“No’ got that far yet, eh?” he asked.

  “Nay,” Conran growled, moving forward again and pushing the door closed behind him. “What did ye want, Aulay?”

  “Just to warn ye that Saidh and Greer arrived while ye were about yer business with Evina,” he said solemnly. “I expected them to be the last to arrive, but Geordie rode out to pass on the news o’ yer nuptials and they left at once to ride here with him, so ye may no’ have the two weeks as I first thought.”

  “What?” Conran asked with alarm.

  Aulay shrugged apologetically and stood up. “I’m sure Dougall and Niels and their wives’ll no’ be far behind, so ye may want to speed up yer efforts with Evina while ye can.”

  “Damn,” Conran breathed as his oldest brother left the room. He’d thought he still had a week and a couple days to manage the situation. It seemed likely though that if Saidh and Greer had already managed to get here, he only had a couple of days left, at best. He seriously needed to move matters along with Evina.

  He’d take the next step after sup this evening, Conran thought grimly. From kissing to touching. But first he needed to tend to himself or he’d be hard-pressed not to move it along faster than he planned.

  “Lady MacDonnell seems an interesting woman. Laird Conran’s sister, Saidh, married Greer MacDonell,” Tildy explained when Evina looked confused, and then continued, “She seems a lot like you. No’ dainty and fussy like a lot o’ the ladies o’ the nobility. She carries a sword as ye do, and I’m quite sure I spotted the bottom o’ braies peeking out from under her skirts as she sat down. She asked to come see ye, and I said I’d check to see if ye were awake. So . . .” Tildy paused, and raised her eyebrows. “Are ye up to meeting yer soon-to-be sister-in-law?”

  Evina opened her mouth, closed it again and then sighed and started to sit up.

  “Let me help ye, lass.” Tildy rushed forward at once, but Evina waved her away.

  “I can manage, Tildy. Thank ye,” she murmured, shifting the pillows and furs back into place behind her back to lean against. Her wound wasn’t as painful as it had been at first and her breathing was much improved. She was actually feeling well enough that she was beginning to chafe at being stuck in her bed all the day long, and was thinking she may go below stairs the next day. Or mayhap tonight for the sup. If they had company, she should really make an effort to be a proper hostess.

  “Ye’re looking better,” Tildy commented out of the blue, and when Evina glanced at the maid with surprise, she said, “Ye’ve got some color in yer cheeks and seem more . . . I do no’ ken . . . relaxed?” she suggested.

  Evina felt her cheeks heat up at the words, knowing exactly what had brought about the color and her relaxed state. Conran’s “kisses.” Dear God, the man was . . . well, one hell of a kisser. Her body was still giving off little intermittent pulses of something that wasn’t quite pleasure now, but like an aftershock, and her limbs were all shaky and quivering still. Yet it had to be a quarter hour since Conran had left.

  “I’ll bring up some mead, and mayhap some pastries fer the two o’ ye if Cook has any, shall I?” Tildy suggested as she watched Evina rearrange her furs to cover the tunic she’d redonned just before Tildy had arrived.

  “Aye, I suppose,” Evina murmured, frowning as she felt an unusual nervousness beginning to creep over her. She had no idea why she was suddenly nervous. Evina had never before been a shy lass when it came to meeting people. But then this was Conran’s sister, who might actually become her sister-in-law if things continued as they were going. Conran’s “kisses” had gone a long way toward convincing her that perhaps the marriage bed was not the trial and chore she’d thought it must be after her experience in the field. She wasn’t completely convinced, but truly, she was leaning that way.

  “I’ll go tell her ye’re awake and happy to see her,” Tildy announced once Evina was situated.

  “Thank ye.” Evina managed a smile, and watched the woman leave, then sat and watched the door anxiously. She didn’t have long to wait. Conran’s sister must have been waiting in the hall, for it seemed that Tildy had barely closed the door behind her before it opened again and a beautiful, dark-haired woman swaggered in. That was the only way to describe it. Saidh Buchanan MacDonnell did not take mincing, little, ladylike steps as most noble females did. She strutted into the room, hips swaying, and the sword strapped to her waist swaying with them.

  “Ye must be Conran’s Evina!” was her greeting, and it was accompanied by a wide grin. “I’m here to give ye all the dirt on him, so ye can blackmail him as needs be.”

  Evina’s eyes widened at the words, and she reached up weakly to pat the other woman’s back when she stopped at the bedside and bent to hug her.

  “Welcome to the family, sister.”

  “Oh.” Evina forced a smile and nodded as the woman straightened. This didn’t seem to be the time to tell her that she hadn’t totally made up her mind to marry Conran. Not that she’d probably tell her anyway. She wouldn’t tell anyone if she decided not to marry him. She’d pack her few belongings in a bag, saddle her horse and leave. Evina had no idea where she’d go, but she wasn’t going to marry if she wasn’t ready and if she wasn’t sure the man would not abuse her. She’d cut her hair, bind her breasts, dress as a man and work as a mercenary if she had to. She could handle a sword as well as every man here at Maclean.

  Well, if she was pregnant that could be a problem, but she’d worry about that later. At the moment, she just had to get through this visit.

  “I ken ye’re no’ sure about marrying Conran, and are no’ convinced o’ the pleasures o’ the marriage bed, but I promise, while the first time is painful, after that ’tis much better.”

  Evina stiffened, her eyes shooting to Saidh’s face with shock.

  “Ye can no’ keep a secret in a castle, Evi,” she said gently, and then asked, “Is it okay if I call ye Evi?”

  “Aye,” she muttered, wondering if she’d heard Conran refer to her as Evi. He was the only one who called her that.

  “Good.” Beaming, she dropped to sit in the chair next to the bed, and added, “I also understand ye’ve some fears about the husband’s right to beat ye and such, and I want to assure ye, Conran would ne’er beat a woman. None o’ me brothers ever would. And I can say that with complete certainty, because if they were o’ the temperament to beat women, I’d ha’e been beaten long ago, several times over.”

  “Conran said the same thing,” Evina told her with amusement.

  “Well, then, ye ken ’tis true,” Saidh assured her. “I promise, no matter how hard I punched or kicked them, and how badly I hurt them, no’ one o’ me brothers has retaliated in kind and hurt me back.”

  Evina’s eyebrows rose incredulously. “Ye punched and kicked them?”

  “I’ve done worse than that,” Saidh assured her. “Someone had to keep those big idiots in line.”

  Evina just stared at her, thinking she believed she might like Saidh a good deal.

  “And I’d do it again if I ever heard one o’ them had hurt their wife or any other woman,” she assured her. “I promise. If Conran ever missteps, ye tell me, and I shall take care o’ him fer ye.”

  “Or help me take care o’ him,” Evina said quietly because, really, she wasn’t the sort to stand by and take abuse without fighting back.

  Saidh grinned. “I think I’m going to like ye, Evi.”

  Evina smiled, the first true smile she’d given her since the woman had arrived in her room. She glanced to the sword at her waist, noting that, like hers, it was a true sword made to suit her size, and asked, “Are ye really wearing braies under yer gown?”

  “Aye,” Saidh admitted, looking slightly surprised at the question.

  “Tildy mentioned she thought she saw braies peeking out as ye got up from the table,” Evina explained, and then admitted, “I wear them too. ’Tis much easier to ride astride with them on.”

  “Oh, aye,” Saidh agreed enthusiastically. “And riding astride is much better than riding sidesaddle.”

  “I agree,” Evina assured her. “Besides, ’tis hard to engage in battle practice in the yard in a skirt. I usually—”

  “Tie it up around yer waist to keep it out o’ yer way?” Saidh suggested, and then grinned when Evina nodded. Shaking her head, she breathed, “Oh, Evi . . . we are going to be grand friends.”

  Evina beamed back and nodded. “Aye, I believe we will.”

  They were still grinning at each other when a knock sounded at the door.

  “Come in,” Evina called as they both glanced toward the door. She wasn’t terribly surprised when Conran entered, followed by two servants, one with a tray of food in hand, and one carrying a pitcher and two mugs. He’d had dinner with her each night since the attack, and this was the routine.

  “Sister.” Conran didn’t appear surprised to see Saidh there, and smiled at her as he held the door for the maids. “They are serving the sup below and yer husband is fretting ye’ll miss it.”

  Saidh rolled her eyes and then turned to Evina and advised, “Be prepared, once ye’re with child, ye’re husband will become a fretting Fiona. At least me Greer is. All he does is natter at me to eat more, sleep more, ride less and stay out o’ the practice yard. ’Tis most annoying.”

  Evina blinked, her hand moving unconsciously to her stomach.

  Fortunately, Conran quickly drew Saidh’s attention, saying, “Fretting Fiona? I can no’ wait to call him that.” And then he blinked and asked with dismay, “Ye’re no’ with child again, are ye?”

  “Shut it,” Saidh said with a scowl as she got to her feet. Moving past him toward the door, she announced, “I like Evi. Ye’d best be good to her, else I’ll come to Maclean and kick yer arse.”

  Conran just shook his head with irritation and muttered, “Go eat yer sup.”

  “I mean it,” Saidh assured him as she sailed out the door with the maids following.

  He grimaced, but merely waited until the door had closed behind them and then turned to offer Evina an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. I tried to prevent her coming up, but she was determined.”

  “’Tis fine. I like her,” Evina said honestly.

  “I suspected ye would,” he said wryly, moving to the table by the fire where the maids had set the trays. Conran stopped at the tray with the pitcher and mugs on it and poured the golden liquid into both mugs. Setting the pitcher back, he then turned to carry the mugs toward the bed, but Evi shook her head and pushed her furs aside. “Why do we no’ sit at the table tonight?”

  Conran paused, uncertainty crossing his face. “Are ye certain?”

  “Aye,” she assured him as she wrapped the plaid Tildy had set on her bedside table around herself. “I am growing heartily sick o’ being stuck in this bed. I think I’d like to sit at table, if only up here.”

  “Wait. Let me help ye, then,” he said, hurrying to return the mugs to the tray and then moving back to the bed just in time to take Evina’s arm as she got to her feet. “Take it slow,” Conran cautioned. “And tell me if ye need to stop to rest.”

  Evina snorted. “The table is across the room, m’lord, no’ across the bailey. I think I can manage it.”

  “Ye’re recovering from a nasty wound, Evi,” he said solemnly. “Ye’re no’ as strong as ye like to think ye are just now.”

  Evina didn’t respond. Mostly because after the few steps they’d covered, she already didn’t have the air to speak, and her legs were beginning to tremble, she realized. Good Lord, she was weak as a kitten, Evina thought with dismay.

  “Are ye all right?” Conran asked with concern.

  Pressing her lips firmly together, Evina nodded. She would make it to the table, or kill herself trying. Obviously, lying about for so long had weakened her. It was her chest that had been hurt, not her legs.

  Much to Evina’s relief, she did make it to the table, though she was leaning heavily on Conran’s supporting arm by the time they got there. Still, she’d made it. That was something anyway, she told herself as he pulled out a chair and settled her in it.

  “Hungry?” Conran asked as he took the second chair.

  Evina nodded, still too shaky and breathless to speak yet. Much to her relief, Conran didn’t fuss about her weakened state, but simply went about shifting one of the trenchers on the tray in front of her, and the other in front of himself, and started to eat. It took a couple of minutes for Evina to feel recovered enough that she attempted to eat. Her hand was still trembling a bit, but she managed to get a bite of cheese to her mouth without dropping it, so considered that a victory. After chewing and swallowing, she asked, “What was it like growing up with so many brothers and a sister?”

  Conran seemed surprised by the question, and paused to think before answering. “Noisy.”

  “Noisy?” she asked with amusement.

  “Aye. Noisy, chaotic, fun . . . sometimes annoying as hell, but mostly wonderful,” he admitted with a smile, and explained, “None of us ever lacked for someone to play with, and we always had each other to depend on.”

  Evina felt a touch of envy at his words. She and her brother had been little more than a year apart in age. She’d loved him dearly, and they’d been very close. Both of them had trailed their father around on his daily tasks when he was home, and Daniel had never let the fact that she was a girl interfere with play. Much to their mother’s distress, they’d run about the bailey playing at war, fighting with wooden swords and wrestling in the dirt and grass like a pair of “savages” as she’d described it. But then he’d died, and she’d been alone. Evina supposed her mother could have tried to rein her in then, but Lady Maclean hadn’t had the heart to, at least not for the first year after his death. Her mother had known how much Daniel’s death was paining Evina. She’d let her continue to trail her father around during the day. But when the negotiations began regarding bringing Evina’s betrothed to Maclean for his training, and the subject of holding the wedding early came up, her mother had been almost in a panic.

  It had taken a year for the men to hammer out an agreement and get permission from the king and the church for the wedding. Her mother had spent that time trying to turn Evina into a proper lady. Mairi Maclean had been kind and understanding, but firm, and Evina had learned a new respect for her mother. Where before she’d seen her as the weaker of her parents, she’d learned how smart and hardworking she actually was. The two of them had become quite close over that year, and her mother had succeeded in her task of making her more ladylike, at least on the surface. But then she too had died and Evina had felt lost.

  She wondered now if having more than just her brother as a sibling wouldn’t have helped with the death of both Daniel and her mother. She was sure it wouldn’t have made those losses any less painful, but it might have made it easier for her to carry on. She would have had some support at least.

  It mattered little, Evina supposed as she took a sip of honey mead. She hadn’t had siblings to cushion the loss. Swallowing the sweet beverage, she set the drink back on the table, and said, “Tell me about yer brothers and sister.”

  Conran considered the request briefly, and then said, “Well, Aulay is the eldest. He runs Buchanan and our people.”

  Evina nodded, and asked, “His scar? Was he injured as a child?”

  “Nay. As an adult. In battle some years back,” he said quietly, and then added, “We lost our brother Ewan in the same battle. He was Aulay’s twin, born just minutes after him.”

  “That must have been hard for him,” Evina murmured.

  “Aye,” Conran agreed solemnly, and then cleared his throat and continued, “And then there is the second oldest of us, Dougall. He’s much like Aulay in temperament, stern and no’ much o’ a talker. But he has a way with horses, and bred and raised them ere meeting his wife, Murine. He still does despite being laird of Carmichael now.”

  “I’ve heard of his horses. They are supposed to be the best in Scotland.”

  “Aye, they’re fine beasts,” Conran assured her, and then continued. “Niels is the next oldest. His interest was in sheep and wool ere he met and married Edith Drummond.”

  “And does he still raise sheep and make wool despite marriage to Edith?” Evina asked before sliding a bit of chicken into her mouth.

  “Only for the people of Drummond,” Conran said with a smile. “He moved his sheep there and has fresh plaids made for every member of Drummond twice a year.”

  Swallowing the food in her mouth, Evina said with approval, “That’s kind of him.”

  “Aye. Especially considering the coin he could get selling the wool elsewhere,” Conran said seriously.

  Smiling faintly, Evina asked, “And who is the next oldest?”

  “Me,” Conran admitted wryly. “And before ye ask, I’ve no special skills. I do no’ have a way with horses or sheep or any other beastie.”

  “But ye’re a fine hand at healing,” Evina pointed out. He was the one who had healed her father and tended her own wound, and had done a fine job at both.

  “Nay. Rory is the healer. I just picked up a thing or two from helping him. Just as I learned a bit about horses from helping Dougall, and about sheep from helping Niels.” He shrugged. “I ken a bit about many subjects.”

  “Which would make ye a good laird,” Evina murmured thoughtfully. For a laird who had wide and varied skills and knowledge was surely better than one who knew only how to run a keep.

  “Mayhap,” Conran said with a shrug, and then asked, “Would ye like more? Are ye still hungry?”

  Evina glanced down at her trencher, surprised to find it was empty. The short walk to the table had apparently done her appetite good at least. Hopefully it was the first step in rebuilding her strength too, she thought as she shook her head, and murmured, “No, thank ye.”

  Nodding, Conran took her trencher and set it back on the tray with his own. He then picked up the tray and headed for the door to set it out in the hall for one of the maids to get without disturbing them, and asked, “Would ye like to play a game at the table? Or return to yer bed now?”