Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
Eva sat between the two beds that had been prepared for her family, her hands resting in her lap as she listened to their shallow breaths.
The chamber was far grander than anything she had seen in her life, with heavy embroidered drapes and a carved oak hearth glowing softly in the corner.
The scent of herbs simmering somewhere nearby filled the warm air, easing her anxiety only a little.
She kept glancing between her mother and brother, waiting for any sign of change.
A soft knock preceded the creak of the door as Nina entered, moving with slow, measured steps.
The healer was small in stature, her back bent slightly with age, and her silver hair braided down her spine like a rope of frost. Deep wrinkles framed her sharp eyes, which gleamed with practiced wisdom and unshakable calm.
Her hands, though gnarled at the knuckles, moved with precise confidence as she set her satchel on a small table.
“I brewed up a proper concoction for the two of them,” Nina said. “This should keep the fever away and steady their breathin’. Yer family will mend under proper care.”
“Thank ye,” Eva replied softly, rising from her stool. “I cannae tell ye how much this means. They’ve suffered enough these past days.”
“Och, lass,” Nina murmured, patting her arm. “It’s me duty to look after the sick, especially special guests of the laird. Ye’re under his roof now, and that means ye’re under me care.”
Nina moved to Annabeth first, brushing a strand of hair from her pale forehead before lifting her chin gently.
Her eyes narrowed in focus as she studied the woman’s pulse, then she nodded to herself, satisfied.
She poured a carefully measured dose of her mixture into a cup, waiting until Annabeth’s lips parted in a faint stir.
The sound made Eva jolt, and she rushed to her mother’s side instantly.
Annabeth’s eyelids fluttered before she forced them open, her gaze dazed and unfocused.
Her lashes trembled as she tried to orient herself, confusion pulling at the corners of her mouth.
She looked from wall to wall as though the room itself frightened her.
When her gaze finally landed on Eva, her expression softened with faint relief.
“Where… where are we?” Annabeth whispered, her voice thin. “What happened, mo chridhe? Everythin’ feels wrong.”
“Maither, easy now,” Eva said, taking her cold hand between both of hers. “We’re in the castle, in the Laird’s keep. I, I came here last night to steal yarrow, hopin’ it would break yer fevers.”
“Steal?” Annabeth rasped, trying to push herself up before falling back against the pillows. “Eva, what madness was that? Why would ye bring yerself to such danger?”
“I had nay choice,” Eva murmured, brushing her thumb over her mother’s knuckles. “Ye and Jason were burnin’ up, and the village had nothin’ left. I went to the Laird’s stores, but he caught me… and said I must marry him or face punishment.”
Annabeth’s eyes went wide, a sheen of tears gathering like dew on glass.
Her breath stuttered as she looked at her daughter with disbelief and horror mingled together.
Her lips trembled as she turned her face away for a moment, gathering what little strength she had.
When she looked back, her voice cracked.
“Oh, me poor lass,” she whispered. “I should’ve never let it come to this. I’ll beg him meself, tell him to free ye from such a fate. I’ll crawl on me knees if that’s what it takes.”
“Nay, Maither,” Eva said firmly, squeezing her hand gently. “I want to be in this position. Aye, I was shocked first, but now I see how much good can come from it.”
“Eva, ye daenae ken what ye’re sayin’.” Annabeth’s voice trembled, her eyes filling again. “The Laird is known for his temper, known to be a cruel man when crossed. Ye’re too gentle a lass for such hardness.”
“Maither, listen to me,” Eva insisted, leaning closer. “We’re here because of him. Ye’re gettin’ the best healer in the Highlands, and Jason has warmth and medicine for the first time in days.”
Annabeth buried her face in her hands as a sob escaped, fragile and exhausted.
Her shoulders shook under the blankets, and guilt pressed heavily into every line of her expression.
Eva wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close despite the frailty of her body.
The fire crackled in the hearth, its glow brushing both their faces with warmth.
“I’m sorry,” Annabeth cried. “I’ve failed ye as a maither. Ye deserved a safe life, nae one tied to a man feared by half the Highlands. Oh, Eva, what have I done to ye?”
“Daenae fash yerself, Maither,” Eva whispered, stroking her hair. “I made a promise to him, and I plan to keep me word. I’m stronger than ye think.”
“Ye daenae understand the man ye’re bindin’ yerself to,” Annabeth pleaded. “Laird McClaren has a reputation as cold as the northern winds. Folk say he’s ruled more by vengeance than kindness.”
“Maybe,” Eva said softly, lifting her chin. “But I saw somethin’ different in him. He helped me without complainin’, carried water with his own hands from the village well… that’s nae the work of a heartless brute.”
Annabeth shook her head weakly, unable to accept it.
Her gaze drifted toward Jason’s still form, worry twisting her features into something tight and raw.
She wiped at her eyes with trembling fingers, then looked back at Eva with pleading urgency.
The room felt heavy with the weight of a mother’s fear.
“Even if he showed ye kindness once,” Annabeth whispered, “it might’ve been a moment’s whim. Men like him ken how to hide their tempers until the vows are made. I daenae want ye trapped, Eva. I daenae want ye broken.”
“I’ll nae break,” Eva said, voice quiet but firm. “I can handle him, and I’ll prove it. He’s nae what the rumors say, nae entirely.”
“Rumors start from truth,” Annabeth insisted. “Folk whisper he’s haunted by rage, that he hunts the ones who wronged him with nay mercy. Are ye ready to live beside such fire?”
“Aye,” Eva answered without hesitation. “If that fire keeps ye alive, keeps Jason alive, then I’ll stand right beside it. I’ll nae turn away from a chance to save us all.”
Nina, who had been quietly observing while adjusting herbs on the table, stepped closer with a soft sigh.
Her expression was unreadable, though her wise eyes flicked from mother to daughter with faint sympathy.
She reached out and checked Jason’s forehead, nodding as she felt the coolness under her touch.
The crackling of the fire underscored the quiet tension binding the room.
Annabeth lay back against the pillows, exhaustion pulling at her features once more.
Her breaths came slow and shallow, but steadier now that the medicine was doing its work.
Her fingers tightened around Eva’s hand with surprising strength for a woman so frail.
She swallowed hard, blinking through the tears clinging to her lashes.
“I only want ye safe,” she murmured, voice barely audible. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted. If marryin’ him is the path ye choose… then may the heavens protect ye.”
“I daenae need heaven’s protection,” Eva said gently. “I’ve got me own wits and will. And maybe… maybe I’ll even bring a bit of warmth back into that man’s life.”
“Och, lass,” Annabeth whispered, closing her eyes. “Just promise me ye’ll run if he ever raises a hand or voice in cruelty. Promise me ye’ll leave this place if it becomes a cage.”
“I promise I’ll always think for meself,” Eva replied, brushing her mother’s cheek. “But I’m nae afraid of him. Truly, I’m nae.”
Nina placed another cool cloth on Jason’s forehead, then turned toward the two women with a small nod of approval.
The healer’s presence brought a measure of peace to the room, her quiet footsteps soothing rather than intrusive.
She moved with the practiced ease of someone who had tended to countless lives through good years and bad.
Eva watched her a moment, grateful for her steadiness.
The fire spat softly, casting amber light across the carved bedposts. Eva squeezed her mother’s hand once more before leaning back to check Jason’s breathing. His color had improved slightly, a sign that the worst might be passing at last. Relief spread like warmth through her tired limbs.
Annabeth opened her eyes again, studying her daughter with a mixture of fear and pride.
Her lips trembled as if trying to form more protests, but weariness held her quiet.
She sighed deeply, sinking into the pillows as though surrendering to fate’s heavy hand.
Eva brushed back her hair once more, trying to soothe her.
“Sleep now, Maither,” Eva said. “Let the medicine do its work, and let yer mind rest. I’ll be right here when ye wake. This is a good thing, ye’ll see. Ye’re safe, Maither… truly.”
The chamber settled into a quiet lull as Annabeth’s eyes drifted closed again.
Jason lay still but peaceful, his fever no longer burning with such cruel force.
Nina finished her final checks before gathering her herbs with small, deliberate motions.
When she approached Eva, her expression held a calm certainty that steadied Eva’s frayed nerves.
“They’ll mend,” Nina said softly. “Slowly, aye, but they’ll mend. Ye did right bringin’ them here.”
And as Eva sat between the two people she loved most in the world, listening to their steadier breaths, she believed Nina’s words. No matter what lay ahead, marriage, uncertainty, or the temper of a feared Laird, she would endure it. For them. And perhaps, in time, even for herself.
A soft knock sounded, light and quick. Eva opened the door to find the maid Amelie standing there. The lass had bright amber eyes and cheeks flushed from brisk walking. She dipped into a curtsey before speaking.
“Mistress Eva,” Amelie said, breathless. “The Laird is askin’ for ye. He told me to fetch ye straightaway.”
Eva kissed her mother’s cheek one last time and whispered that she would return soon.
She smoothed the blankets around both her mother and brother out of habit before stepping toward the door.
Her stomach fluttered with nerves that had no intention of settling as she followed Amelie down the corridor.
The stone walls echoed faintly with their footsteps.
Servants carrying linens or trays slowed at the sight of her and dipped into curtseys as though she were someone important.
It startled her each time, and she fumbled for a polite nod in return, unsure of the etiquette.
She felt heat rise to her cheeks every time it happened, a strange mix of embarrassment and disbelief swirling in her chest. Never in her life had anyone bowed in her direction, and it felt entirely too much.
“Is it… is it normal for them to do that?” Eva finally whispered. “I’m nae anyone special. Why do they bow and curtsey to me?”
“Och aye ye are,” Amelie said with a cheerful grin. “Ye’re the Laird’s bride, after all. Folk are beside themselves waitin’ for the weddin’ this weekend.”
“This weekend?” Eva nearly tripped. “What do ye mean this weekend? There’s a weddin’ planned already?”
“Aye,” Amelie said, bobbing her head as though this were common knowledge. “Word’s all over the keep. I cannae wait to see the ceremony, everyone says it’ll be grand. They're all right happy it’s one of our own from the village.”
Eva’s heart hammered as frustration pricked hot behind her ribs.
She clenched her hands at her sides and tried to keep her voice steady, though her breath came sharper now.
The Laird had chosen a wedding date without even speaking to her?
Humiliation and anger twisted inside her as Amelie led her up the final stair.
They reached the door to Connor’s study, and Amelie gave her a bright smile before slipping away. Eva didn’t bother to knock. She stepped inside, her pulse thundering, and found Connor standing behind his desk, looking over a map. The moment he lifted his gaze, she marched forward.
“How dare ye?” she snapped. “How dare ye pick a weddin’ date without askin’ me a single word? Is this how ye mean to treat me as yer wife?”
Connor straightened, blinking as though she’d spoken in another language. His brow arched with cool curiosity rather than guilt. He folded his arms loosely over his broad chest, waiting for her to continue. The nerve of the man made her want to throw something.
“What are ye talkin’ about, lass?” Connor asked calmly. “I havenae picked any weddin’ date.”
“Daenae lie to me,” Eva shot back, her cheeks flaming. “Amelie said the weddin’ is this weekend, and she heard it from the servants. Ye must have told someone. They are makin’ the preparations already.”
“I did nay such thing,” he replied, his voice steady. “I havenae arranged a weddin’ at all. Nae yet.”
“Ye expect me to believe that?” Eva demanded, her hands curling into fists. “This is nae the way to start a marriage, with secrets and falsehoods.”
Connor let out a long, tired sigh and scrubbed a hand down his face. He walked around the desk, stopping only a few steps from her, towering but composed. His gaze softened slightly, though his jaw tightened in frustration. When he spoke, his tone held a hint of patience strained thin.
“Eva, listen,” he said. “I called ye here exactly because nothing’s been set yet. We need to discuss our arrangement, set the ground rules, and then choose a date together.”
“Then who in God’s name planned a weddin’ for this weekend?” she asked, confusion drowning her anger. “Someone must’ve said it. The servants are buzzin’ about like bees.”
Connor’s expression shifted, first to suspicion, then to irritation, and finally to grim realization. Though he hadn’t spoken another word yet, Eva saw the answer flicker across his face. And the name she suspected formed in her mind even before he exhaled through his nose.
Margaret. The name fluttered back into her thoughts, and Eva felt a prickle of unease crawl along her spine. She stood before Connor’s desk, her hands clasped tight as she tried to piece together the muddled threads of gossip and truth.
Eva drew a steadying breath and lifted her chin. “Well then… if ye dinnae set a wedding date, Connor, someone else surely did,” she said, her voice tight but steady.
Connor leaned back in his chair, his brow furrowing. “Nay one here sets me schedule but me. But I daenae put it past me grandmaither to do such a thing.”
Eva shook her head, her curls brushing her cheek. “Amelie spoke of a ceremony this very weekend. The servants are whisperin’, Connor. They’re curtseyin’ to me as though I’m already yer lady.”