The Wrong Highlander, page 24
“Along the hem on the side,” Jo explained, moving toward her.
Evina shifted her attention there and frowned when she saw some sort of black fluff clinging to the hem. Bending, she plucked several tufts of the black bits off her skirt and straightened to peer at them with a frown.
“There’s some on the other side too,” Jo announced, bending to flick it off for her, and then frowning, she added, “And some on the back too. What in heaven’s name . . . It’s all over the floor here. Caught in the rushes.”
“It’s getting caught on yer hem too, Jo,” Saidh announced, taking a step toward them and then pausing and instead saying, “Come away from there, the two of ye.”
They both moved away from the fireplace and closer to the other women, but Evina was staring at the black bits in her hand, her mind working.
“Is that hair?” Jetta asked with disbelief.
“Aye,” Evina said.
“It’s too dark to be Dougall’s or Conran’s,” Murine commented, joining them to peer at the hair she held. “It’s more yer cousin Gavin’s hair color.”
“Aye,” Evina agreed. “But it’s greasy and matted.”
“Tildy said yer attacker’s hair was greasy and matted,” Jetta said with realization.
Evina nodded grimly.
They were all silent for a moment and then Saidh turned to Murine. “Muri, while I knocked on Evina’s door when we first came up, I thought I heard Dougall ask ye if there was a shirt and plaid in here when the two o’ ye first came to the room yesterday?”
“Aye. He said Tildy insisted she’d put a fresh plaid and shirt here for Conran, but Dougall had assured her there was no shirt and plaid. He thought he’d best ask me though, just to be sure there hadn’t been, and he’d just missed my moving it.”
“That’s what I thought he’d said,” Saidh admitted, and turned to meet Evina’s gaze. “What do ye think he did with his clothes?”
“Who?” Murine asked with confusion.
“Me attacker,” Evina answered quietly, not having any problem following Saidh’s thoughts. Her own had been following the same line.
“Oh!” Jetta exclaimed with dismay. “Ye think he hid in here after trying to drown Evina, stole the clothes and shaved his head!”
“Oh, dear,” Murine murmured.
“Ye’re no’ going to faint, are ye?” Evina asked with concern.
“Nay, I don’t think so,” Murine said with a frown, and then shook her head with more certainty. “Nay, I’m fine.”
“Good,” Evina breathed, and smiled at her with relief.
“Did he have enough time to shave his head though?” Jetta asked suddenly, her expression dubious.
Evina considered the question, trying to remember the timing of events the day before. It seemed to her that a goodly amount of time had passed between when she’d woken up after nearly being drowned and the men heading off into the passage. Tildy had explained what had happened: her father had ordered everyone out, but no one had moved quickly. There had been a lot of people and they’d all seemed reluctant to miss out on what was happening. And then, even once her father had opened the passage entrance, they hadn’t headed in to search it. She and her father and Conran had talked a bit more, arguing over whether Gavin could be behind it before Conran had gone out to question Tildy . . .
“Aye,” Saidh decided, even as Evina thought it. “He probably gave himself a cut or two in his rush, but he could have managed it.”
Evina merely nodded and moved back to peer at the floor where she’d been standing. “It looks like he kicked the hair around a bit, trying to mix it in with the rushes to hide it.”
“’Twould have worked too if ye hadn’t chosen to stand there,” Jo commented. “I didn’t notice it until some caught on yer skirt, and with the weather this hot Dougall and Murine weren’t likely to wish for a fire. There would be no other reason to come over here, really.”
“True,” Saidh murmured, looking around the room. “But where did he put his dirty clothes?”
“Does that matter?” Murine asked. “Ye’ve figured out how he managed to escape. He shaved his head, stole the clothes, changed into them and managed to blend in with the other men in the clearing the tunnel leads to because they were looking for someone with black matted hair and filthy clothes. They wouldn’t have looked twice at a bald man in clean clothes.”
Evina didn’t respond. She wasn’t quite sure that was true. Donnan had picked the men he took with him. If he’d seen her attacker, he would have recognized that he wasn’t one of the men he’d picked, matted hair or bald. Besides, everyone at Maclean knew everyone else. A stranger in the area would have been noticed. Although there were several big bald men at Maclean, and if Donnan had chosen one among the men he took with him, the man might have got away. As long as he wasn’t seen up close, or if he kept his face turned away, anyone who saw him might think he was the other fellow. He might have fooled them long enough to slip away, she thought, but it seemed a lot of ifs.
“The clothes can’t be in here,” Jetta said now. “The men searched the rooms.”
“That’s true,” Saidh agreed with disappointment.
Evina nodded, but moved to kneel in front of the hearth and reached up into the fireplace, to feel around.
“What are ye doing?” Saidh asked with interest.
“There’s a ledge built inside the fireplace in me room. A shelf of sorts,” she murmured, lowering her head as she felt around. “If there’s one here too, I thought mayhap—Aha!” Feeling cloth, she grabbed it and pulled and then backed up as she felt the material fall. They all stared at the filthy rags that tumbled out and lay in the empty hearth.
“His clothes,” Saidh said with certainty.
Nodding, Evina stood up and glanced to the others. “Do ye suppose once they see this and ken the man has truly made his escape, Conran will stop having yer brothers follow me around for protection?”
The women all glanced at each other and then burst out laughing as one.
“I’ll take that as a nay,” Evina said dryly.
“Ye’ll have to forgive us,” Jetta said gently. “We’re truly no’ laughing at you.”
“Oh, nay, we’re no’,” Murine said quickly, looking alarmed that she might think so.
“Nay,” Saidh added. “We’re laughing at the thought o’ one o’ me brothers no’ being overprotective.” Shaking her head, she added dryly, “’Tis what they do.”
“Aye,” Murine agreed, but she was smiling. Apparently pleased with that trait in the men. “Why, that is how Dougall and I ended up married. Me brother tried to sell me to Dougall and, when he refused, was going to offer me to our neighbor. Dougall, Conran, Geordie and Alick found me fleeing me brother on me bull and decided I needed their protection.”
Jetta nodded, and added, “And Aulay found me floating on a mast in the ocean, pulled me in and, when I apparently said someone was trying to kill me, decided I needed to be kept safe while I healed from my injuries.”
“And Jo’s Cam, and me Greer, are the same caliber o’ men,” Saidh said with a grimace, obviously less pleased with this protective streak.
“Aye,” Jo said. “Cam came across me struggling with a couple of bandits on my way to Scotland. He rescued me and got wounded doing it. Once he’d healed, he escorted me the rest of the way to me aunt and uncle’s home.”
“And Greer is forever fretting over me and trying to protect me,” Saidh said solemnly, and then gave her a sympathetic look. “I struggle with it all the time, Evi. And trust me, I ken it can be a bother, but they do it because they care, and there are few enough men out there who care enough to bother.”
The other women all nodded solemnly in agreement.
Sighing, Evina turned and headed for the door. It might not make a lick of difference when it came to her having guards, but she still had to tell the men. If for no other reason than that it would give her great pleasure to tell them she’d found something they’d missed. The thought made her grin as she opened the bedchamber door.
Chapter 15
“I can’t believe we missed it,” Conran muttered, staring at the bundle of filthy clothing lying on the hearth. The truth was though he couldn’t believe the women had thought to look in the fireplace. That hadn’t even occurred to him. But then they’d had the hair to make them look for the clothes. He’d never noticed it on the floor. He’d been looking for a man, not something that could be sprinkled among the rushes.
“Ye’re no’ wearing skirts that would have picked up the hair, which is what led them to look fer the clothes,” Dougall pointed out with amusement. “’Tis no’ like it’s easy to see.”
“Hmm.” Laird Maclean kicked some of the rushes aside, revealing more hair. “This is how he slipped away, then. His head shaved and wearing a stolen plaid and shirt.”
“’Twould seem so,” Aulay muttered, but didn’t sound convinced.
Conran couldn’t blame him. He had his own doubts on the matter. The men in the clearing had been looking for someone who had attacked their mistress. Surely, they would have been hyperalert and would have noticed anyone in the area who didn’t belong? After all, the attacker might not have been working on his own.
“Well, I suppose I’d best tell the men on the gate to watch for anyone coming and going that they do no’ ken, but especially a bald man now,” the Maclean said, and turned to head for the door. “I’ll have Tildy send some women up to clear out the rushes in that corner and replace them too so ye needn’t worry about lice or fleas and such.”
Dougall grimaced at the words and Conran chuckled as he turned to follow his father-in-law.
“I think ye should continue to have a guard on Evina,” Aulay commented as they left the room.
“I intended to,” Conran assured him, and then added, “Although I plan to ask Donnan to supply a dozen trustworthy men to watch her in two shifts of six, rather than continue to depend on Geordie, Alick, Dougall and Rory.”
“Ye don’t trust us to keep her safe?” Dougall asked sharply.
“O’ course I do,” Conran said with irritation. “But ye did no’ come here to play guard. Ye came as guests to attend me wedding. I’ll no’ trouble ye by making ye play guard while here.”
“And that is yer problem,” Aulay said with amusement.
“What?” Conran asked with confusion, pausing and turning to meet his gaze.
“That ye’d no’ trouble us,” Aulay said. When Conran just shook his head with bewilderment, he added, “Have ye ne’er noticed ye’re forever helping out one of us, but ne’er ask fer help in return, Conny? And that’s the way it has always been. Ye helped Dougall with his horses, and Niels with his sheep, Rory with his healing, and me with running Buchanan, yet ne’er asked fer our help in return.”
Conran raised his eyebrows at the suggestion. “Because I don’t need help.”
“Everyone needs help some time, Conran,” he said solemnly. “For instance, ye need it now with keeping Evina safe. Ye helped each o’ us keep our women safe when ’twas needed, yet now will no’ let us return the favor. Rather than ‘burden’ us, ye’d have strangers to guard the lass. And they’re men ye obviously do no’ trust with the task, else ye’d no ask for so many.”
Conran frowned and shook his head. “I thought ye’d be pleased to be able to relax and enjoy a visit rather than have to stand guard and—”
“And help ye?” Aulay interrupted quietly. “Has it ne’er occurred to ye that as much as ye like to aid us, we might like to help ye in return too? That perhaps we feel we owe ye that help even, and so long as ye don’t allow it, we’re left owing ye?”
“I—” Conran blinked, and then said with dismay, “Nay. I ne’er considered ye owed me anything. I offered me help freely. There were no demands attached, no expectation that ye’d help me in return. And I ne’er even considered ye might feel that way.”
“Good,” Aulay said solemnly. “Because I’d have been sore disappointed if ye understood the unequal footing ye were forcing us all onto, and just enjoyed feeling superior to us with all yer helping.” Smiling, he added, “But now that ye ken how helping us all the time without allowing us to aid ye in return affects us, I ken ye’ll accept our help in guarding Evina and leave off having soldiers do it.”
“O’ course,” Conran said at once.
“Good,” Aulay said with satisfaction, and continued forward saying, “Then we’ll take it in shifts, two brothers guarding Evina at a time.”
“Ye can count me in on that,” Cam announced, falling into step beside Aulay.
“Me too,” Greer growled, following.
“Thank ye,” Aulay said. “That means when Niels gets here we’ll have eight men all told. Four shifts o’ two men. Perfect.”
“Perfect,” Conran muttered, and shook his head as he followed the others. He had no idea how his brother had managed it, but he now felt guilty for trying to save them from having to guard Evina. He even felt guilty for helping out his brothers as he tended to do, as if his motives had been some underhand way to—How had Aulay put it? Set himself on a higher footing and make himself feel superior to them?
“Madness,” he growled under his breath. He helped because they were his brothers and they needed help. As for why he didn’t accept help, he usually didn’t need it. It was that simple. Wasn’t it?
“Conny!”
Conran glanced up at that shout from Aulay and hurried to the front of the group to reach his eldest brother’s side at the top of the steps. “What?”
“The women are gone,” he said grimly.
Conran turned to peer down over the great hall. It was busy, as usual, but it was also noticeably absent of every one of their women. From Evina to Aulay’s Jetta, they were gone. Even Bearnard and the Maclean’s dogs were no longer below.
“Don’t set up such a fuss, Buchanan,” the Maclean said with amusement, coming out of his room with a rolled-up plaid in hand.
Conran recalled Rory’s advice to the man the day before about rolling up a plaid and setting it in a circle that surrounded and would protect his arse in the saddle, and could only assume the man intended to ride out to talk to the men at the gate. He wasn’t surprised. While the Maclean was doing better, his injury pained him when he had to walk any distance.
“The women are all together and Gavin is with them,” Fearghas Maclean continued as he joined them at the top of the stairs. Glancing down into the great hall, he added, “As are the dogs. No doubt the beasts needed to relieve themselves and Evina and the others accompanied them outside to get a breath o’ fresh air.”
Cursing, Conran started down the stairs at a run.
“What the devil!” he heard the Maclean say with surprise. “What’s the matter with him? The lassies’ll be safe enough outside with me nephew.”
“So long as Evina’s attacker isn’t even now in the bailey, notching an arrow to a bow and aiming it at her.”
It was almost like Aulay had read his mind, Conran thought as he heard his brother’s words behind him. They were followed by several exclamations of dismay and the sudden thunder of all the men crashing down the stairs on his heels. Conran ignored it and merely hurried across the great hall. He burst out of the keep doors, fully expecting to find Evina and the others standing about at the foot of the stairs watching the Maclean’s huge deerhounds lifting a leg, but they weren’t there. Not on the steps, and not anywhere near them.
Fear clutching at him, Conran paused to scan the bailey from his elevated position at the top of the stairs, and was nearly sent tumbling down them when the keep doors opened behind him and someone crashed into his back.
“Sorry,” Aulay muttered, catching Conran’s shoulder, and saving him from the fall he’d nearly caused. Moving up beside him once sure Conran was steady on his feet again, he glanced around and asked, “Where are they?”
“That’s what I was just wondering,” Conran said grimly as the rest of the men moved out of the keep to take up position around them. “I don’t see them anywhere.”
“And me horse is gone,” Fearghas Maclean growled with exasperation as he stepped up behind Conran and his brother.
“Well, I can’t imagine Gavin agreeing to an outing outside the walls. Evina is too weak for that yet,” Rory pointed out. “Mayhap there was somewhere within the bailey she wished to go and they used yer horse to get her there to save her exhausting herself with a long walk.”
“Is there somewhere she’d want to go?” Aulay asked, turning to glance between Conran and the Maclean.
“Donnan told me she usually oversees the men at practice,” Conran announced, starting down the stairs.
“Surely she wouldn’t try to do that so newly from her sickbed though. Would she?” Rory asked with concern as he and the other men followed.
“Damned right she would,” Conran and the Maclean said together, and then glanced at each other with surprise.
Grinning, the Maclean slapped him on the back and shook his head. “Ye’ll make her a fine husband, lad. A fine husband indeed.”
Conran smiled crookedly and shook his head. “If she lives that long.”
“Nay, Cormag! Ye’re holding it wrong,” Evina called, frowning at the young man and moving through the battling men toward one with long ginger hair and peach fuzz on his face. He was about Gavin’s age, or a year younger, but hadn’t developed as quickly. He was also a good distance from where she’d been standing with the women, and little Bearnard on the edges of the practice field with her father’s horse and dogs. They had all been waiting at the tables in the great hall for the men to go take a look at the dirty clothes and shorn hair they’d found. Evina had wanted to go with them and be in on any discussion that followed. However, she had been ordered to stay behind by both her father and Conran, who had said it at the same time as if they shared a mind. The order had frustrated and angered her, and normally Evina would have ignored it and followed them up anyway.
Unfortunately, the trip down the stairs had been exhausting. So much so that she’d had to stop to rest halfway down, holding up the other women as well as Dougall and Rory, who had followed them. She had just finished gasping out a refusal to Dougall’s offer to carry her the rest of the way, insisting she just needed a moment’s rest and could manage on her own, when Conran had spotted them on the stairs. He’d immediately rushed up to scoop her into his arms and carry her down the rest of the steps. The man had berated her the whole way to the table for wearing herself out so while still healing. She should still be abed, he’d growled as he’d set her down on the bench and taken a seat beside her.
