“Aye, Uncle.” Gavin headed out of the room at once, casting Evina an apologetic look as he went. He seemed to know she was not pleased with this turn of events.
“Rory, lad, why do ye no’ go ask Donnan to speak to the stable master to arrange for yer and Evina’s horses to be saddled,” her father suggested now. “I’d have a word with me daughter.”
“O’ course.” The Buchanan grabbed his empty saddlebag and turned to leave the room.
Evina frowned after him. The man had been smiling. She hadn’t seen him smile in . . . well, she didn’t think she’d actually seen him smile once since encountering him in the clearing five days ago. At least, his expression whenever he’d seen her the last four days had been hard and closed . . . ever since that kiss here in this room when she’d acted such a tart, she thought on a sigh.
“Evina.”
Blinking her thoughts away, she glanced to her father uncertainly.
“Come. Set the tray down on the bedside table,” he instructed solemnly.
Mouth tightening, Evina did as he ordered. She eased the tray onto the table, carefully pushing the few items on it across its surface with the tray itself until they all fit on it.
“Now, sit for a minute,” he said when she’d finished the task.
Again, she did as he asked, but Evina eyed him warily. He was definitely up to something. She just had no idea what.
“I want ye to be on yer best behavior this afternoon,” he said quietly.
Evina stiffened. “What do ye mean? I’m always on me best behavior,” she muttered, wondering if he knew about the kiss.
“Are ye wearing braies under yer gown?”
That question caught her by surprise. “Aye. Why?”
“Because ladies do no’ wear braies, ride astride or carry swords,” he said grimly. “Take them off.”
“What?” she asked with amazement.
“Ye heard me. Take them off. Right now,” her father said firmly, and when she just stared at him, he raised himself up slightly and turned to scowl at her. “I’m closing me eyes and counting. The braies had best be on me bed by the time I reach ten and open them again.” The Maclean then actually closed his eyes and began to count.
Evina stared at him blankly until he reached three, but then jumped up and quickly yanked her skirts up to reach her braies and tug them down and off.
“There,” she snapped, letting her skirts drop and tossing the braies across the bed as he reached eight.
Her father opened his eyes and smiled when he shifted so that he could look around and see the braies on the end of the bed. “Good. Now the sword.”
“The sword?” Evina asked, and started to shake her head. “I—”
“Ladies do no’ carry swords around on their person,” he said firmly. “Remove it and set it on the braies. Ye can have it back when ye return.”
“A fat lot of good ‘twill do me then,” she snapped at once. “If ye’re going to make me ride outside the bailey with him, that’s when I’m most likely to need me sword. We could be attacked by bandits, or—”
“I’m sure Rory can protect ye against anything that might crop up,” he said, unconcerned.
“Rory is a healer, no’ a warrior,” she said with disdain.
“And ye’re a lady, no’ a young lad,” he snapped back, and then said slowly and firmly, “Ladies do no’ carry swords. They are sweet, and gentle. They smile, and coo, plea prettily and compliment a man. They do no’ hit him in the head with the hilt of their sword and drag his naked arse back to my castle! ”
“He told ye,” Evina whispered with dismay.
“Sword,” he growled, pointing toward the braies on the bed.
Biting her lip, Evina removed her sword and set it carefully on the bed.
“He did no’ tell me,” her father said now. “I was awake and heard everything when ye arrived back and were arguing here in me chamber.”
“Oh,” she breathed, and then sucked in a mouthful of air and said defensively, “Ye were very sick at the time. Deathly so. I was just trying to get him back here to save ye.”
“For what?” the Maclean asked dryly. “So I’d be healthy when his brothers came to kill us all for kidnapping one of their own?”
Evina’s eyes widened incredulously. “I’m sure he will no’ send for his brothers. He seems perfectly content helping ye. I have no’ had to hold me sword to his throat to get him to do it or anything as I feared on the ride back. He—”
“O’ course he’s acting content,” her father snapped. “He is alone in a strange castle, surrounded by strangers, all of whom are armed while he is no’. Did ye expect him to refuse to tend me, or tell ye he would complain to his brothers about his treatment? Only a fool would do that. Ye might kill him and bury him here so no one ever kenned what happened to him.”
“I ne’er would!” Evina gasped with amazement.
“I ken that,” her father said wearily. “But he does no’. The Buchanan does no’ ken ye, lass. He kens none o’ us. What do ye think he’s been thinking while being kept here?”
“I . . .” Evina shook her head helplessly. She hadn’t really thought much on how he might be feeling. They weren’t keeping him prisoner with guards on him or anything. She’d assumed he understood that he was a guest, not a prisoner. Not that he wouldn’t have been a prisoner had he refused to help her father. The truth was, she would have made him help her father at sword point had he refused at first. But he hadn’t; he’d set to work on the man the moment he saw how ill he was.
“The Buchanans are becoming a very powerful family, lass,” her father said solemnly. “The boys have been marrying into, and becoming lairds over, keeps with their own armies. If ye go up against one, ye’ll find yerself dealing with all o’ them, and all o’ their soldiers. That would be the Buchanans, the Drummonds, the Carmichaels and the MacDonnells combined. And their friends the Sinclairs would no doubt join in any battle they took on as well. All those armies at once would crush Maclean . . . and Rory’s asked to send a message to his family,” her father told her unhappily before admitting, “I fear what he’s going to say, but can hardly refuse to let him send a message else he would be a prisoner.”
Evina’s eyes had widened further and further with every word out of her father’s mouth, until she was now gaping at him with horror. She truly hadn’t considered the fact that the brothers had married into their own keeps complete with armies, or that they’d doubtless combine forces with the Buchanan army in any battle they took up.
“Where is his sword?” her father asked now.
“What?” She blinked at him in confusion, her mind still picturing a massive army under half a dozen flags, marching on Maclean.
“I presume Buchanan had a sword with him when ye found him?” her father said grimly.
“Oh, aye. I think so.” Evina added that last bit because she wasn’t at all sure. “If so, Donnan probably has it.”
He nodded. “Then have Donnan fetch it and ye return it to the Buchanan ere ye leave the bailey.”