“What do ye meannay?” Dugan skewered a rabbit on another spit and placed it alongside the roasting birds. “If they sent her here alone, she canna be married to anyone else, can she?”
“I dinna ken if she’s married or not.” Quinn’s attention drifted to her pack. A sudden urge to look through it made him glance to see if she was anywhere near. He had been so concerned about not upsetting her, he hadn’t pried and asked too many questions. Perhaps he should have. “I suppose she could be married even though she’s alone. What if the English imprisoned her husband?”
“Or hanged him,” Dugan offered with a solemn nod.
“Then she would be a widow.”
“Even better.” Dugan slapped his shoulder. “Betwixt me and yerself, virgins are more trouble than what they’re worth.” His face puckered as if he’d just eaten something sour. “And I dinna think an inexperienced lass would survive Mairi.”
While Quinn agreed, he’d be damned if he handed Evie over to the likes of Dugan MacTaggart and his wee demon spawn. “I willna allow ye to marry her.”
His cousin darkened with a rare scowl. “And why not?”
“She is under my protection.”
“That is nay an answer,” Dugan argued, his fierceness hardening. “Ye refuse to give yer own cousin yer blessing? That wounds me clear to the bone, Quinn. What have I done to deserve such callous treatment?”
“I intend to marry her.” The words came out without a moment’s hesitation. Dugan wanted what he had decided was most certainly his, and he wouldn’t allow it. “What better way to ensure she is safe even if something happens to me?”
“Well, that is disappointing.” Dugan frowned. “I ken well enough that the clan’s nagging ye to take another wife and sire an heir, but God help me, I dinna ken what the blazes to do with Mairi.” With a slow shake of his head, he snorted out a heavy sigh. “I promised Leah I would never send her away.”
“Send her away?” Quinn recoiled at the idea of anyone sending away their child.
“To a convent or some such place to train her up as a proper female.”
“Ah, I see.” He handed the flask back to Dugan. “Perhaps, Lady Evaline might still help with Mairi. Just not as yer wife.”
“Aww…now that would be grand, cousin. Do ye think she might agree to it?”
“I dinna ken for certain if she will even agree to marry in order to keep herself safe,” Quinn said, pondering how he would share this opportunity with the stubborn woman whose kiss had inflamed him.
“Well, here she comes. Reckon ye might ask her?” Dugan leaned closer. “And ye’re nay going to let her keep wearing those clothes, are ye? They’re nay entirely proper, ye ken?”
“These are all the clothes I possess, gentlemen.” Evie came to a halt at the edge of the clearing, looking ready to kill them both. “Mr. MacTaggart, your voice is louder than Big Ben.”
“Is that yer husband?” Dugan asked, much to Quinn’s relief because he wondered the same.
Evie pressed her lips together, flattening them tight as though she wished them permanently sealed. After an uncomfortable moment of silence, she gave a light cough, then gave a modest nod. “Yes. He was my husband. I am widowed.”
Dugan elbowed Quinn and whispered, “Lucky bastard.”
“Shut yer maw,” Quinn warned through clenched teeth.
After draping her things to dry, she propped her boots beside the fire. Her nose wrinkled when she spotted the carcasses sizzling over the flames. Slowly, she pulled her focus away from the meat and leveled it on them. “Who is this Mairi person, and why does she need me as her keeper?”
“My dear sweet daughter,” Dugan said, tucking his thumbs into his belt. “Loving child. All I’ve got since my precious Leah left us nigh on three years ago.”
“I assume Leah is—or was, your wife?”
“Aye.” With a deep sigh, he bobbed his head.
“And she left you and your daughter?” She eyed the man as though trying to decide whether or not he lied.
“Fever took her. Mairi and me got down with it, too but survived.” He twitched a shoulder and dropped his gaze. “My Leah always was a bit on the frail side. She nearly died bringing our Mairi into the world.”
Quinn stepped forward. “Dugan thought ye might help with Mairi. Soften the wee lass’s rough edges.” He chose his words with care, knowing if he portrayed the child as an innocent cherub, he would pay for it later. “She’s naught but eight years old.”
Evie shifted with a flinching shrug. “Actually, I don’t have that much experience with children. I’ve opera…uhm…healed several but have never dealt with them on a daily basis.” As she edged around the fire, she kept glancing back at the roasting meat as if afraid it might come after her. “I’m afraid I’ve never known many children other than if they’re sick or hurt. I have no siblings, and my parents traveled quite a bit, so they hired an older lady to watch over me until I was old enough for boarding school.”
