Page 24 of The Wrong Highlander (Highland Brides 7)

Chapter 6

“How is she?”

Conran glanced up from a sleeping Evina at that question, and watched as Fearghas Maclean hobbled into the room. While the man was up on his feet, walking obviously pained him. But then, half his derriere was missing and just starting to heal. He would be hobbling for a while, Conran thought absently, and then realized the man was waiting anxiously for an answer.

He shifted his grim gaze back to Evina. Conran had helped Rory clean similar wounds before. Still, he’d wished the other man was here for this one. He’d been very worried he might make a mistake and do her more damage than good. However, everyone had been looking to him to handle it, and that certainly hadn’t been the moment to admit that he was not the great healer Rory Buchanan. He’d done the best he could, but it had been slow, grueling work.

“I removed the arrow, and cleaned and closed the wound,” he said on a weary sigh, and then shook his head with wonder as he added, “I do no’ ken why, mayhap ’twas the position of the arrow, but she did no’ lose as much blood as I would have expected. I think she’ll be all right.”

“Thank God,” Fearghas murmured as he reached the bed and dropped to perch his uninjured butt cheek on the side of it. Brushing a strand of hair away from his daughter’s face, he muttered, “I should have let her take her sword.”

“She ne’er would have got to use her sword, and ’twould no’ have prevented her taking the arrow. That was our first warning there was anything amiss,” Conran told him quietly.

“Aye, o’ course,” he said unhappily.

“How is Gavin?” Conran asked, sitting back in his chair.

“His arm is sore, but he’ll be fine. I sent him to find his bed,” the Maclean murmured. “Tildy cleaned and sewed his wound while ye were busy with Evina. The maid is good with wounds,” he added. “But perhaps ye could take a look when he wakes up to make sure all is well though.”

Conran smiled wryly, thinking the woman had probably handled more of such wounds than him, but he could hardly say so, and merely nodded. “O’ course.”

“Thank ye,” Fearghas said quietly. “And thank ye for today.”

“Today?” Conran asked, unsure what he meant. He’d already thanked him for tending Evina’s wound.

“For what ye did in the glen,” the Maclean explained. “Gavin said ye were very good with a sword, and took out two of the men yerself almost ere he could get there to help ye.”

“Oh, aye,” Conran murmured, and then frowned and asked, “What was Gavin doing there?” He’d been more than a little surprised when the man had appeared out of nowhere to help him with the bandits that had beset them.

The Maclean just shook his head, and caressed Evina’s cheek. “He and Evina are all I have o’ true value in this world and I nearly lost them today.”

They were both silent for a minute and then Fearghas glanced to him and suggested, “Why do ye no’ go have something to eat and then find yer bed too? Ye’ve missed a lot o’ sleep o’ late tending to me. I’ll look after her. Ye need yer rest.”

Conran hesitated. He’d rather stay and watch over Evina, but he was tired . . . and food would not go amiss. Still—

“Evina’s marriage to the MacPherson?” he said abruptly, and then paused, unsure how to proceed. He wanted to know how she could possibly have been married and never bedded. How she had retained her maiden’s veil. But he could hardly ask outright without revealing how he’d discovered she’d still had her maiden’s veil, and that he’d taken it in the clearing before they were attacked.

“What about it?” Fearghas asked. “I told ye she was married and he died.”

“Aye.” Conran frowned.

“MacPherson,” the Maclean murmured now, and shook his head. “She’s carried the name since she was wed at ten, but that’s something I forget too. I still think of her as Maclean like me,” he admitted, his lips twisting. “She’ll always be Evina Maclean to me.”

Conran glanced to him sharply and asked with disbelief, “Ten? She was married at ten years old?”

“’Twas in name only,” Fearghas said, waving away his outrage.

Conran raised his eyebrows.

“Me son had died two years earlier,” he explained. “It left Evina as me only heir, which meant her husband would rule Maclean when I died. She’d been betrothed to the MacPherson’s second oldest boy, Collin, since birth. So, when he reached the age where he would be sent away for training, I wanted him to take that training here at Maclean. I was hoping ’twould allow him to get to ken the people, and how Maclean works,” he explained. “So that our people would have his loyalty once he took over.”

“Smart,” Conran murmured when the man paused briefly.

“I thought so at the time, but that fine idea gained me nothing and cost me much in the end,” the Maclean said wearily, and scrubbed one hand over his wrinkled face. “Anyway, the MacPherson was fine with that, but he was ailing and did no’ expect to see the end of the year. He wanted the wedding to take place while he was still alive to see it, so part of the deal for Collin to come to Maclean was that the two should marry first. At MacPherson.”

“But if Evina was only ten . . .” Conran frowned and pointed out, “The legal age for a lass to marry is twelve.”

“Aye.” Fearghas nodded. “We had to get special permission from the king and the church. ’Twas allowed with the proviso that the wedding was no’ to be consummated until she turned twelve.”

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