Page 26 of The Wrong Highlander (Highland Brides 7)

“Come on now, Bets,” Tildy said firmly. “Out with ye. He’s no’ wanting yer help.”

“But he’s so handsome,” Betsy complained as Tildy ushered her out of the room. “And he’s young too. He’s the kind o’ man ’tis a pleasure to . . .”

Tildy closed the door on the rest of the woman’s words and moved back to stand beside him to oversee the filling of the bath. She then ushered everyone out, assuring him, “I’ll have Cook wait a bit on sending up yer meal, so it does no’ cool while ye bathe.”

“Thank ye,” Conran said, and unpinned his plaid the moment the door closed. He was shrugging out of his shirt even as the heavy cloth slid to the floor. A glance down then made him pause. If there had been any question of Evina’s innocence, the dried blood on his cock answered that question. He had definitely breached her maiden’s veil.

“Damn,” he muttered, and stepped over the side of the tub to sink into the water and wash away the proof.

It seemed things weren’t as simple as he’d thought they were when he’d discovered Evina was a widow. Not simple at all.

Pain was the first thing Evina was aware of, a bone-deep throbbing in her upper chest that she knew at once would not pass quickly. Biting back a groan, she opened her eyes to see what was causing it and blinked in surprise as she found herself staring at the light blue drapes around her bed. She was in her room, Evina realized, and was surprised by that for some reason. The last thing she recalled . . . Oh, yes, the Buchanan telling her to hang on, they’d be there soon. Here, she presumed, and glanced down at her chest. The arrow was no longer there. At least, the furs covering her were lying flat on top of her chest.

“Evi!”

She glanced to the side at that startled gasp, and blinked when she saw the Buchanan sitting up from a slumped position in a chair next to the bed. His expression was relieved, she noted as he shifted to the edge of his chair and leaned forward.

“I’m sorry, so sorry,” he said with a sincerity and regret that made her eyebrows raise.

“For what?” she asked with confusion, her voice raspy and dry. Her throat hurt too with the effort, but she added, “Ye did no’ shoot the arrow.”

“Nay, no’ for that,” he said on a sigh. “For what happened ere that.”

“Oh,” Evina said weakly, flushing as she recalled what he was referring to. The very brief experience that had started as all passion and pleasure and very quickly ended in pain and regret.

“I thought ye an experienced widow who would enjoy a dalliance,” he explained apologetically. “I had no idea ye yet retained yer innocence.”

She stared at him blankly. He’d thought she’d enjoy a dalliance? What did that mean? The answer seemed obvious enough. His only interest had been in bedding her a time or two while here, and then he’d planned to ride off back to Buchanan, or somewhere else to dally with some other widow or such. She was just another Betsy to him . . . to be bedded and left behind.

Evina supposed she shouldn’t be surprised. They hardly knew each other, and her behavior had hardly demanded respectful treatment. She never should have let him even kiss her, let alone touch and suckle her breast, and she should have slapped him silly the minute she felt his hand under her skirts. Instead, she’d moaned and pleaded and egged him on, eager to experience what he was offering.

Well, Evina thought grimly, she’d had her experience, and a terrible disappointment it had been too. Not that she hadn’t found pleasure, but it had been so fleeting it was hardly worth the pain that had followed, or the self-disgust and regret she felt now.

“Evi?”

She peered down at his hand as he clasped hers and then tugged her hand free. She had no interest in listening to his false apologies. He wasn’t sorry for what he’d done, so much as for the fact that she hadn’t been the experienced woman he’d thought her. He was just scared she would demand something of him, marriage perhaps, to satisfy her honor. But Evina had no interest in marrying him . . . or anyone else for that matter. She just wanted him to go away so she could forget this whole, awful experience.

“Evina?” he said now with concern.

“’Tis fine,” she murmured huskily, unable to even look at him. “’Twas a lesson learned. I am fine. Just tired. I’d like to sleep now.”

A surprised silence followed, but Evina didn’t look at him. She just wanted him to go. Unfortunately, he didn’t appear to be of the same mind.

“I’m afraid we have to talk about this,” he said quietly. “I took yer innocence.”

Evina shifted impatiently. “I’m aware o’ that, m’lord. I was there. But ’tis fine. I was no’ planning to marry again anyway, and I certainly would no’ now that I ken how unpleasant the marriage bed would be.”

The abrupt way he jerked upright drew her gaze around and she noted his expression. He couldn’t have looked more pained had she actually slapped him. Her words had obviously hurt his pride. Apparently, he’d thought the experience would be pleasurable for her. She couldn’t imagine why. Everyone knew only the man found pleasure in the bedding.

“Evina,” he began with a frown, and then paused and glanced toward the door as it opened.

“Oh, Lord Buchanan, ye are in here,” Tildy said with surprise. “The laird said ye probably would be, but I felt sure ye’d be in yer room. When I didn’t find ye there though, I—”

“Is there something ye wanted, Tildy?” Evina interrupted quietly, hoping the maid would take the Buchanan away and save her from any more of this humiliating conversation. She just wanted to forget the whole thing. Why wouldn’t he just go away and let her? she wondered, and then became aware of the stunned silence in the room, and focused on the maid to see her gaping at her, a combination of joy and surprise on her face. The moment their gazes met though, the woman rushed forward.

“Oh, m’lady! Ye’re awake! Thank the saints!”

“Aye, she is,” the Buchanan said on a sigh as the old servant reached the bed, and bent to hug Evina. “She just woke up, in fact. And could probably use something to drink. Do ye think ye could fetch her some mead?”

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