hurt too with the effort, but she added, “Ye did no’ shoot the arrow.”
“Nay, no’ for that,” he said on a sigh. “For what happened ere that.”
“Oh,” Evina said weakly, flushing as she recalled what he was referring to. The very brief experience that had started as all passion and pleasure and very quickly ended in pain and regret.
“I thought ye an experienced widow who would enjoy a dalliance,” he explained apologetically. “I had no idea ye yet retained yer innocence.”
She stared at him blankly. He’d thought she’d enjoy a dalliance? What did that mean? The answer seemed obvious enough. His only interest had been in bedding her a time or two while here, and then he’d planned to ride off back to Buchanan, or somewhere else to dally with some other widow or such. She was just another Betsy to him . . . to be bedded and left behind.
Evina supposed she shouldn’t be surprised. They hardly knew each other, and her behavior had hardly demanded respectful treatment. She never should have let him even kiss her, let alone touch and suckle her breast, and she should have slapped him silly the minute she felt his hand under her skirts. Instead, she’d moaned and pleaded and egged him on, eager to experience what he was offering.
Well, Evina thought grimly, she’d had her experience, and a terrible disappointment it had been too. Not that she hadn’t found pleasure, but it had been so fleeting it was hardly worth the pain that had followed, or the self-disgust and regret she felt now.
“Evi?”
She peered down at his hand as he clasped hers and then tugged her hand free. She had no interest in listening to his false apologies. He wasn’t sorry for what he’d done, so much as for the fact that she hadn’t been the experienced woman he’d thought her. He was just scared she would demand something of him, marriage perhaps, to satisfy her honor. But Evina had no interest in marrying him . . . or anyone else for that matter. She just wanted him to go away so she could forget this whole, awful experience.
“Evina?” he said now with concern.
“’Tis fine,” she murmured huskily, unable to even look at him. “’Twas a lesson learned. I am fine. Just tired. I’d like to sleep now.”
A surprised silence followed, but Evina didn’t look at him. She just wanted him to go. Unfortunately, he didn’t appear to be of the same mind.
“I’m afraid we have to talk about this,” he said quietly. “I took yer innocence.”
Evina shifted impatiently. “I’m aware o’ that, m’lord. I was there. But ’tis fine. I was no’ planning to marry again anyway, and I certainly would no’ now that I ken how unpleasant the marriage bed would be.”
The abrupt way he jerked upright drew her gaze around and she noted his expression. He couldn’t have looked more pained had she actually slapped him. Her words had obviously hurt his pride. Apparently, he’d thought the experience would be pleasurable for her. She couldn’t imagine why. Everyone knew only the man found pleasure in the bedding.
“Evina,” he began with a frown, and then paused and glanced toward the door as it opened.
“Oh, Lord Buchanan, ye are in here,” Tildy said with surprise. “The laird said ye probably would be, but I felt sure ye’d be in yer room. When I didn’t find ye there though, I—”
“Is there something ye wanted, Tildy?” Evina interrupted quietly, hoping the maid would take the Buchanan away and save her from any more of this humiliating conversation. She just wanted to forget the whole thing. Why wouldn’t he just go away and let her? she wondered, and then became aware of the stunned silence in the room, and focused on the maid to see her gaping at her, a combination of joy and surprise on her face. The moment their gazes met though, the woman rushed forward.
“Oh, m’lady! Ye’re awake! Thank the saints!”
“Aye, she is,” the Buchanan said on a sigh as the old servant reached the bed, and bent to hug Evina. “She just woke up, in fact. And could probably use something to drink. Do ye think ye could fetch her some mead?”
“Aye,” Tildy said, straightening and whirling back toward the door, only to stop after a couple of steps and spin back. “Oh! The laird sent me to fetch ye, Lord Buchanan. He wishes to see ye.”
“Fine,” he said grimly.
When the maid remained where she was, waiting, he glanced back