was cutting too deep. At least, she hoped not. But noting the anxious way Gavin was eyeing her neck, she began to wonder. Mayhap he was cutting deep. Mayhap there was more blood than she realized, and it just didn’t hurt much because of the situation. Mayhap she was dying as she stood there.
The thought was an alarming one. Evina didn’t want to die. Especially not now. Not when things were just starting to get good. She was about to marry Conran, a man she was quite sure she probably loved . . . maybe. Coward, she thought, and then admitted that aye, she did love the man. And was not that just her luck? Evina thought. To find a man she liked, respected and loved, and then die before she could enjoy it and have a life and children with him?
Well, she’d enjoyed it a bit, Evina supposed. Certainly, she’d at least experienced the pleasure he gave her with his mouth and hands, and yes, even his cock. While that first time in the clearing she had definitely not been a fan of what his manhood could do, she had since learned it was really quite wonderful. It was also apparently quite sizable, she’d learned while talking with the other women at the table this afternoon before Conran had returned. And had that not been an amusing discussion?
Aye, she definitely must be dying, Evina decided. There was no other explanation for why she was standing there rhapsodizing over Conran’s cock when she had a murderous villain at her back, and a knife to her throat.
“Do ye want something fer it?” Gavin asked suddenly, rushing the words out and moving another step closer. She suspected by his anxious expression that it was an effort to get his father to stop sawing through her neck.
“Nay, o’ course no’. ’Tis all fer you,” the MacLeod said at once, but then added in a wheedling tone, “O’ course, with ye having two fine keeps, surely ye can find a little room in one of them fer me, eh? A room o’ me own to live out me dying days in warmth and comfort, with whiskey to warm me belly and a young maid in me bed. That’d be grand after so many years sleeping in the cold and going without. And it seems a fair enough payment fer giving ye so much.”
Evina had been watching Gavin as the man spoke, and twice he’d glanced slowly down to her side and back. The third time he did it was as the MacLeod fell silent and awaited his response. That was when she finally realized he was trying to send her a message. She couldn’t see what her cousin was looking at, but her hands were free. Reaching cautiously down with her left hand. she moved it around and then blinked in surprise when her fingers brushed up against cold metal. The MacLeod had stepped back and to the side each time Gavin had moved forward, and he’d dragged her with him. It seemed they were now standing right next to the fireplace, because Evina was quite sure what her hand had encountered was the poker that hung from a hook to the side of the fireplace.
Moving cautiously, she slipped it off the hook and grasped it firmly and then tried to decide the best way to use it. Jab it into his leg? Swing it over her head and hopefully hit his? Bend her arm, and jam it back into his stomach? She really wasn’t quite sure which was least likely to get her throat slit. All of them seemed rather risky. On the other hand, not doing anything would definitely see her throat slit. There was no way Gavin could prevent it, and sooner or later the MacLeod was just going to do it.
“Well?” the MacLeod snapped impatiently, and took the knife away from her throat to point it at Gavin angrily. “Ye’re a damned fool if ye do no’ listen to me. Now answer me, dammit!” he barked, and started to bring the knife back, only to howl in pain when Evina quickly shifted her hold on the poker, bent her arm and jammed the pointed tip back into his stomach.
The MacLeod released her at once to grab his stomach, and Evina leapt away toward her cousin, who promptly pulled her behind him and faced his father. Hurrying to her chest, Evina grabbed her sword and then whirled to rush back to