When Evina glowered at him, refusing to even speak to the suggestion, her father shrugged. “Well, if there’s a possibility ye’re with child, ye’ll have to be wed and quickly. That means ye either marry Conran Buchanan, or I accept the MacMurray’s latest offer and ye arrange a marriage contract with him.”
“Nay!” Evina gasped with dismay. Their neighbor, MacMurray, had been making offers for her hand in marriage for years now. But he was a pretentious little prick with a nervous laugh and a tendency to be cruel to his servants. Evina knew darned right well he’d be just as cruel to her if he ever got her to agree to marriage and had her under his thumb. Her father knew it too, which is why he’d always refused the offers. She couldn’t believe he’d even consider the partnering now. That told her just how serious he was about her having to marry now that she might be with child.
Good Lord! All of this because of a few minutes in a field that she’d regretted from the second it happened.
“Well, then, I suggest ye seriously consider wedding Conran Buchanan,” her father said quietly. “Else I’ll have to look elsewhere, and MacMurray would except ye at once.”
Evina frowned and lowered her head, her thoughts whirling as she considered everything. Her father was right. Conran had been rather good about her kidnapping him. He’d told her at their picnic that he had no intention of complaining about it to his brothers. And he hadn’t. Her father had. Besides, she could hardly fault him for thinking her an experienced widow. She was the one who had told him she’d been married.
And then, if she considered his perspective, he’d been set up. Really, they both had. Her father had arranged an excuse to send them off on their own, and then sent Gavin to bear witness to force the man to marry her. By all rights, Conran should be stomping about, shouting and screaming about being set up so. Instead, he was willing to marry her.
“I’d rather ye marry the Buchanan, lass,” her father said now. “I think ye could be happy with him, but if it does no’ work as I think ‘twill and ye’re no’ happy . . .”
“We could always kill him,” she suggested.
Her father bent a dry look on her, and shook his head. “’Tis a good thing I ken ye well, and ken that was a joke.”
Evina merely grimaced. It had been a joke . . . mostly.
“Nay, if it does no’ work, ye may no’ have to live with him.”
Evina jerked her head back with surprise. “What?”
“Well, if he proves unkind or unbearable, we can always send him out to live in the hunting lodge on the edge o’ Maclean land.”
“But he thinks he would be yer heir and run Maclean when ye die,” she pointed out.
“I made that offer to Rory Buchanan, no’ Conran, and we have no’ written up the contracts yet. Changes can be made,” he said with a shrug. “I’ll put off writing up the marriage contract for a couple weeks while ye get to ken him.”
“A couple weeks?” Evina asked dubiously, wondering how he would put off the Buchanans for that long.
“Aulay Buchanan said ‘twould probably take that long for his sister and brothers and their mates to get here,” he explained. “They want to hold the wedding until they can all attend.”
“Oh,” Evina said, relaxing a bit. She didn’t have to decide anything right away. She had two weeks to sort out her future. That was something at least.
“I’ll go fetch Donnan to carry ye back to yer room,” he murmured, moving toward the door.
Evina almost told him not to bother and assured him she could manage on her own, but then thought better of it. Getting here with Tildy’s help had been a struggle. Her father was still recovering and couldn’t help her himself, and as much as she hated to admit it, she wouldn’t make it back on her own.
“Oh! Buchanan.”
Evina glanced around at her father’s startled words to see Conran Buchanan framed in the doorway.
Conran nodded solemnly and said, “It occurred to me that Evina might need help getting back to her room when ye’re done talking, so I thought I’d wait out here.”
“Oh, aye.” Her father glanced back at her in question, and Evina sighed, but then nodded. She was supposed to get to know him and she only had two weeks to do it. She may as well start now.
Turning back to the door, her father opened it wider. “Come on in, then. We are done talking and she is no doubt tired.”
Conran nodded, entered the room and crossed to where she sat.
Evina started to get up, but paused and gasped as pain assailed her again. She then released another gasp as Conran scooped her up in his arms, plaid and all.
“Ye should no’ be walking, lass,” he said quietly, cradling her against his chest and turning toward the door. “Ye’ve been sore wounded and need to heal. Ye could be pulling yer stitches out running about like this.”
“I did no’ exactly run here,” Evina pointed out, keeping herself as stiff in his arms as she could.
“Nay, ye did no’,” Conran conceded, nodding to her father as he walked past him.
Evina didn’t respond and they fell silent as he carried her down the hall to her room. But once there, she stiffened even further in his arms and glanced around with a frown. “Me door is open.”
“Aye, I opened it ere I came to stand outside yer father’s room. I thought ‘twould be easier than trying to open it with me arms full, or making ye open it and possibly pull yer stitches,” he explained.
“Oh,” she murmured, thinking that wasn’t just considerate, it showed forethought. Relaxing a little against his chest, she peered at him with curiosity. “How long were ye standing outside the door?”
“No’ long,” he said with a shrug that shifted her slightly against his chest as he crossed the room.
Evina stared up at him silently and then offered a quiet, “Thank ye.”
“Me pleasure,” he responded solemnly as he paused to set her down on her bed.
Conran straightened then and hesitated, uncertainty crossing his face. “Yer wound should be checked.”
Evina stiffened, alarm racing through her. She knew he was the one who had tended her wounds up to now, and then there was the fact that he’d seen her breasts bared before. Still, she felt a great deal of discomfort at the thought of his baring her chest now that she was awake, and not an excited mass in his arms.
“But no’ by me,” Conran added.
Evina let her breath out on a sigh of relief, and then suggested, “Tildy can look at it.”
Much to her surprise, he shook his head. “I’d rather me brother did it.”
“Yer brother Rory . . . the healer,” she added grimly, some of her resentment showing. The man had taken her innocence without even telling her his true name.
Sighing, Conran settled on the edge of the bed and peered at her solemnly. “I ne’er meant to lie to ye. One minute I was cleaning up under the falls after having helped Rory collect medicinals, and the next I was struggling with a stranger, and then knocked out by a beautiful lass with red hair.”
That explained the weeds in his saddlebag that had made her think he was Rory Buchanan, Evina thought unhappily, barely giving notice to his compliment. He’d called her that before, a red-haired beauty, but . . . Well, she just assumed it one of those flowery compliments men were always throwing around to gain something. She had no idea what he hoped to gain. As far as everyone was concerned, she had to marry him. There was no wooing needed.