Page 30 of The Wrong Highlander (Highland Brides 7)

“Sorry,” Alick muttered, rubbing his head. “I was no’ thinking.”

“Ye rarely do,” Aulay said grimly, and then turned to Conran and said quietly, “Alick is right though. When we got here, the man was understandably froth. He did no’ even allow me to introduce Rory and Alick before announcing that the situation had changed: Rory had tumbled the lass in the field ere they were attacked by bandits. The marriage was no longer an offer, but a demand. Rory would now have to marry the lass to save her honor.”

“That’s when yer brother introduced me to these two lads here.” Fearghas gestured to Alick and Rory. “As ye can imagine, I was a bit dismayed to learn ye were no’ the man I thought ye were.”

Aulay nodded and then raised his eyebrows in question. “So? Is the Maclean’s daughter ruined?”

Conran stood frozen for a moment, completely stunned. He hadn’t imagined anyone knew about what had happened in the clearing . . . except perhaps the bandits. But then he recalled Gavin appearing suddenly in the clearing. The arrow had already hit Evina, and the bandits had rushed from the woods to attack him when the lad had suddenly appeared. At the time, he’d considered it a lucky happenstance that Evina’s cousin had been passing when needed. But now he wondered what the lad had been doing there. Had he been sent to watch them? Had he seen the whole thing? His kissing and caressing Evina, and then taking her innocence?

Conran noted the Maclean’s satisfied expression and felt his stomach drop as he realized he’d been completely wrong about his eligibility when it came to Evina. The Maclean didn’t think him not good enough to be a son-in-law. It looked to him as if the man wanted him for the position. So much so, in fact, that Fearghas Maclean had set him up. At least, he’d apparently wanted him for a son-in-law when he’d thought him Rory, Conran thought. Fearghas obviously got rid of the weeds as an excuse to get him and Evina away from the keep and alone in the hopes that something might happen between them . . . and then Gavin had been sent to be a witness.

But had Evina been a party to the plot? Conran wondered, and considered the possibility that he hadn’t been the seducer at all. After a moment though, he shook his head. Nay. He was the one who had initiated things. He was the one to kiss her first, and then to caress and so on. And he’d pulled her down on top of his cock, taking her innocence. Mostly, Evina had just held on and responded, and her responses had shown her inexperience. In fact, if he hadn’t been so desperate to plant his cock in her, he would have realized she wasn’t the knowledgeable widow he’d thought she was before breaching her innocence, he acknowledged.

Besides, there was no mistaking Evina’s shock when it happened. She’d looked almost traumatized. And then there were her comments just now in her room. Much to his chagrin, she hadn’t at all enjoyed the experience. At least, not enough to make up for the pain that had followed. She’d certainly made it clear she had no desire to repeat it.

Nay, Evina hadn’t been the seducer. She wasn’t skilled enough for that. But she had, at least, been bait. And he’d taken that bait. Now, it looked like her father was offering her in marriage . . . to Rory of all people, he thought grimly, and then glanced toward the bedchamber door when it burst open.

A brief stillness fell over the room when Evina staggered in. She had a plaid wrapped around her shoulders that didn’t completely hide the fact that she was dressed only in a tunic, and she was leaning heavily on Tildy.

“Daughter!” the Maclean cried, pushing away from the mantel and hobbling as quickly as he could toward her. “Ye’re awake!” The old man hugged her briefly with obvious relief, and then pulled back to frown at her. “Ye were sorely wounded, lass. Ye should be abed. What are ye doing up?”

“What are ye doing, Da?” she countered breathlessly. “Why was Gavin in the clearing? Why are the Buchanans here? What have ye done?”

“Now, lass,” the Maclean said soothingly, taking her free arm and helping Tildy to get the girl to one of the chairs at the table by the fire. “I’m just looking after yer future.”

“Me future?” she gasped with amazement. “Maclean is me future.”

“Aye, but what o’ a family?” her father asked with a frown. “A husband and bairns?”

“Ye said I did no’ have to marry,” Evina reminded him grimly. “Ye said I’d always have a home here. I’m to run Maclean, and then Gavin will take over from me when I retire or die.”

“Aye, I did say that,” he agreed, but then added with regret, “But that was before.”

“Before what?” she asked sharply.

“Before I nearly went to meet me maker,” the Maclean growled, and then took a deep breath, shook his head and said, “Lass, I was sure I was going to die, and I was preparing meself. I was thinking on how I’d see yer mother again, and how happy I’d be to see her . . . and how very angry she’d be with me for no’ ensuring ye married again, and had babies.”

“She would no’ be upset,” Evina assured him quickly. “She’d ken I do no’ want to marry.”

“Aye, but what o’ bairns o’ yer own?” her father asked. “And do no’ lie and say ye have no interest in babies. I saw ye with Gavin. Ye were a fine little mother, fer all ye were only ten. I ken ye must want children.”

“I’ve thought on it,” Evina admitted, and then scowled in Conran’s direction and added, “But to get bairns ye have to bother with that bedding business and I’ve no interest at all in that. ’Tis painful and unpleasant and just awful,” she finished unhappily.

Fearghas blinked at those words and then turned to scowl at Conran. “What the devil did ye do to the lass?”

“Nothing,” he said abruptly, and then grimaced. “Well, o’ course I did something, but . . .” Pausing, he took a deep breath to calm himself and then said carefully, “Thinking her an experienced widow, I was perhaps a little bit eager, and showed less care and finesse than I could have.”

“Hmm,” the Maclean grunted, and then turned to Evina and patted her shoulder, muttering, “I suppose getting shot with an arrow at the end did no’ help.”

Evina snorted at the suggestion and snapped, “The arrow hurt less than the breaching.”

“Oh, now,” Conran protested, sure she was exaggerating.

“Ye do no’ think so?” Evina asked archly. “Which would ye rather have driven into ye? An arrow this big?” She placed her thumb and forefinger about an inch apart to signify the widest part of the arrow tip. “Or something this big?” Now she held her hands in a circle, thumbs to thumbs, and forefingers to forefingers.

A startled laugh slipped from Conran. When the others turned on him, he bit it back and said, “While I appreciate the compliment, m’lady. No man’s equipment is that big around.”

“Yers was,” she assured him. “The size of a battering ram. At least it felt like it was.”

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