“Ye do no’ ken him though, and might no’ notice right away,” she pointed out.
“True,” he agreed with a faint smile.
“Here we are. ’Tis a little dusty, but—Oh, hell!”
Evina glanced to the side just in time to see the stirrup strap the stable master had in one hand snap. The man managed to hold on to the saddle for a moment with his other hand, but then it slid to the ground.
“It has no’ been used in years. I guess the leather is in bad shape,” the stable master muttered, bending to pick up the damaged saddle.
“Ne’er mind. Lady Evina can ride with me,” the Buchanan announced.
“Oh, nay, I—” Evina’s protest died on a gasp as his arm suddenly snaked around her waist from behind and she was lifted up onto the saddle before him.
“Hold on,” the Buchanan ordered, and immediately turned his mount and urged it toward the bridge out of Maclean . . . at speed. So far, this trip wasn’t going at all to plan, Evina thought with dismay as they charged out of the bailey.
Chapter 5
“That should be good enough, and this seems a nice spot. Why do we no’ stop and eat now?”
Evina straightened slowly from the horehound she’d been gathering. She rubbed her lower back as she glanced from the bulging saddlebag the Buchanan was carrying to the clearing they were standing on the edge of.
“Aye,” she said on a weary sigh, more than ready to rest if not eat. After the exciting start of his dragging her up on his horse and charging out of the bailey, their trip had calmed down considerably. The minute they were away from the keep, he’d slowed his horse and asked where he should go. He’d followed her directions, and before long they’d both been off the horse, gathering the weeds and wild herbs he needed for healing.
Some of the plants they’d gathered were ones they had in the garden at Maclean. Evina had told him as much and offered for him to take what he liked from there, but he’d said, “Why pilfer the gardens when they are growing wild out here? The ones in the garden might be needed later,” he’d pointed out, “and the ones in the wild would just wither away unused.”
Evina had shrugged and gathered what he wanted. Now his saddlebag was full to bursting again and she was exhausted. It felt like they’d been walking the woods and fields for a full day gathering herbs and weeds, although they had probably only been at it for a little over two hours.
“Tired?” the Buchanan asked sympathetically as he slung his saddlebag over his horse’s back.
“Aye,” Evina said simply as he gathered his horse’s reins and moved toward her. She could play at swords for hours in the practice field with the men, but harvesting plants was backbreaking work her body was unused to, using different muscles than fighting did. Not having had the nooning meal yet probably didn’t help either, she supposed.
“The middle o’ the clearing looks a likely spot for our meal,” he suggested after pausing beside her to glance around.
Evina nodded silently, uncaring where they sat so long as they sat.
“Here.” The word was her only warning, and not really much of one, Evina decided as he suddenly clasped her by the waist and tossed her up onto his horse. Grabbing the pommel to keep from sliding off, she peered at him wide-eyed, and he grinned. “Ye’re done in. Just rest on me mount and I’ll walk ye out to the middle o’ the clearing.”
Evina forced herself to relax, and settled more comfortably in the saddle as he led the horse. It was a much longer distance than she’d initially thought, and she was grateful for his kindness by the time they reached the desired spot.
“Here we are,” he said cheerfully, lifting her off the horse moments later.
“Thank ye,” Evina murmured, turning to unhitch the sack of food from the saddle as he grabbed the fur and quickly unrolled it on the ground. She swung back just in time to see him remove his sword from his waist and lay it on the fur. They then both dropped to sit on it, and Evina glanced around as she set the bag down in front of her. Seated as they were, she couldn’t see over the tall grasses unless she craned her head, she noted, and smiled faintly as it stirred old memories.
“What’s brought on that smile?” the Buchanan asked with interest.
Evina shrugged, and turned her attention to opening the sack of food. “This spot reminds me o’ me brother, Daniel. He used to like to play in places like this—high grass we could creep through and hide from each other in, then leap out and scare each other. ’Twas usually war games,” she explained.
“Ye have a brother?” the Buchanan asked with surprise. “Yer father’s ne’er mentioned him.”
“He would no’. Daniel died when I was eight,” she said softly. “I do no’ think Father ever truly got over it.”
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, and then asked, “How did he die?”
Evina shrugged and began pulling out the food Cook had packed: a roasted pork leg, bread, cheese, boiled eggs, cold boiled potatoes, custard, cherries, a skin of wine and two mugs. Closing the bag once it was empty, she set it aside and finally said, “I’m no’ sure. I was little. He got sick. Healers were brought in. Mother prayed until her knees were bleeding from kneeling, but . . .” She shrugged again. “We lost him.”
“So yer brother died when ye were eight, yer mother when ye were ten . . .” He hesitated and then said, “And ye raised Gavin from two on.”
“Aye.” Evina smiled faintly at the thought of her cousin. He’d been such an adorable little boy. All rosy cheeks and childish laughter. He’d brought sunshine and happiness back to Maclean after weeks of dark misery and mourning. If nothing else, she would always love him for that. Sighing, she watched the Buchanan use a sgian-dubh to carve hunks of meat off the pork leg, and asked, “What about you? Father mentioned ye have brothers?”
“Aye. Six of them now,” he announced, and passed her a hunk of meat on the end of his knife.
“Now?” she asked quietly as she tugged the bit of meat off the sgian-dubh .
“There used to be eight of us boys,” he explained quietly. “But Ewan, the younger twin of our eldest brother, Aulay, died some years back. In battle.”
“I’m sorry,” Evina murmured.
The Buchanan nodded, but said, “We have a sister too. Saidh.”
He stopped talking to take a bite of meat, and they both fell silent for a bit to concentrate on eating. While Evina hadn’t been much interested in food when he’d first suggested stopping, she found herself starved now that they were sitting and the food was laid out. They made a good effort at putting away everything Cook had packed for them, and had turned their attention to the custard and cherries when the Buchanan asked, “So why did yer father no’ wish ye to wear braies and ride astride today?”
Evina took a moment to readjust her mind from the food to conversation. She spent another minute trying to think of an excuse that sounded likely, and then just settled for the truth. It was always easier to go with the truth. No lies to have to remember.
“He thinks ‘twill make ye like me more if I’m more ladylike and agreeable,” she admitted, and wasn’t terribly surprised when he stiffened, his eyes widening and then narrowing suspiciously.