Page 86 of The Wrong Highlander (Highland Brides 7)

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.”

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