“Oh, Lord Buchanan.” She met his gaze anxiously as he stopped before her. “Is m’lady all right?”
“Aye,” Conran assured her. “She is fine. I just wanted to ask ye, did ye recognize the man trying to drown yer lady?”
“Nay,” she said at once.
“So, he was no one ye ken?” he asked with relief.
Tildy shook her head, and then frowned and added, “Well . . . he maybe did look a bit familiar. But I did no’ get a good look. His back was to me.”
“How was he familiar, then?” Conran asked, and when she frowned, he suggested, “Describe him to me.”
“Well, he was big, but no’ big like Donnan, big like Gavin,” she explained, and then added, “And he had long dark hair like Gavin, and . . .” She shook her head. “I really did no’ get a good look at him.”
“Could it have been Gavin?” Conran asked quietly.
“Oy!” Gavin said with shock, moving through the crowd to stand next to them, but Conran ignored him, his attention on Tildy. The maid had flinched away from the suggestion as if he’d struck her in the face.
“Oh, nay!” she cried with dismay. “He’d ne’er hurt m’lady. Why, she’s like a mother and sister all rolled into one to him.”
“Aye, she is,” Gavin said grimly. “I’d sooner die than hurt Evina. She and me uncle are me only family. They took me in as a boy and raised me. How could ye think I’d hurt her?”
“Because you, the Maclean and Evina are the only ones who kenned about the passage,” Conran said unapologetically.
Gavin frowned, but before he could respond, Tildy said stoutly, “Well, someone else must ken about them, then, because I am positive ’twas no’ Gavin.”
Conran turned back to scowl at her. “Ye can’t be positive. Ye just said he was the same size and had the same hair as Gavin and ye didn’t see his face.”
“Aye, but the man’s hair was greasy and matted and his clothes filthy and ratty,” Tildy argued, and shook her head. “’Twas no’ Gavin.”
Conran didn’t argue the point further. Gavin didn’t have matted hair, and his plaid and shirt were clean. The attacker hadn’t been Gavin.
“Ye didn’t truly believe I’d hurt Evina, did ye, Uncle Fearghas?” Gavin asked now, and Conran swung around to see that not only the Maclean, but Aulay and Rory too, had followed him out into the hall.
“I’m sorry, lad,” the Maclean said now with true regret. “I should have known it couldn’t be you. But as far as I ken, you, me and Evina are all that kenned about the passages. I couldn’t think who else it could be. I still can’t. No one else should ken about them.”
Gavin relaxed a bit, but assured him, “I told no one about them.”
The Maclean grimaced, but nodded and glanced to Conran to say, “We can sort out how the bastard kenned about the passages after we catch him.”
“Aye. We’d best go find him, then,” Conran said grimly, and grabbed the lit torch in the holder on the wall next to him.
Nodding, the Maclean turned to head back into Evina’s room. Rory and Aulay followed, but Aulay grabbed the torch from the other side of the door as he did.
Conran was halfway across the room to the passage entrance when he spotted Evina. She’d wrapped the plaid around herself like a toga, and was out of bed, dragging a gown out of the chest at the foot of her bed. The stubborn woman was still healing from a chest wound, and had nearly been drowned, but he had no doubt she’d intended to dress herself and join them in the hall to defend her cousin.
Conran didn’t know whether to shake her for putting someone else’s well-being ahead of her own, or kiss her for being a woman who was strong and loyal and didn’t hesitate to protect the people she loved. He suspected it was a quandary he’d experience often in the years ahead.
Shaking his head, Conran started toward her, and then paused and peered down at the torch he held.
“I’ll hold it for ye,” Rory said quietly, taking the torch from him.
“Thank ye,” he murmured, and then hurried to Evina and scooped her up.
Caught by surprise, she squawked in alarm and dropped the gown she’d just pulled out of the chest. She also formed a fist and pulled her hand back, ready to plow him one, but stopped when she saw it was him.