Page 29 of The Wrong Highlander (Highland Brides 7)

Conran scowled at his youngest brother. “How I got here is no’ important.”

“Is it no’?” Aulay asked mildly.

“Nay, it is no’,” Conran assured him, and then admitted, “There was a bit o’ confusion at the start, but once here, I stayed o’ me own free will.”

“Confusion like their thinking ye were me?” Rory asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Aye,” he admitted with a grimace. “They meant to take ye, but got me instead.”

“And ye said naught because . . . ?” Fearghas Maclean asked, finally speaking up.

“Well, I hardly wanted me brother kidnapped too, did I?” Conran snapped irritably. To his thinking, the Maclean had nothing to complain about. He’d saved his life, hadn’t he? Which was something his daughter, or Tildy, could have easily done if he’d revealed the sore on his bottom to them. That was the only reason they hadn’t been able to deal with the situation. They’d been fighting blind; not knowing about the wound, they’d thought him down with some exotic ailment.

“I thought ye were no’ kidnapped?” Aulay pointed out.

Conran glanced to him sharply, and then cursed, and shook his head. “All right, I was brought here, unconscious. But I was no’ really kidnapped. They could hardly just leave me there in the woods naked and unconscious, could they?” he pointed out, using Evina’s own argument, and then assured him, “And as I said, I chose to stay once here.”

“Why?” Aulay asked at once.

“Aye, why?” the Maclean asked with interest.

“Because ye were so ill,” Conran answered abruptly, and turned to his brother to explain. “His fever was extremely high. I kenned the man would no’ last long enough for Rory to be fetched back, and I thought I kenned what he’d do, so I did it. And it worked,” he pointed out, turning back to the Maclean. “Look at ye! Yer fever’s gone and yer even up hobbling around.” Conran paused to frown now, and added with concern, “Which ye really should no’ be doing, m’laird. Ye may tear yer stitches, or start yerself bleeding again.”

“Stitches?” Rory asked, drawing his gaze. “He told us he merely had a fever. That ye managed to bring it down, and he’s well now.”

“He had a fever because he had a boil on his arse that was so infected I had to cut away near half his behind to get it all,” Conran told him grimly.

Rory’s eyebrows rose, but he considered the Maclean, who was now looking both embarrassed and annoyed. Finally, he said, “Well, ye must have done a fine job. He’s up and about and no longer feverish.”

Conran shrugged. “I did me best, but ye still may want to take a look yerself now ye’re here.”

“Later,” Aulay said impatiently. “We’ve other matters to deal with now.”

“What other matters?” Conran asked warily.

“Well, the Maclean wrote to offer his daughter’s hand in marriage for her ‘desperate attempt to save his life’ by kidnapping Rory,” Aulay informed him dryly.

Conran stiffened, and then said, “But yer already married, Aulay.”

“He did no’ offer me her hand,” Aulay said with exasperation. “He was offering to give ye her hand. He only wrote to me, because I am the eldest brother, and head o’ the clan.”

“And the one most likely to lay siege to Maclean to get ye back,” Rory added dryly, and then frowned and added, “Or who the Maclean thought was me . . . Actually, he offered me her hand in marriage. The letter said Rory Buchanan.”

“What?” Conran growled.

“Aye,” Alick said with a grin. “And he promised to make Rory his heir. He’d become laird here when the Maclean passes.”

“Aye, it did say Rory Buchanan,” Aulay agreed, his eyebrows rising. “Now is no’ this a pickle?”

“It’s no’ a pickle,” Conran snapped. “Rory can no’ marry her.”

“Why?” Aulay asked with interest.

Conran merely scowled at the question, his feelings in an uproar. He’d been more than eager to bed Evina, but hadn’t ever contemplated marrying her. He hadn’t considered that an option. He was a fourth son, with a small inheritance, and some coin of his own he’d made helping out his brothers with their various endeavors, but had no castle to put a wife in. He was hardly in a position to offer marriage to someone like the Maclean’s daughter. Most men like the Maclean would want a man with better prospects for his daughter.

“O’ course,” Alick said, drawing him from his thoughts. “He made that offer ere he learned ye’d tumbled his daughter and—Ouch!” he complained, grabbing the back of his head when Aulay smacked him.

“Shut it,” Aulay growled, and then lowered his voice to say, “Ye do no’ ken who may be listening outside the door. The whole Maclean clan does no’ need to ken Conran ruined their laird’s daughter. Are ye trying to shame the lass or get Conran strung up?”

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