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 second 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