Dear God, she hated him for it, Evina admitted to herself.
And she loved him, she acknowledged grimly.
And that was why she’d lied to herself. Evina loved him for the father he’d been before her mother’s death, and hated him for the weak, helpless man he’d become when her mother had died, and the burdens that had placed on her young shoulders. It shouldn’t have been like that. Conran certainly wouldn’t have fallen apart as her father had. He’d have dragged himself from his bed and done what needed doing. She was sure of it. And if he hadn’t, his brothers and Saidh would have descended on him and dragged him from his bed and made him do it, helping him fight his way through his grief until he could manage on his own.
Her father hadn’t had brothers and sisters like the Buchanans though, Evina acknowledged. Instead, he’d had one sister who had arrived on his doorstep a few short months later, dying. Another sorrow to pile on top of his grief. And then she’d left Gavin in his care, adding another burden to Evina’s shoulders. Not that she minded. Gavin had been the only bright spot in her life at that point. He might even have been her saving grace. She’d had to continue for him.
And that was the hell of it, Evina thought unhappily. She’d often wanted to give up and spend her days moping and weeping over what she’d lost as her father did, but hadn’t been able to because of Gavin, and the people of Maclean. She’d had to be strong for them. Her father, however, hadn’t done that. Not for them, and not for his own daughter.
“Bloody hell,” Evina muttered, giving her head a shake. This was her wedding day. It was no time for soul searching and dealing with issues that couldn’t be resolved. There was nothing that could be done to change the past. It was over. Now was the time to look to the future, and her future was the man she was going to marry. Conran.
Evina breathed out slowly, just the thought of him calming her somewhat. Aye, Conran was nothing like her father. He would not let her down. And if he did, Saidh would help her kick his arse, she thought, and smiled.
Tildy was right. She was marrying into a large family who put their family first. They would be there, not just for Conran, but for her now too. As well as for any children they had, she thought, and decided then that Conran had the right of it. They should have a lot of children, seven or eight like Conran’s parents had had. That way, if she and Conran died, they would all have each other to depend on.
Smiling faintly, she peered down at the skirts of the lovely gown she wore, recalling Geordie’s and Alick’s reactions to seeing her in it.
The day ye mistook Conran fer Rory was the luckiest day o’ his life, m’lady. Ye’re absolutely stunning , Geordie had said, and Evina wondered if Conran would agree. Was he glad they were going to wed? Her father had pretty much tricked and trapped him into this marriage.
Evina smiled wryly at the thought. After years of leaving her to fend for herself, Fearghas Maclean had suddenly recalled he was her father and tried to see to her future. She may have fought him on it, but would have to give him credit for that. He’d chosen a fine time to do it, and a fine man to see her married to. Because she certainly felt lucky that she’d brought the wrong Highlander home and was going to marry him. Had she brought Rory home that day, as intended . . . well, he was nice enough, and no doubt family was as important to him as the rest of the Buchanans, but Evina really didn’t think the healer’s temperament would suit hers. Not that she’d set out to bring back the Buchanan healer with marriage in mind. In fact, that had been the furthest thing from her thoughts at the time. But she was glad now that she was marrying Conran. He was a man she knew she could depend on.
He also made the bedding a pleasure she couldn’t imagine experiencing with anyone else. All the man had to do was look at her with that hungry expression he got, and she began to tingle in places that had never tingled before. And once he kissed or touched her? Forget everything else. She was lost. Evina became nothing more than a mass of trembling need and desire, ready to lie down and spread her legs for him.
Aye, she’d got the right Highlander in the end. She liked him, respected him, found pleasure with him and . . . She might even love him, Evina admitted solemnly to herself. Certainly, if she didn’t already, she was headed that way. She was beginning to find it hard to imagine life without him, and certainly couldn’t begin to envision sharing her life and body with anyone else.
Aye, she probably loved him, Evina acknowledged, and then grimaced at herself for her cowardice, and admitted that aye, she did love Conran Buchanan. He was a good man, a strong man, a brave man, and intelligent. But he was also gentle, and patient and kind. She loved him and wanted him, and was eagerly looking forward to being his wife, she acknowledged, and then stilled when she heard a shuffling sound behind her. It was much like the sound she’d heard just before someone had tried to drown her in her bath.
But the passage entrances were all locked now, Evina reminded herself. It must be mice this time, she reassured herself. Still, she started to turn to see what was causing the sound . . . and then paused halfway, jerked back around to face the door when a knock sounded.
Shaking her head at how jumpy she was, Evina called out, “Enter,” and stood up to brush her skirts down as the door opened.
Evina half expected it to be her father come to collect her. But since her feelings about that man were presently somewhat muddled, she was relieved when Gavin stepped inside.
“Ye look beautiful, cousin,” he said with a combination of awe and pride as he closed the door and looked her over.
“Thank ye,” Evina murmured, shifting uncomfortably under the praise, and then to change the subject, she asked, “Is everything all right? I was waiting for Da to come get me.”
“Aye. Uncle Fearghas sent me to fetch ye down. He’s a bit tender at the moment and didn’t think he could manage the stairs,” Gavin explained.
Some voice in Evina’s mind pointed out that he was failing her again, but she pushed it away. The past was the past, she reminded herself firmly.
“Ye were no’ planning to run away, were ye?” Gavin asked suddenly.
Evina dragged herself from her thoughts to peer at him with confusion. Her bewilderment showed in her voice when she asked, “What?”
When Gavin raised his eyebrows and gestured behind her, Evina turned and saw that the entrance to the passage was open. She stared at it with shock. It hadn’t been open when the women were here, or while Tildy was cleaning. They would have noticed. And it shouldn’t be open now. Her father had locked down the passages from the inside. No one should have been able to open it from the passage.
“I thought ye wanted to marry Conran?” Gavin said behind her, and she could hear the frown in his voice.
“Aye,” Evina breathed, and then moved quickly toward the opening, intending to close and lock it. She’d then have Gavin fetch Conran and the others to search the passages again. The attacker was obviously in there. At least, that was her thinking. But she never made it to the entrance. Evina had barely taken a step past the bed when movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. She started to turn, but was too slow. Even as she spotted the tall, balding man in a semiclean plaid raising up from his crouched position on this side of the bed, he was grabbing her arm and dragging her up against his chest.