The Wrong Highlander Read online

  “By accident?” he asked with interest, and when she nodded, he raised his eyebrows. “How does that work?”

  “I do no’ ken,” Evina admitted on a sigh. “I just get tense and tongue-tied, and usually end up insulting the person somehow.”

  “So, if yer father told ye to be unkind to someone, would the opposite be true? Would ye then find it hard no’ to be nice to them?” he queried with amusement.

  Evina smiled faintly at the question, and shrugged. “I do no’ ken. He’s ne’er asked me to be unkind to anyone.”

  “Hmm.” He was silent for a minute and then asked, “How kind were ye supposed to be to me?”

  Evina eyed the innocent expression he was giving her dubiously, and assured him, “No’ that kind. I’m his daughter, no’ the local lightskirt. If that’s what he’d wanted he’d have sent Betsy to yer room.”

  “I do no’ have a room,” he reminded her. “I’ve been sleeping on a pallet in yer father’s room to stay close by in case he needs me.”

  “Oh, aye.” Evina frowned slightly, and then assured him, “I’ll see to arranging a room for ye when we get back. Father’s well enough I should no’ think ye need stay in his room at night anymore.”

  “Thank ye,” he murmured, and then grinned and added, “But do no’ feel ye need send Betsy to me. Me tastes run more to prickly beauties with red hair, than blond amazons with large . . . lungs,” he finished delicately.

  Evina blushed at the compliment and then blinked and speared him with a look. “How did ye ken Betsy was a blond amazon?”

  Conran shrugged and grinned. “She already offered herself to me.”

  “She did no’!” Evina said with amazement.

  “Aye, she did,” he said. “The first night I went below for sup. She offered to be dessert.”

  “She did no’!” Evina gasped out again.

  “She did,” he assured her. “But as I said, I’ve found I prefer red-haired beauties, so I refused her kind offer.”

  Evina stared at him uncertainly, unsure how she was supposed to respond to that. She had red hair, but didn’t consider herself a beauty, and he’d been so stilted and cold around her since that kiss in her father’s room . . . She wasn’t sure why he was suddenly so relaxed and easygoing with her.

  “I thought ye were married.”

  He spoke the words so softly Evina almost missed them. She tilted her head with confusion. “I was. I told ye that.”

  “Aye. But I did no’ realize ye were also widowed,” he explained solemnly. “I thought ye were married still. And that ye kissed me despite having a husband.”

  “I would no’ do that!” she cried with dismay, sitting up straight. “Besides, I did no’ kiss ye, ye kissed me,” she added quickly, feeling her face heat up with a combination of embarrassment and something else as she recalled the kiss in question.

  “Aye, I did. But ye kissed back,” he responded, and Evina blinked as his breath brushed over her cheeks and lips. How had he moved closer without her noticing? He was just inches away now. Close enough to—

  Evina stiffened in surprise when his hand suddenly slid around her neck, his fingers driving up through the hair at the back of her head to cup her scalp. That’s all. He just cupped her head and met her gaze. He continued. “But now that I ken ye’re widowed and would no’ be being unfaithful, I’d really like to kiss ye again.”

  “Please.” Evina had no idea where the word came from. Her brain didn’t send it out. It was like her body had a mind of its own. Or at least her lips did, since they whispered the word. It didn’t matter though. She’d said it, and that was that. The hand at the back of her head pulled, his face came closer and huzzah! His lips were on hers, and it was as wonderful as the last time.

  With pleasure and need rushing through her, Evina opened to him, drinking in the taste of cherries as his tongue slid in. Passion infused her and her body responded as if it had been sleeping for years and was being brought back to life, softening and pressing into him.

  At first, the Buchanan merely kissed her, his lips and tongue dancing with hers, his head slanting one way and then the other, until she was moaning and pressing even closer, her arms creeping around his shoulders.

  Evina wasn’t sure afterward if he lifted her into his lap, or she crawled there herself; she just knew she was desperate to be closer to him and suddenly was. Straddling him on the furs, she ran her hands into his hair, and kissed him desperately, and then gasped into his mouth when he clasped her bottom through the cloth of her gown and shifted her closer, until his hardness was pressing where it could do the most good.

  Holding her tightly there with one hand, the Buchanan suddenly let his other drift up to cover one breast. Evina moaned with pleasure in response, and arched eagerly into the caress even as his hand urged her tighter against his hardness.

  “Aye,” the Buchanan growled as he tore his mouth away, and then he pressed kisses across her cheek to her neck, and Evina gasped and tilted her head. She felt him tugging at the neckline of her gown, and the next thing she knew the cloth suddenly fell off her shoulder, leaving one breast bare. Some part of her mind was shocked, but then his cool hand closed over the warm flesh of one breast and Evina couldn’t stop her moan of pleasure.

  The Buchanan nipped at her neck in response, and then urged her back slightly. Evina glanced down then, and bit her lip as she saw the darker skin of his suntanned hand on the lily-white skin of the breast he’d bared. Her gaze shifted when he then tugged the top of her gown lower to reveal the second breast, and she instinctively arched, her lower body rubbing against his as he claimed that breast with his other hand too.

  “Beautiful,” he growled, squeezing and massaging her flesh until her nipples tightened to two hard points. He then bent his head and claimed one of those points, drawing it into his mouth and teasing it with his tongue until she was writhing in his lap.

  “M’lord, please,” she gasped, her nails digging into the tops of his shoulders. Evina had no idea what she was begging for until one of his hands dropped away and down, only to slide up under her skirts. She was vaguely aware of it drifting up her thigh, but there was so much going on she wasn’t really sure of what he was doing until his fingers glided across the damp flesh at her core.

  Evina cried out in shock and froze, until his fingers began to circle and move back and forth over an area that had never been touched before. She began to shake and shudder then, her body responding despite her shock, and then her hips began to move, her body chasing his teasing caress and the mounting excitement building in her.

  She was vaguely aware of crying out, and murmuring insensible nonsense, but mostly she was clutching his shoulders, and striving toward something she didn’t understand. And then he nipped lightly at the nipple he’d been laving, and something pushed up into her, breaking some tiny thread of need and making her scream and shudder and clench around his hand as her body began to convulse. That’s when he removed his hand, clasped her hips to shift her slightly and brought her down so that something much larger than his fingers pushed up into her, splitting her in half.

  Evina’s pleasure ended on a startled shriek of pain, and her eyes opened in shock as she realized what had just happened. He was inside of her. He’d taken her maiden’s veil. How had it happened? How could it have been so easy and fast? All he’d done was kiss and touch her. She still had her gown on, for heaven’s sake. And he wore his plaid. It shouldn’t be this easy.

  She was awash with so much shock and confusion that it took Evina a moment to realize that she wasn’t the only one who had stilled. The Buchanan too had frozen and, after a moment, pulled back slightly, leaning his upper body away from hers. Aware that he was looking at her, Evina forced her eyes open, and met his gaze.

  “But ye were married,” he said with amazement.

  Evina merely stared at him, incapable of explaining anything just then. She’d just lost her innocence. She was still perched on his cock, for God’s sake. And all
that pleasure she’d chased and so briefly enjoyed was completely gone now, replaced with confusion, fear and regret. Not to mention a sharp pain between her legs that was most unpleasant.

  “Ye’re shaking,” he muttered, suddenly with concern. “Do no’ cry. ’Tis all right.”

  Evina blinked, realizing only then that yes, indeed, tears were leaking from her eyes. And she was trembling. Good Lord, she never cried, and this was certainly no time to act like a ninny, she told herself grimly. So, she’d lost her innocence? She hadn’t been saving it for anyone anyway, Evina reminded herself. She’d already been married and widowed, and her father had promised she could remain unwed and run Maclean until her dying days and then leave it to Gavin. That was the plan.

  This was fine, Evina assured herself. She’d experienced the bedding, learned that she wasn’t missing a thing and could now live out the rest of her days knowing she hadn’t lost out on much by not marrying. Their priest had always said the marriage bed was a trial the woman had to suffer to pay for Eve’s misdeeds. Now she knew it to be true. While she’d experienced a very brief pleasure, it certainly was not worth the pain she was now suffering. Good Lord, had he used his manhood, or was it his sword he’d shoved up inside her?

  “Perhaps . . .” the Buchanan began uncertainly, and then paused and shifted slightly to peer past her.

  “What is it?” Evina asked, glancing over her shoulder. Sitting on top of him as she was, Evina was high enough to see over the grass, but she didn’t see anything alarming.

  “I thought I saw—” He broke off with a curse just as pain punched through her back.

  Suddenly gasping for breath, Evina turned back to him with alarm, and then followed his horrified gaze down to her chest. Much to her bewilderment there was a bloody arrow tip sticking out of her breast, she saw, and then the Buchanan was tumbling them both sideways to the ground.

  Evina landed on her side with a grunt, and took a minute to catch her breath, but she didn’t seem to be able to. Frowning, she opened her eyes to look at Rory, but he was gone. Confused, she glanced around and spotted his feet. They were moving, and there was another pair of feet there, she noted, and then heard the clang of metal against metal and followed the sound up to see that he was in a sword fight with someone.

  He wasn’t half-bad, Evina decided after watching him for a minute. Impressive even, she thought as another man came into view and she realized he was fighting two at once. Not just a healer after all, she acknowledged, and then found her eyes closing.

  Evina blinked them open what she thought was a mere moment later, but it must have been longer than that, because the two men Buchanan had been fighting were now lying unmoving on the ground near her, and the Buchanan was fighting a different man. And there were two other men battling right beside them, she saw. One of them was—

  “Gavin!” Evina cried with alarm as the man her cousin was battling caught him in the arm with his sword tip. She’d meant to scream, but didn’t have the air to manage it. Her voice was barely conversation level. Still, it was enough to make the men stop fighting briefly and glance her way. Evina stared at Gavin’s startled and pain-filled face and shook her head. He couldn’t be there. This had to be a dream, she decided as her eyes closed again.

  The next time her eyes opened, the world was rushing past to the sound of drumming hooves, and the Buchanan was holding her tight to his chest, saying, “Hold on, Evi. We’re almost there.”

  She wanted to ask almost where? Evina also wanted to ask if it had really been Gavin she’d seen, and if he was all right, but her eyes closed again before she could get the words out.

  Chapter 6

  “How is she?”

  Conran glanced up from a sleeping Evina at that question, and watched as Fearghas Maclean hobbled into the room. While the man was up on his feet, walking obviously pained him. But then, half his derriere was missing and just starting to heal. He would be hobbling for a while, Conran thought absently, and then realized the man was waiting anxiously for an answer.

  He shifted his grim gaze back to Evina. Conran had helped Rory clean similar wounds before. Still, he’d wished the other man was here for this one. He’d been very worried he might make a mistake and do her more damage than good. However, everyone had been looking to him to handle it, and that certainly hadn’t been the moment to admit that he was not the great healer Rory Buchanan. He’d done the best he could, but it had been slow, grueling work.

  “I removed the arrow, and cleaned and closed the wound,” he said on a weary sigh, and then shook his head with wonder as he added, “I do no’ ken why, mayhap ’twas the position of the arrow, but she did no’ lose as much blood as I would have expected. I think she’ll be all right.”

  “Thank God,” Fearghas murmured as he reached the bed and dropped to perch his uninjured butt cheek on the side of it. Brushing a strand of hair away from his daughter’s face, he muttered, “I should have let her take her sword.”

  “She ne’er would have got to use her sword, and ’twould no’ have prevented her taking the arrow. That was our first warning there was anything amiss,” Conran told him quietly.

  “Aye, o’ course,” he said unhappily.

  “How is Gavin?” Conran asked, sitting back in his chair.

  “His arm is sore, but he’ll be fine. I sent him to find his bed,” the Maclean murmured. “Tildy cleaned and sewed his wound while ye were busy with Evina. The maid is good with wounds,” he added. “But perhaps ye could take a look when he wakes up to make sure all is well though.”

  Conran smiled wryly, thinking the woman had probably handled more of such wounds than him, but he could hardly say so, and merely nodded. “O’ course.”

  “Thank ye,” Fearghas said quietly. “And thank ye for today.”

  “Today?” Conran asked, unsure what he meant. He’d already thanked him for tending Evina’s wound.

  “For what ye did in the glen,” the Maclean explained. “Gavin said ye were very good with a sword, and took out two of the men yerself almost ere he could get there to help ye.”

  “Oh, aye,” Conran murmured, and then frowned and asked, “What was Gavin doing there?” He’d been more than a little surprised when the man had appeared out of nowhere to help him with the bandits that had beset them.

  The Maclean just shook his head, and caressed Evina’s cheek. “He and Evina are all I have o’ true value in this world and I nearly lost them today.”

  They were both silent for a minute and then Fearghas glanced to him and suggested, “Why do ye no’ go have something to eat and then find yer bed too? Ye’ve missed a lot o’ sleep o’ late tending to me. I’ll look after her. Ye need yer rest.”

  Conran hesitated. He’d rather stay and watch over Evina, but he was tired . . . and food would not go amiss. Still—

  “Evina’s marriage to the MacPherson?” he said abruptly, and then paused, unsure how to proceed. He wanted to know how she could possibly have been married and never bedded. How she had retained her maiden’s veil. But he could hardly ask outright without revealing how he’d discovered she’d still had her maiden’s veil, and that he’d taken it in the clearing before they were attacked.

  “What about it?” Fearghas asked. “I told ye she was married and he died.”

  “Aye.” Conran frowned.

  “MacPherson,” the Maclean murmured now, and shook his head. “She’s carried the name since she was wed at ten, but that’s something I forget too. I still think of her as Maclean like me,” he admitted, his lips twisting. “She’ll always be Evina Maclean to me.”

  Conran glanced to him sharply and asked with disbelief, “Ten? She was married at ten years old?”

  “’Twas in name only,” Fearghas said, waving away his outrage.

  Conran raised his eyebrows.

  “Me son had died two years earlier,” he explained. “It left Evina as me only heir, which meant her husband would rule Maclean when I died. She’d been betrothed to the MacPherson’s secon
d oldest boy, Collin, since birth. So, when he reached the age where he would be sent away for training, I wanted him to take that training here at Maclean. I was hoping ’twould allow him to get to ken the people, and how Maclean works,” he explained. “So that our people would have his loyalty once he took over.”

  “Smart,” Conran murmured when the man paused briefly.

  “I thought so at the time, but that fine idea gained me nothing and cost me much in the end,” the Maclean said wearily, and scrubbed one hand over his wrinkled face. “Anyway, the MacPherson was fine with that, but he was ailing and did no’ expect to see the end of the year. He wanted the wedding to take place while he was still alive to see it, so part of the deal for Collin to come to Maclean was that the two should marry first. At MacPherson.”

  “But if Evina was only ten . . .” Conran frowned and pointed out, “The legal age for a lass to marry is twelve.”

  “Aye.” Fearghas nodded. “We had to get special permission from the king and the church. ’Twas allowed with the proviso that the wedding was no’ to be consummated until she turned twelve.”

  “But the MacPherson lad did no’ live that long,” Conran guessed. He hadn’t been mistaken. He’d definitely taken Evina’s innocence. Dear God. And he hadn’t done it gently. Had he known, he would have gone more slowly, prepared her better and—What was he thinking? Had he known she was an innocent, he would have let her be. Good God! He’d taken her innocence!

  “How did ye ken the MacPherson boy died ere consummating the marriage?” the Maclean asked, one eyebrow arched.

  Conran stiffened and then shook his head helplessly. He had no answer he was willing to give and didn’t have the wit at that moment to come up with a lie.

  Fortunately, the Maclean didn’t press him. Instead, he said, “Aye. He drowned just days after the wedding. On the journey back to Maclean, in fact. He ne’er even saw the home I hoped he’d rule.”