her head around, getting a quick glimpse of his face before the knife digging into her throat made her turn forward again. It was enough. She suddenly realized why he had looked familiar to Tildy. The man had Gavin’s face, just older, rougher and with less of the intelligence evident on Gavin’s. That was enough to make her believe he was who he claimed to be, and that Garrick MacLeod hadn’t died as his brother had claimed.
Gavin obviously didn’t believe it though. He snorted at the claim and said coldly, “Me father is dead. He broke his own fool neck falling off his horse while riding drunk.” Mouth tightening, he added, “And none o’ this is for me. I have no desire to see me cousin dead. Besides, ye tried to kill me in the clearing. Was that fer me benefit too?”
“I didn’t ken ’twas you, did I?” Garrick MacLeod hissed defensively. “But as soon as the wench called ye Gavin, I realized ye were me boy and gave off and fled,” he pointed out, and then added, “Trust me, laddie, had I wanted ye dead, ye would be. Ye’re no’ bad with a sword, but I’m still the best who ever lived.”
Evina rolled her eyes at the bragging. Her father had once said Garrick MacLeod had been a braggart and liar in life who took what he wanted when he wanted it. Her father had also told her that he’d tried to convince his father not to make his sister, Glenna, marry the man, but his father wouldn’t listen. If the fact that the man had beaten his wife to death hadn’t already convinced her that her father was right about him, this would. The MacLeod wasn’t dead, and he may have fallen on hard times, but he obviously still retained his bloated belief in his esteem and that he was entitled to anything he wished.
“Look boy,” the man said now, “I am yer da.”
“Ye’re lying,” Gavin said baldly, and glanced to Evina. “Isna he?”
She knew he expected her to agree at once, but she hesitated and then admitted, “I think he might be telling the truth, Gavin. I think he might be yer father.” It made more sense than that someone else not only knew about the passages, but how to unlock them. She could imagine her aunt being young and foolish enough to tell him about them when she was first married and didn’t realize the kind of man she’d been wedded to.
Gavin blinked at the suggestion and then frowned and asked accusingly, “Then why did ye and Uncle Fearghas say he was dead?”
“Because we thought he was,” she assured him quickly. “I was there when Da was told he’d died. Yer uncle Tearlach is the one who told him that. Garrick MacLeod’s brother. We had no reason not to believe him.”
“Tearlach.” Garrick spat the name with loathing. “That bastard stole everything from me.”
“No’ quite everything,” Evina argued quietly, thinking of the wife he’d beaten to death. Her aunt Glenna.
“Everything,” Garrick insisted. “He stole MacLeod right out from under me. And I’ll no’ let this wench do the same to you,” he growled, pressing the knife tighter to her throat.
“Nay!” Gavin took another step closer, alarm filling his face. “Do ye harm her I’ll kill ye.”
“Don’t be foolish, son. I’m looking out fer yer best interests here. And while I’m sure ye care for the wench, ye need to think on yer future now. The Maclean is old and like to die soon. He already very nearly did before the Buchanan came and healed him,” he added with irritation, and then continued, “Right now, the lass’d be the only thing standing between ye and inheriting Maclean when the old bastard kicks off. But does she marry the Buchanan and have children with the bastard . . .” He shook his head. “Ye’ll ne’er gain the title then.”
“I don’t care,” Gavin growled. “I’ll no’ let ye hurt Evina.”
“Ye do as I say and ye can have no’ just Maclean, but MacLeod as well,” he argued with frustration. “And it’s yer birthright.”
“What?” Gavin asked with disbelief. “Ye left MacLeod to me uncle. I’ll ne’er rule there.”
“Nay. I didna,” he assured him. “Tearlach tried to force me to. He came to me after Donnan left with ye and yer mother, and said that if Glenna died, I’d hang for it, but he could protect me. I thought the bastard was finally going to be the supportive brother I needed, but wrangling MacLeod out o’ me was what he was about. He said he’d claim me dead, and save my neck from the noose, but I’d have to sign a new will and make him me heir.”
“And ye did,” Gavin pointed out with disgust.
“I didn’t have a choice, did I?” the MacLeod snapped. “Events were conspiring against me. First Donnan betrayed me by sneaking away with me boy and wife, and then there was yer mother running off and killing herself, and then me brother—”
“Mother did no’ kill herself,” Gavin snapped. “Ye beat her to death.”
“She’d have lived had she stayed at MacLeod,” the man hissed furiously, sending spittle flying past Evina’s face. “Old Betty would have seen her well. She’d seen her back from worse beatings than that one. ’Twas her running off to Maclean with Donnan while sore injured that killed her.”
Evina shook her head slightly with disgust even as Gavin did it fully.
“Anyway,” Garrick added on a sigh. “I did no’ sign away MacLeod on ye. I saved it for ye so ye could return and claim it when ye were old enough to keep yerself safe from me brother.”
“Ye signed it away,” Gavin said heavily. “There was a will naming him as heir.”
“Aye,” Garrick admitted, and then grinned and added, “But I did no’ sign my name, I signed yers.”
“What?” Evina gasped even as Gavin did.
“I signed Gavin MacLeod rather than Garrick MacLeod,” he said patiently. “And Tearlach did no’ even notice. He was too busy pouring himself a drink to celebrate his forcing me to take everything from me boy and giving it to him. I signed yer name, he gave it a cursory glance, no doubt noticed naught but the big G and MacLeod and rolled it up and tucked it away in his chest of important papers where it’s no doubt now buried under every other important paper he’s ever collected since.”
“He’s probably got rid of it by now,” Gavin said with a frown.
“Nay. He throws nothing away. Nothing,” Garrick emphasized. “The bastard hoards everything he lays his hands on.” He paused briefly, and then said with satisfaction, “So ye see, lad, all we have to do is kill yer cousin here, and that old bastard Maclean, and ye’ll have two castles. Ye’ll be a fine rich laird, all thanks to me.”
“Well, if what ye say is true and I need only go claim MacLeod, why kill Evi and Uncle Fearghas?” Gavin asked with a frown. “What do I need with Maclean if I can claim MacLeod?”
“Because yer uncle Tearlach is a useless fool who gambled away and lost most everything at MacLeod except the land,” he growled, sounding furious. “Ye’ll need the wealth o’ Maclean to help ye bring MacLeod back to the state ’twas when I ruled it. And I’ll help ye with that. We just need to kill the girl here, and her father,” he insisted, digging the knife in a little deeper.
“And, o’ course, ye want nothing for this service,” Evina mocked dryly.
“Shut up,” Garrick growled, pressing the knife tighter again.
He was slicing her throat each time, Evina knew. She could feel the blood dripping down her throat. But she didn’t think he was cutting too deep. At least, she hoped not. But noting the anxious way Gavin was eyeing her neck, she began to wonder. Mayhap he was cutting deep. Mayhap there was more blood than she realized, and it just didn’t hurt much because of the situation. Mayhap she was dying as she stood there.
The thought was an alarming one. Evina didn’t want to die. Especially not now. Not when things were just starting to get good. She was about to marry Conran, a man she was quite sure she probably loved . . . maybe. Coward, she thought, and then admitted that aye, she did love the man. And was not that just her luck? Evina thought. To find a man she liked, respected and loved, and then die before she could enjoy it and have a life and children with him?
Well, she’d enjoyed it a bit, Evina supposed. Certainly, she’d at least experienced the pleasure he gave her with his mouth and hands, and yes, even his cock. While that first time in the clearing she had definitely not been a fan of what his manhood could do, she had since learned it was really quite wonderful. It was also apparently quite sizable, she’d learned while talking with the other women at the table this afternoon before Conran had returned. And had that not been an amusing discussion?
Aye, she definitely must be dying, Evina decided. There was no other explanation for why she was standing there rhapsodizing over Conran’s cock when she had a murderous villain at her back, and a knife to her throat.
“Do ye want something fer it?” Gavin asked suddenly, rushing the words out and moving another step closer. She suspected by his anxious expression that it was an effort to get his father to stop sawing through her neck.
“Nay, o’ course no’. ’Tis all fer you,” the MacLeod said at once, but then added in a wheedling tone, “O’ course, with ye having two fine keeps, surely ye can find a little room in one of them fer me, eh? A room o’ me own to live out me dying days in warmth and comfort, with whiskey to warm me belly and a young maid in me bed. That’d be grand after so many years sleeping in the cold and going without. And it seems a fair enough payment fer giving ye so much.”
Evina had been watching Gavin as the man spoke, and twice he’d glanced slowly down to her side and back. The third time he did it was as the MacLeod fell silent and awaited his response. That was when she finally realized he was trying to send her a message. She couldn’t see what her cousin was looking at, but her hands were free. Reaching cautiously down with her left hand, she moved it around and then blinked in surprise when her fingers brushed up against cold metal. The MacLeod had stepped back and to the side each time Gavin had moved forward, and he’d dragged her with him. It seemed they were now standing right next to the fireplace, because Evina was quite sure what her hand had encountered was the poker that hung from a hook to the side of the fireplace.
Moving cautiously, she slipped it off the hook and grasped it firmly and then tried to decide the best way to use it. Jab it into his leg? Swing it over her head and hopefully hit his? Bend her arm, and jam it back into his stomach? She really wasn’t quite sure which was least likely to get her throat slit. All of them seemed rather risky. On the other hand, not doing anything would definitely see her throat slit. There was no way Gavin could prevent it, and sooner or later the MacLeod was just going to do it.
“Well?” the MacLeod snapped impatiently, and took the knife away from her throat to point it at Gavin angrily. “Ye’re a damned fool if ye do no’ listen to me. Now answer me, dammit!” he barked, and started to bring the knife back, only to howl in pain when Evina quickly shifted her hold on the poker, bent her arm and jammed the pointed tip back into his stomach.
The MacLeod released her at once to grab his stomach, and Evina leapt away toward her cousin, who promptly pulled her behind him and faced his father. Hurrying to her chest, Evina grabbed her sword and then whirled to rush back to Gavin, noting that there was blood slipping from between the MacLeod’s fingers. She’d used more force than she’d realized, and actually done some damage with the poker, it seemed. Good.
“Nay.” That word from Gavin made both of them glance toward him with surprise as he continued. “I’ll give ye nothing. Ye killed me mother. I’ll no’ let ye kill me uncle, and the woman who was both mother and sister to me all me days. And I’ll be damned if I ever let ye live in the same castle as me. Unless ye’re in the dungeon.”
The MacLeod’s mouth dropped open briefly at the words, and then snapped shut and he straightened grimly and raised his sword. “Why ye ungrateful, sniveling little bastard. After all the trouble I’ve gone to, ye think to treat me like this? I’ll teach ye to mind yer betters, ye—” His words died abruptly when Conran slid from the dark passage behind him and pressed his sword into his back.
“Ye’ll be teaching him naught,” Conran said coldly as Aulay slipped out of the passage behind him. “Evina’s already taught Gavin all he needs to ken.”
“Aye, she has,” Gavin said with a smile, his stance relaxing.
Conran smiled at him, and then raised his eyebrows and asked, “What do ye want to do with him?”
“Do?” Gavin asked, looking suddenly uncertain.
“Well, we have to lock him in the dungeon for now so we can hold the wedding,” Conran pointed out. “But what we do with him after the ceremony is up to you. We can deliver him to the king to have him strung up for murder, or just keep him locked up in the dungeon for the rest o’ his days.”
“Neither,” Garrick said at once. “Let me go, son. I’m yer father. And ye need me to get MacLeod back. I can tell everyone that Tearlach forced me to sign the will.”
“Or we could ride to MacLeod, ask to see the will and point out that the name on it is Gavin MacLeod, no’ Garrick as Tearlach claimed it to be,” Conran pointed out as Aulay moved around the two men and walked to the door to open it and let Geordie and Alick in. “’Twould either be deemed a fake, or a will ye had drafted and signed for Gavin as a boy. Either way, Gavin would get MacLeod back without needing to suffer yer presence further.”
“Aye,” Gavin breathed, and glanced to Evina to grin. “Ye’ll help me settle in at MacLeod will ye no’?”
“O’ course,” she agreed with a smile, squeezing his arm.
“Well?” Conran asked gently, and then grimaced and added, “The priest is waiting on us, Gavin.”
“Oh, aye, sorry,” he muttered, and then frowned at the MacLeod and shook his head. “I ken I said that about the dungeon, but I don’t really want him here. The truth is, I don’t even want to think on him again. I suppose we should let the king deal with him.”
“Good enough,” Conran said as the MacLeod sagged in defeat. “We’ll put him in the dungeon for now, and then have Donnan arrange to see he’s transported to the king.”
“We’ll take him down to the dungeon fer ye,” Geordie offered, moving from his position by the door to stand next to Conran. “And then join ye at the church.”
“Thank ye,” Conran murmured, taking the MacLeod’s knife and sword and stepping back as Geordie and Alick stepped up. “Make sure ye check to be sure he does no’ have other weapons.”
As Geordie nodded and started to search the man, Conran moved around them to set the weapons on the table next to Evina and then turned toward her. He was just reaching for her when a grunt made her glance around. She was just in time to see Geordie falling backward, clutching his arm, and then the MacLeod was rushing toward her.
Before either Evina or Conran could move, Gavin had stepped in front of them, his broadsword pointed at a spot between his father’s throat and chest. He didn’t raise and bring it down. There wasn’t time. Gavin merely lowered the tip slightly and lunged forward, stabbing him through the heart.
The MacLeod looked surprised, and then the light went out of his eyes. Gavin stepped back, withdrawing his sword, and they all watched his father drop to the ground.
Evina let her breath out slowly, and started to move toward Gavin, but paused and glanced down with surprise when she couldn’t. She stared at the arms around her with surprise then. She hadn’t even realized Conran had grabbed her. Even as she looked down, he released her though, and moved to his brother’s side.
“Are ye all right, Geordie?” he asked with concern, helping him up.
“Aye. He caught me by surprise, but ’tis just a scratch, I think,” Geordie muttered as he stood up. He lifted the hand covering his arm, revealing a slice across the forearm.
It was bleeding freely, but would heal quickly with a couple of stitches, Evina was sure as she watched Alick and Aulay usher the injured man out. She glanced around with a start though when Conran clasped her chin and lifted it.
“Ye took a couple o’ nasty cuts too,” he said with concern as he examined her throat.
“I’m fine, ’tis fine,” Evina murmured, trying to tug her chin free. But he was having none of that and urged her to the pitcher and ewer on the table by the window. Grabbing the clean linen Tildy had set there, he dampened it in the water in the pitcher, and gently ran it over her neck.
“’Tis still bleeding,” he said with a frown. “Ye may need stitches.”
“I do no’ need stitches,” she said at once, and took the cloth from him to press firmly against the injured area. “’Twill stop. ’Tis fine,” she assured him, and then turned to peer at her cousin. He hadn’t moved, and was still staring at his father’s corpse. Frowning, Evina handed Conran the bloody cloth and moved to her cousin’s side. When he didn’t seem to notice her presence, she clasped his arm gently, drawing his fixed gaze away from the MacLeod’s body.
“Are ye all right?” she asked, concerned about how he was handling having just killed his own father. It had been in self-defense, and the man had been horrible, but he was still Gavin’s father.
“Aye,” he muttered, patting her hand and turning his eyes back to the MacLeod. “’Tis fine. I’m fine.”
Evina eyed him dubiously. “I do no’ think ye are, Gavin. He—”
“I am,” he said, finally meeting her gaze. “In truth, I’m glad he made me kill him. He killed me mother, and tried to kill ye. He got what he deserved, and I’ve avenged both of ye,” he said solemnly, and then smiled crookedly. “I really am fine.”
Evina relaxed a little, but then gave a sniff and shook her head woefully. “I think ye’ve spent too much time around Conran. He had blood pouring down his back and still claimed he was fine too.”
“Me?” Conran asked with disbelief, crossing the room to join them as Gavin smiled faintly and murmured something about removing the body. “Ye do the same thing. Ye did it just now about yer neck,” he pointed out. “And ’tis ye he grew up around and learned it from.”
“Oh, aye,” Evina murmured the admission, and then smiled and shrugged. “Well, I guess ’tis fine, then.”
Conran chuckled at the words and kissed her quickly. He then lifted her chin and peered at her neck again. “The bleeding has stopped.”
“I told ye ’twould,” Evina responded at once, but was secretly relieved. She hadn’t at all been sure it would stop bleeding. She just hated stitches.
“Aye, ye did,” Conran agreed, and then raised his eyebrows and asked, “Now, will ye please accompany me to the church so I can marry ye before something else happens to delay it?”
“Aye,” she said with a smile. However, she immediately dug in her heels when he tried to usher her away and said, “But . . .”
Pausing, he turned to look at her in question. “But?”
Evina glanced around, and then waited until Gavin had dragged the MacLeod’s body out of the room before turning back. Taking his hands then, she glanced down at them solemnly for a moment, before raising her gaze to his face to say, “Do no’ laugh, m’lord. But I think I love ye.”
Conran blinked at her words. “Ye think . . . ?”
“Aye.” She nodded. “’Tis ridiculous I ken after the fuss I made about no’ wanting to marry ye, but I was thinking on it while waiting for Da to collect me, and again while waiting for Garrick to kill me, and I decided I must love ye. That or I’m mad, because while I love me father and Gavin, and even Tildy, ’twas ye I fretted most over about leaving. Ye and all the things I would miss.”
“What would ye miss?” Conran asked, his voice husky and a soft smile curving his lips.
Evina shrugged helplessly. “The life I could have had with ye. The bairns we would have had. The talking and laughing. Having ye to share me burden with. Yer smile, yer laugh, yer cock, yer—”
“Me cock?” Conran choked out with amazement.
Evina frowned at him for the interruption, but admitted, “Aye. I quite like it.”
“Oh—I—That’s . . . good?” he finished lamely.
“Aye, well, I realize that may be surprising,” she admitted. “I mean, I didn’t at first as ye ken.” When he nodded weakly, she assured him, “But, as I told Saidh, I’ve become quite fond of it o’ late.”
“Ye told Saidh that?” he asked with alarm.
“Well, aye. We were discussing how painful the first time was fer me, and I had to assure her that we had got past that,” she explained.
“Ah, I see,” he said, and then cleared his throat. “Well, I’m flattered, o’ course. But mayhap ye might refrain from mentioning that to any o’ the other women.”
Evina raised her eyebrows. “So ye don’t want me to tell anyone how ye’ve a big cock and it gives me much pleasure?”
Conran opened his mouth, closed it again briefly to consider and then began to smile and said, “Well . . . I suppose ye can mention it to—Nay,” he cut himself off suddenly, shaking his head firmly. “As much as I would enjoy such rumors spreading around about my . . . er . . . virility, ye probably, definitely, shouldn’t say it to the other ladies,” he decided.
Evina nodded, but said, “Too late.”
“What?” he asked, aghast.
Evina scowled at his dismay. “Well, what the devil do ye think we women talk about when ye men aren’t around? The weather?”
Horror began to dawn on his face. “Surely, ye don’t talk about . . .”
“Aye,” she said when he couldn’t finish.
“Oh.” He stared at her blankly for a minute, and then seeming to realize she was waiting for him to say something, he cleared his throat and got out, “Well . . . I’m quite fond of yer . . . lady parts too.”
“Really?” Evina asked dryly. “I can say cock, but ye can’t bring yerself to say—”
Conran covered her mouth quickly and glanced around as if expecting someone to appear in the empty room. Reassured that they were alone, he turned back and half whispered, “Wife, I’m a Highlander. And Highlanders don’t use that word in front of ladies. Me mother drummed that into me at a young age. We could say any other curse we wished, but no’ that one.”
“A Highlander,” Evina murmured with a small smile. “My Highlander.” Shaking her head then, she asked, “Is it no’ funny?”
“What?” he asked uncertainly.
“If I hadn’t kidnapped the wrong Highlander that day, we may ne’er ha’e met,” she pointed out.
Conran relaxed, no doubt relieved at the change of subject. But then he asked, “Are ye sorry?”
“That I kidnapped ye and no’ Rory?” she asked.
“Aye. But ’twas no’ kidnapping,” he reminded her. “At least, we’ll ne’er admit ’twas to our children.”
“Really? We can no’ tell them the truth o’ how we met?” she asked with surprise.
“Definitely no’. Especially if they are lasses,” he added grimly, and then said, “Now tell me. Are ye sorry ye kidnapped me and no’ Rory?”
“Nay,” she assured him. “I may have kidnapped the wrong Highlander, but ye were the right man fer me.”
“Oh, lass,” Conran sighed, pulling her into his arms. “I fear I love ye too.”
“And why do ye fear that?” she asked uncertainly as he began to press kisses along her throat.
“Because now I want to show ye just how much,” he murmured, his hands sliding down to cup her bottom and lift her against him until his hardness pressed between her legs.
“Aye, well, Lord Pleasure-Cock, ye’ll have to wait until after the wedding for that,” Aulay growled impatiently from the door. “The entire population o’ Maclean, plus yer brothers, sister and their mates, as well as the Sinclairs, are all waiting at the damned church fer ye and have been fer quite a while now. Get a move on, ye two.”
Sighing, Conran eased her back to the ground. “We’ll have to continue this later.”
Nodding, Evina let him take her arm and urge her toward the door.
“Did I mention how lovely ye look yet?” Conran asked as they stepped out into the hall.
“Nay,” she answered at once.
“Well, ye do. Ye quite take me breath away every time I look at ye, ye’re so lovely,” he assured her.
“Thank ye,” she murmured, and then eyed his face curiously, and asked, “Why are ye smiling so?”
“Aulay called me Lord Pleasure-Cock,” he reminded her, his grin widening.
“And?” she asked uncertainly.
“He’s ne’er going to let me live that down,” he explained.
“Ye do no’ seem upset,” she pointed out.
“Hell, no,” he said on a laugh. “They are all calling Greer Fretting Fiona since hearing Saidh say that about him. But I get Lord Pleasure-Cock. As brotherly torments go, ’tis a damned fine one. Do no’ tell him though. He might stop.”
“As ye wish,” she said with amusement.
“Ah, Evina,” he sighed, scooping her up in his arms to carry her down the stairs, “I kenned the minute I saw yer sword hilt swinging toward me head that ye were the woman fer me.”
“No, ye didn’t,” she protested as they reached the main floor and he headed for the keep doors.
“Aye, I did,” he assured her.
Evina chuckled and shook her head. “Ye’re a strange man, Conran Buchanan.”
“Aye, but I’m yer strange man, Evina soon-to-be Buchanan,” he assured her.
“Aye, ye are,” she agreed softly as he carried her out of the keep, heading for the chapel where the priest waited to marry them.