“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?”
“Aye,” Tildy said, straightening and whirling back toward the door, only to stop after a couple of steps and spin back. “Oh! The laird sent me to fetch ye, Lord Buchanan. He wishes to see ye.”
“Fine,” he said grimly.
When the maid remained where she was, waiting, he glanced back and scowled. “Ye’ve passed along the message. Ye can go and fetch that mead now.”
Tildy hesitated and then asked, “But what should I tell the laird? He wanted me to bring ye back.”
“Tell him I’m speaking to his daughter and will join him in a moment.”
“Very well,” Tildy said on a sigh. Turning to the door, she added, “But I would no’ take long if I were you. Yer brothers do no’ seem the patient sorts.”
“Me brothers?” Conran said sharply, standing up.
Tildy stopped in the door and swung back. “Aye. They arrived just ere dawn, and have been arguing with the laird ever since. Now they’ve asked to see ye.” Turning back to the door, she added, “But I’ll tell them—”
“I’m coming!” Conran interrupted, quickly moving around the bed.
“That ye’re coming,” Tildy finished with satisfaction as she held the door open for him to leave the room. Once he’d disappeared down the hall, she turned back to smile at Evina. “I’ll be right back with that mead.”
“Nay, wait!” Evina called as the maid started to close the door. When the old woman paused and swung back, one eyebrow raised, she waved her over. Tildy hesitated, and then stepped back inside and closed the door.
“What is it, m’lady?” Tildy asked kindly as she approached the bed. “Are ye hungry too? O’ course ye are. I’ll fetch ye some food too. Or mayhap broth. Would ye like me to find some pillows to prop behind ye so ye can sit up?”
“Nay. Thank ye though.” Evina managed a grateful smile, and then said, “Ye mentioned the Buchanans are here and have been arguing with Da since arriving?”
“Aye,” Tildy said dryly. “And they’re a loud bunch. Woke me from a sound sleep before the sun was even up. I’ve been running ever since.”
“What are they arguing about?” Evina asked the moment the maid fell silent.
Tildy made a face. “I could no’ hear. I tried, but yer father posted Gavin in the hall to keep anyone from getting too close.”
“Gavin?” Evina said softly as she recalled thinking she’d seen him in the clearing.
“Aye, the poor lad. And him still healing from that wound he took to the arm while fighting off those bandits with the Buchanan. I told him he should really go rest and let his arm heal. I said I’d stand guard in the hall in his stead, but he was having none of that,” she said with disgruntlement.