Standing beside the bed, Conran stretched happily, and then moved to the ewer on the small table by the window and quickly washed himself down, his mind moving on to what he had to do today. Talk to her father about the contracts was first. Once that was out of the way, he intended to look into this business of her attacker. He’d finally convinced the lass to marry him. He wasn’t going to risk losing her now to the man who had tried to drown her and then disappeared.
Conran frowned as his thoughts turned to that matter. Geordie had said Aulay and Laird Maclean had failed to catch up to the bastard. After the fact, he could see the mistakes they’d made. The delay in even entering the passage to begin with was a big one. But the man hadn’t used that delay to make his escape. Instead, he’d somehow got around behind them and stabbed him. Why? What had he been doing while they were talking and then questioning Tildy again?
Shaking his head, Conran finished his cleanup and quickly pulled on his shirt, grimacing at the stench of it. It was the same shirt he’d had with him at the waterfall and that Gavin had brought back for him. It, and the now-bloody plaid, were the only clothes he had here. Unfortunately, not one of his brothers had thought to bring some of his clothes along to Maclean. And while Tildy had mentioned fetching him clothes twice now, she hadn’t carried out the promise either time.
His gaze slid to the bloody plaid. It lay in a crumpled heap by the table. Crossing the room, he bent to pick it up and grimaced when it remained in the crumpled heap as he lifted it up. The blood had dried, turning it into a twisted statue. He definitely wasn’t wearing that.
Dropping it with disgust, he walked to the door and opened it. Geordie and Alick were no longer asleep on the floor. In fact, neither of them were there now. Instead, Rory and Dougal stood outside the door, talking quietly, but that ended the moment he appeared.
Both brothers looked him up and down with interest, but it was Dougall who arched his brow and said, “I think ye may have forgotten something, Con. Ye might want to go back inside and try dressing again.”
“Afraid Murine will see me and realize she married the wrong brother?” Conran taunted, mostly because he knew it would annoy him. It still bothered Dougall that he, Geordie and Alick had all been ready to marry the lass had he not claimed her. Although Conran only admitted it after the fact, he would have married the lass to save her from her brother too. He was glad now that had never been necessary. Evina was the woman for him.
“How is yer back?” Rory asked in an attempt to drag his attention away from Dougall.
Satisfied at the scowl now on Dougall’s face, Conran turned his gaze to Rory and said, “Fine. ’Twas barely more than a scratch.”
“Aye. A scratch,” Rory muttered, rolling his eyes. “Turn around and let me look at it.”
“Nay,” Conran growled, waving him off. “’Tis fine. Ye can look at it later when I take me bath.”
“Fine,” Rory said with exasperation, and then arched his eyebrows. “So, why are ye standing about in naught but yer shirt?”
“Oh.” Conran glanced down at his shirt. “Me plaid is unwearable. It dried bloody in a heap.”
“Ah,” Rory said with a grimace, not needing further explanation. They all knew what happened to any cloth when soaked in blood and left to dry. It grew hard and stiff. “I brought a spare plaid with me. I’ll go fetch it.”
“Thank ye,” Conran murmured, and watched him hurry away down the hall to the room he now shared with both Geordie and Alick. Turning back to Dougall then, he commented, “Ye took over guarding the door for Geordie and Alick?”
“Aye. They went below to break their fast,” Dougall said, and then added, “And Murine and I’ll stay until the trouble here is resolved.”
“Thank ye,” Conran said with solemn sincerity.
Dougall shrugged. “Ye helped me keep me Murine safe when we had our troubles. The least I can do is return the favor and help ye keep yer lass safe.”
“Land sakes, I’ve ne’er met a man who so much enjoyed strutting around naked or half-naked.”
Conran glanced toward the stairs at that to see Tildy stepping onto the landing. Despite her disgusted words, he couldn’t help noticing that she was perusing his naked legs with a rather lascivious interest. It wasn’t the first time he’d caught her eyeing his nakedness like a dirty old woman. It was enough to make him think this was exactly why she kept “forgetting” to bring him a clean plaid. That thought in mind, he arched an eyebrow and said, “I’m no’ naked. I’m wearing me smelly old shirt. The same smelly old shirt I’ve worn every day since arriving here. The only reason I’m no’ also wearing me smelly old plaid too is because it was soaked in blood and left to dry in a pile and is now stuck in that shape. Rory’s fetching me one of his plaids to borrow.”
Tildy stopped and scowled at him with surprise. “Well, why the devil didn’t ye just ask him to fetch back the clean shirt and plaid I set in yer room yester morn? No doubt it’s still there since ye ne’er returned to collect it, but slept in me sweet innocent young lady’s room as if ye had a right to.”
“Now, now, Tildy,” Dougall said mildly. “As everyone explained to ye last night, Evina’s room was the best place for him. It made it easier to guard them both, and his presence would help deter another attack. Besides, Conran was stabbed yesterday and no doubt incapable of being a threat to yer lady’s virtue.”
“He was to sleep on a pallet, no’ in her bed,” Tildy snapped, and then eyeing Conran, she added dryly, “And he looks capable enough to me.”
“Mayhap, but even so, me brother would ne’er take advantage of an ailing lass in her sickbed . Would ye, brother?” Dougall said dryly, reminding him of a certain fistfight that had started between them over Murine.
Much to Conran’s relief, Rory saved him from replying by reappearing then, hurrying from his room with a fresh plaid.
“Ye can take that back, Lord Rory,” Tildy said at once on seeing him. “I brought Lord Conran a plaid and shirt yester morn and left them on his bed. I’ll just fetch them now.”
“Isn’t his bedchamber our bedchamber now?” Dougall asked with a frown and the maid stopped and glanced back with realization.
“Oh, aye. I forgot we put ye and yer wife in there,” she said with surprise, and then added, “I’m sure ye moved the shirt and plaid. If ye’ll tell me where to, ‘twill save my searching.”
“There was no plaid or shirt on the bed,” Dougall said with a shake of the head.
“Oh.” Tildy blinked, and then smiled faintly and said, “Well, no doubt yer lady wife saw it when she got there and moved it ere ye reached the room. I’ll just—”
“Me wife and I went to the room together when we were shown to it,” Dougall interrupted as she started to turn away again. “There was no plaid or shirt to move.”
“Are ye sure?” she asked, looking flummoxed.
“Quite sure,” Dougall assured the maid.
Tildy stood still for a moment, confusion and frustration flittering across her face until Rory said gently, “A lot happened yesterday, Tildy. Mayhap ye meant to take it up and put it on the bed, but ne’er got around to it.”