Page 13 of The Wrong Highlander (Highland Brides 7)

Evina had raised up off the bench to reach for a pastry on the tray when he’d asked that. She froze briefly at the question, he noted with interest, and then took a pastry and settled back in her seat before answering, “I have. I’m actually Lady MacPherson.”

Conran blinked at the simple words, shock rolling through him. She was married. Dear God and he’d kissed her. She’d kissed him back too.

“The Buchanan says yer father is improved,” Donnan commented into the silence that had fallen.

“Aye. His fever is down,” Evina said easily as if she hadn’t just sent Conran’s world into chaos. Then she added, “And he’s awake. In fact, I was to ask if he could have something to eat?”

Conran stared at her silently, his mind in an uproar. Not one of his thoughts was about her father though. His mind was full of her scent, and the feel and taste of her. Her excited gasps and mewls of sound were still ringing in his ears. He could still taste her on his tongue . . . and she was married.

“Broth perhaps, m’lord?” she asked, curiosity on her face now as she watched him.

Forcing his mind to her question, Conran sucked in a deep breath and turned toward the platter to grab a couple of pastries.

“Broth would be fine,” he growled, standing up with the pastries he’d taken. “I’d appreciate yer asking yer cook to send it up. I need to go check on him now he’s awake.”

Conran didn’t wait for a response, but headed for the stairs at a quick clip, his mind roaring. She is married!

He shouldn’t care, Conran told himself firmly. He hardly knew her. She’d knocked him senseless, kidnapped him, dragged him here trussed up and naked . . . and she kissed like an angel. Or a whore, he supposed. There had been no holding back, no tentativeness to her. She’d opened for him like a flower, spreading her legs and writhing in his arms like a well-trained lightskirt . . . because she was well-skilled, he realized. She was married after all, and apparently free with her favors.

Christ! Where was her husband? Was she as free and easy with every man who visited Maclean? Perhaps he shouldn’t complain. Perhaps he should just take her up on what she offered and bed the woman, scratch the itch that had been raised in him.

It wasn’t the first time a married woman had offered herself to him. Conran had never accepted before. He believed in the sanctity of marriage. But he was tempted this time. Evina was a tasty little bundle and full of passion. He wanted to drink up that passion and bury himself in her eager body.

Just thinking about it had him hard as he mounted the stairs to her father’s room. Conran wanted to strip her gown away and see those full soft breasts he’d touched through the cloth. He wanted to caress and suckle them, and he wanted to bury his face between her thighs and sip of her essence. He wanted her strong legs wrapped around his hips as he thrust into her, and then he wanted to flip her over and take her from behind, pulling her hair as he drove into her. Christ! He wanted her every way it was possible to take a woman.

An image came to mind of her on her knees taking him into her mouth, and Conran stopped at the top of the stairs, battling the urge to turn around, rush down, grab Evina by the hand and lead her someplace where they could do all those things. But then he gave his head a shake and forced himself to continue forward. She was a married woman, with a husband who wouldn’t take kindly to his wife indulging in such things with another man. At least Conran wouldn’t take kindly to her sleeping with someone else if she were his wife. Where the hell was her husband?

Away performing his service for the king, he supposed. Or perhaps off with some lover somewhere. Maybe there was a reason Evina had been so free with him. Mayhap her marriage was miserable and her husband neglected her.

Conran shook his head slightly. It didn’t matter. She was married. He would do better to stay away from her while here. His conscience couldn’t bear his trysting with a married woman when there were so many unmarried and available women out there willing to satisfy his needs. From now on, he would keep his distance from Lady Evina MacPherson, he told himself firmly . . . and just hoped that was something he could manage.

Chapter 4

“What’s going on between ye and me daughter?”

Conran was reaching out to retrieve more bandages from the trunk he’d pulled over beside the bed when the Maclean asked that. The question startled him sufficiently that he dropped the wrappings on the floor. Cursing, he bent to pick them up and eyed the bits of dirt and pieces of rushes clinging to the formerly clean cloth. Conran tossed the soiled material aside with disgust and grabbed a clean one.

“Well?” Fearghas Maclean asked, sounding testy.

“What do ye mean?” Conran asked carefully. Nothing was going on between him and Evina. At least, nothing had gone on between them in the four days since he’d learned she was married. He’d been avoiding her like the plague since then. Fortunately, she appeared to be doing the same, making it easier for him to steer clear of the temptation she offered with her very presence.

“I ne’er see the two o’ ye together,” the Maclean growled, sounding annoyed. “She sits with me while ye eat, and leaves the minute ye return. ’Tis like ye’re avoiding each other. Are ye still mad at her for kidnapping ye and dragging ye here?”

Conran sat back to peer toward the man’s face, but since Fearghas was lying on his stomach in the bed with his head down, he couldn’t see his expression. Narrowing his eyes, Conran asked, “Ye ken about that?”

“I was awake when they first brought ye up here,” he admitted. “I heard everything. Well,” he added, his voice wry, “most o’ it anyway. I was a bit out o’ me head at the time. The fever was doing me in. But I got enough to understand ye did no’ come here willingly.”

Conran remained silent for a moment and concentrated on packing the wound, but finally said, “I am no’ angry about that. I do no’ believe she intended to kidnap me.” Well, certainly she hadn’t intended to kidnap him, he thought. He wasn’t Rory. But he didn’t even think she’d planned to kidnap Rory. “’Twas just an unfortunate turn o’ events that ended with me being knocked out, and carted here without their gaining my agreement first.”

“Hmm,” Fearghas muttered, and then asked, “So why are the two o’ ye avoiding each other?”

“Where is her husband?” Conran asked instead of answering the question.

“Her what?” The Maclean reared up on the bed, pushing his chest up with his arms and turning to gape over his shoulder at him with amazement.

“Her husband,” Conran said, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. “I asked why she was no’ married and she said she was.”

“Oh. Aye.”

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