“Oh,” Evina murmured with a frown, and then accepted the broth. She hadn’t really noticed that the man was swinging his sword back in preparation of a killing blow. Just that he’d wounded her cousin.
“After that,” Conran continued as he collected more broth with the spoon, “Gavin seemed to regather himself more quickly than the bandit and managed to get his sword back up before the man could strike the killing blow. The fellow just turned and fled then,” he told her solemnly. “Donnan has sent men out to the woods every day to hunt for the one that got away, but so far there has been no sight of him. Or any other bandits, for that matter,” he murmured, concentrating on his task.
“Was Gavin badly hurt?” she asked between spoonfuls.
“Nay. He got lucky. ’Twas a mild wound at best,” he assured her solemnly. “He’s back to practicing in the yard with the other men.”
“Already?” Evina asked with surprise.
Conran nodded. “Donnan is taking it easy on him, but aye.”
“Oh, good,” she murmured, but shook her head when he held out more broth. “I am full.”
Conran glanced down at what remained of the broth, and then smiled slightly as he set the full spoon back in. “Ye did well. There is little left. ’Tis a good sign, I think.”
Evina watched him set the broth back on the side table, but shook her head when he tapped the mead and raised an eyebrow in question.
“No’ right now, thank ye,” she murmured.
Nodding, he left the mead and stood to pace the room. “I am sorry.”
Now that she’d had something to eat and drink, Evina found herself weary, and her eyes had been drifting closed when he spoke. Now they popped open. “What for?”
“For . . . everything,” Conran said wryly after a hesitation.
Evina was silent for a minute as she watched him pace. As promised, he hadn’t mentioned the events in the field, but that was still included in his apology, she knew, and felt sure he deserved whatever guilt he was suffering that had brought out yet another apology. But then she recalled her father’s words about how he’d been good about being kidnapped and such, and she sighed and said, “I should apologize too.”
When he stopped pacing to peer at her with surprise, she pointed out, “I kidnapped ye and brought ye here in the first place.”
“’Twas no’ a kidnapping,” he reminded her with a crooked smile.
Evina smiled despite herself and shook her head. “Aye, it was. Or ‘twould have been if ye’d been conscious and refused to come to help me father. I was that desperate to see him healed.”
Understanding softened his expression, and he shrugged. “But I was no’ conscious. And ye could no’ just leave me there, naked, defenseless and unconscious by the river. So . . . ye were saving me too. Thank ye for that, by the way.”
“I’m the one who knocked ye unconscious,” Evina reminded him with amusement, and when he merely shrugged, she added, “And then there is me father.”
“Hmm. Aye. He was a difficult patient,” Conran commented. “The man is testy, and impatient with being ill now that he’s feeling a little better, but I would hardly blame ye for that.”
“I meant for his trapping us the way he has,” she said with exasperation.
Conran was silent for a moment as he continued to pace, and then he peered at her solemnly. “Did ye ken what he was up to when we rode out?”
“Nay,” Evina assured him quietly. “I only realized what he’d done after Tildy came to fetch ye and said yer brothers were here, and then told me that Da was the only one to send out a message.” Meeting his gaze, she added, “I would no’ have been a party to it had I realized what he was up to ere we rode out that day.”
“Because ye do no’ wish to marry me?” he asked solemnly.
“Because I did no’ wish to marry any man,” she corrected, and he moved back to the bed to peer down at her face with interest.
“Why?”
Evina shrugged uncomfortably. “I was married already. I did no’ like it.”
“Evi, ye were married for three days at ten years old and in name only,” he pointed out with exasperation. “What was there to dislike?”
Evina lowered her gaze to the coverings he’d pulled up over her, and began to pluck at the fur on the top one. “Me husband told me on the first day of the journey back that as his wife I had to do anything he told me to,” she said quietly. “After which he produced a worm he’d been saving in his pocket, and ordered me to eat it.”
“The little bugger,” Conran said with wonder. “What did ye do?”
“Punched him in the face,” she admitted.
Conran grinned. “Good for you.”
“No’ so good,” Evina assured him. “I was punished for it. Me da gave me a good whipping,” she added. “And I was told that aye, technically a wife had to do as her husband said. But I could refuse to eat worms and, by rights, he could no’ punish me for it until I was twelve and the wedding was consummated.”
“Hmm.” He frowned.
“Collin, me husband,” she explained, unsure he knew his name, “he apparently did no’ ken about his no’ being able to punish me until the marriage was consummated. On the second day of the journey, he hit me when I refused to eat a wormy apple.”
“What was his fascination with worms?” Conran asked with disgust.
Evina shrugged with bewilderment. It was beyond her. She’d never seen the attraction herself, but said, “’Twas no’ just worms. He drowned because he was trying to catch a fish to make me eat raw.”
“Yer father said he was fetching water,” Conran said with surprise.
Evina shook her head. “That’s what Father tells people, but in fact, Colin was standing on a log, dipping a bucket in to try to catch a fish.”
Conran grunted with disgust. “It sounds like yer husband was a spoiled brat.”
“Aye,” she muttered.
“But he was a lad, Evina,” he added quietly. “I am no’.”
“Me uncle was no’ a lad,” Evina said solemnly.
Conran stilled, and asked with confusion. “Yer uncle?”
“Gavin’s father, Garrick MacLeod,” she explained quietly. “He beat me aunt Glenna to death for displeasing him somehow.”
Conran sat back with dismay. “That is how Gavin came to be here?”
“And Donnan,” Evina murmured. “He was Garrick’s first. He’d pledged his fealty to both me uncle Garrick on accepting the position, and to me aunt Glenna when she married me uncle. But Donnan had to choose between them in the end.”
“And he chose yer aunt,” Conran murmured.
Evina shrugged. “Donnan’s own father had been free with his fists when drinking. There is nothing he hates more than a man who enacts violence against women and children. After years of suspecting me uncle’s doings, he saw him at it with the last beating and that was the final straw. He decided his loyalty was to me aunt. He bundled them up, me aunt Glenna and Gavin both, and brought them here to Maclean in hopes me father could keep them safe from me uncle. Me aunt did no’ live more than an hour after arriving here, just long enough to tell me father what had happened and to beg him to look out for Gavin and ne’er let his father get him back.”