But had Evina been a party to the plot? Conran wondered, and considered the possibility that he hadn’t been the seducer at all. After a moment though, he shook his head. Nay. He was the one who had initiated things. He was the one to kiss her first, and then to caress and so on. And he’d pulled her down on top of his cock, taking her innocence. Mostly, Evina had just held on and responded, and her responses had shown her inexperience. In fact, if he hadn’t been so desperate to plant his cock in her, he would have realized she wasn’t the knowledgeable widow he’d thought she was before breaching her innocence, he acknowledged.
Besides, there was no mistaking Evina’s shock when it happened. She’d looked almost traumatized. And then there were her comments just now in her room. Much to his chagrin, she hadn’t at all enjoyed the experience. At least, not enough to make up for the pain that had followed. She’d certainly made it clear she had no desire to repeat it.
Nay, Evina hadn’t been the seducer. She wasn’t skilled enough for that. But she had, at least, been bait. And he’d taken that bait. Now, it looked like her father was offering her in marriage . . . to Rory of all people, he thought grimly, and then glanced toward the bedchamber door when it burst open.
A brief stillness fell over the room when Evina staggered in. She had a plaid wrapped around her shoulders that didn’t completely hide the fact that she was dressed only in a tunic, and she was leaning heavily on Tildy.
“Daughter!” the Maclean cried, pushing away from the mantel and hobbling as quickly as he could toward her. “Ye’re awake!” The old man hugged her briefly with obvious relief, and then pulled back to frown at her. “Ye were sorely wounded, lass. Ye should be abed. What are ye doing up?”
“What are ye doing, Da?” she countered breathlessly. “Why was Gavin in the clearing? Why are the Buchanans here? What have ye done ?”
“Now, lass,” the Maclean said soothingly, taking her free arm and helping Tildy to get the girl to one of the chairs at the table by the fire. “I’m just looking after yer future.”
“Me future?” she gasped with amazement. “Maclean is me future.”
“Aye, but what o’ a family?” her father asked with a frown. “A husband and bairns?”
“Ye said I did no’ have to marry,” Evina reminded him grimly. “Ye said I’d always have a home here. I’m to run Maclean, and then Gavin will take over from me when I retire or die.”
“Aye, I did say that,” he agreed, but then added with regret, “But that was before.”
“Before what?” she asked sharply.
“Before I nearly went to meet me maker,” the Maclean growled, and then took a deep breath, shook his head and said, “Lass, I was sure I was going to die, and I was preparing meself. I was thinking on how I’d see yer mother again, and how happy I’d be to see her . . . and how very angry she’d be with me for no’ ensuring ye married again, and had babies.”
“She would no’ be upset,” Evina assured him quickly. “She’d ken I do no’ want to marry.”
“Aye, but what o’ bairns o’ yer own?” her father asked. “And do no’ lie and say ye have no interest in babies. I saw ye with Gavin. Ye were a fine little mother, fer all ye were only ten. I ken ye must want children.”
“I’ve thought on it,” Evina admitted, and then scowled in Conran’s direction and added, “But to get bairns ye have to bother with that bedding business and I’ve no interest at all in that. ’Tis painful and unpleasant and just awful,” she finished unhappily.
Fearghas blinked at those words and then turned to scowl at Conran. “What the devil did ye do to the lass?”
“Nothing,” he said abruptly, and then grimaced. “Well, o’ course I did something, but . . .” Pausing, he took a deep breath to calm himself and then said carefully, “Thinking her an experienced widow, I was perhaps a little bit eager, and showed less care and finesse than I could have.”
“Hmm,” the Maclean grunted, and then turned to Evina and patted her shoulder, muttering, “I suppose getting shot with an arrow at the end did no’ help.”
Evina snorted at the suggestion and snapped, “The arrow hurt less than the breaching.”
“Oh, now,” Conran protested, sure she was exaggerating.
“Ye do no’ think so?” Evina asked archly. “Which would ye rather have driven into ye? An arrow this big?” She placed her thumb and forefinger about an inch apart to signify the widest part of the arrow tip. “Or something this big?” Now she held her hands in a circle, thumbs to thumbs, and forefingers to forefingers.
A startled laugh slipped from Conran. When the others turned on him, he bit it back and said, “While I appreciate the compliment, m’lady. No man’s equipment is that big around.”
“Yers was,” she assured him. “The size of a battering ram. At least it felt like it was.”
Conran grinned at the suggestion. “Talk like that could make a man fall in love with ye, lass.”
Evina scowled and turned to her father. “I am no’ marrying him. I do no’ even like him.”
“Ye seemed to like him well enough when the two o’ ye were rolling around on top o’ me in me deathbed,” Fearghas snapped.
“’Twas no’ yer deathbed,” she snapped right back, and then her eyes widened in horror. “Ye were awake?”
“A dead man would have been hard-pressed no’ to wake up had the two o’ ye fallen on top of him and commenced to moaning and rolling about as ye did on me,” the Maclean roared, and then took a deep breath and said more calmly, “Ye’ve ne’er, ever shown such an interest in any other man, no’ once through the years, lass. So I thought, well, ye obviously liked him and should marry him. I just had to sit back and wait fer the two o’ ye to come to that conclusion yerselves. But ye two idiots were avoiding each other. Ye barely even looked at each other unless ye thought the other was looking away . . .” Grimacing, he admitted, “It fell to me to see to it meself.”
Evina narrowed her eyes and growled, “So ye sent us out alone in hopes we’d misbehave, and put Gavin on us to catch us in the act?”
“Which ye did,” her father pointed out, and added triumphantly, “Which just proves ye do like him!”
“I don’t!” she snapped. “And I will no’ marry him. I’d rather have me arms and legs cut off than do that.”
“Would ye rather marry our other brother here?” Aulay asked suddenly, and gestured to Rory.
“Aulay!” Conran growled.
“’Tis who her father offered her to,” Aulay said with a shrug.
“What?” Evina asked, glancing from brother to brother with bewilderment.
“It seems ye kidnapped the wrong man,” the Maclean explained quietly. “That is Rory Buchanan. Ye brought Conran Buchanan home. But thinking Conran was Rory, ’twas Rory I offered marriage to in me message.”
“What?” she repeated, her voice growing weaker. Worse yet, her eyes now sought out Conran, appearing bewildered and wounded.