Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Eva wandered along the garden path where the roses climbed the stone walls and bees hummed lazily in the afternoon sun.
She let her fingers brush the leaves as she passed.
Her thoughts strayed, as they often did of late, to Connor and the hope that she might glimpse him rounding a corner or striding through the grounds.
Foolish girl for wishin' such a notion.
She had just paused near a patch of lavender when a familiar voice piped up behind her.
“Eva,” Jason called, breathless with excitement, his dark hair sticking up every which way. She turned at once, her worry melting into a smile as she saw her brother scampering toward her with bright eyes.
“Jason, ye startled me,” she said, laughing softly as she crouched to his height.
“Will ye play with me, sister?” he asked, already hopping from foot to foot.
“Of course I will,” Eva replied without hesitation, warmth flooding her chest.
Jason darted toward a low hedge, pointing eagerly.
“There’s beetles there, I ken it,” he said with a grin.
“Aye, but daenae squash them,” Eva warned gently as she followed him.
“I wouldnae,” Jason protested, dropping to his knees to peer under the leaves.
They moved slowly along the garden, Jason squealing whenever something skittered past.
“Look, Eva, a red one,” he cried, cupping a ladybug in his hands.
“It’s a bonnie wee thing,” Eva said, peering close, “but best let it go.”
Jason nodded solemnly and opened his hands, watching it fly away in delight.
After a time, they settled on the grass, both a bit breathless and laughing.
“Do ye like livin’ here at the castle, then?” Eva asked, brushing dirt from his sleeve.
Jason’s face lit up at once.
“I like it very much,” he said, nodding hard. “The Laird is kind,” Jason added earnestly.
Eva blinked at that and leaned closer. “What do ye mean, Jason?” she asked, surprised.
“He gave me food in the kitchen,” Jason said with a shrug.
“When was that?” Eva pressed, her heart skipping.
“The other day,” Jason replied easily. “He gave me berries, then told Cook I could eat whatever I wanted,” he said proudly. “I ate so much,” he finished, patting his belly.
Eva laughed, a bright sound that startled a pair of doves nearby.
“I’m glad yer appetite’s come back,” she said, smoothing his hair.
Jason grinned and leaned against her side, content.
“I like him, sister,” Jason said simply.
As they sat there together, Eva felt something shift quietly inside her. She had known Connor was capable and commanding, but this small kindness toward her brother touched her deeply. It warmed her in a way she had not expected, easing doubts she had carried in silence.
Watching Jason chase another beetle through the grass, Eva's confusion grew. Connor was hard to understand, hot and cold, then kind.
Jason scrambled to his feet again, chasing a fluttering butterfly toward the apple trees at the edge of the garden.
Eva followed more slowly, her skirts brushing the grass as her thoughts lingered on what he had told her.
She felt a soft ache in her chest, part relief and part longing, as she imagined Connor kneeling to Jason’s height and offering him food without expectation.
It was a tenderness she had not known to look for in a man like him.
“Eva, look how fast it flies,” Jason called, spinning in circles until he nearly toppled over.
“Slow down, wee brother, or ye’ll fall flat on yer face,” she said, laughing as she caught his arm.
He giggled and leaned into her, unbothered.
They wandered back toward the stone bench, Jason’s chatter filling the space between them.
“Will we stay here forever, Eva?” he asked suddenly.
She hesitated only a moment before answering.
“Aye, I think we will,” she said softly.
Jason seemed pleased with that and nodded, as if it settled something important.
As he ran off again, Eva watched him with a smile that slowly faded into thought.
If Connor could show such kindness when no one was watching, perhaps there was more hope in this marriage than she had dared believe.
For the first time in days, the tight knot of worry in her chest loosened, just a little.
Eva left the garden paths and followed the stone corridor toward the healing rooms, her steps soft against the worn floor as the air grew warmer and thick with the scent of herbs.
The chamber was wide and bright despite its age, sunlight spilling through latticed windows draped in pale linen.
Shelves lined the walls from floor to ceiling, crowded with jars of dried plants, oils, and powders, while low beds stood in quiet rows beneath hanging cloths.
A hearth crackled gently, lending the space a feeling of steadiness and care that settled Eva’s nerves the moment she entered.
Nina stood at a long table near the fire, grinding herbs with a mortar and pestle, her silver hair braided tightly down her back.
Years had bent her shoulders but had done nothing to dull her sharp eyes or the certainty of her movements.
She looked up at Eva with a small, knowing smile, as if she had expected her.
“Good day to ye, lass,” Nina said, wiping her hands on her apron, her voice calm and sure.
Eva stepped closer, folding her hands together.
“Good day, Nina. I was hopin’ to find ye here.” She hesitated, then added quietly, “I wanted to ask after me maither.” Her fingers tightened together as worry crept into her voice. “Jason’s up and about again, but Maither still rests so much, and I cannae help but fret.”
Nina nodded and set the mortar aside, her expression thoughtful but not troubled.
“Aye, that’s to be expected,” she said evenly. “Bairns bounce back quick, their bodies mendin’ faster than ours ever could.” She lifted her gaze to Eva’s, steady and reassuring. “Yer brother’s strength carried him through, but yer maither needs more time.”
Eva swallowed, bracing herself. “Has there been any change?” she asked, barely above a whisper.
“There has,” Nina replied, and the corner of her mouth curved upward. “I just came from Annabeth’s room nae an hour past.” She crossed her arms loosely as she spoke. “She’s much better this day, fever down and color back in her cheeks, and she took her broth without turnin’ away.”
Eva sucked in a sharp breath, her eyes widening. “Truly?” she asked, hope rushing through her so quickly it left her lightheaded.
“Aye, truly,” Nina said with a soft chuckle. “She’s out of danger, and she’s on the mend, and that’s nay small thing. In a day or two, she will be back to her old self.”
Joy swelled in Eva’s chest until it nearly spilled over. “That’s the best news I’ve heard in days,” she said, pressing a hand to her heart. “Thank the saints.” She turned toward the door almost at once. “I’ll go to her straight away.”
“Ye’ve carried much worry on them shoulders,” she said quietly. “It shows.” She softened then, her voice lowering. “But ye can set some of it down now, lass. Yer maither’s strong, and she’s nae alone in this place.”
Eva swallowed again, emotion thick in her throat. “Thank ye, Nina,” she said earnestly. “For everythin’ ye’ve done for us.” Her voice trembled despite her efforts. “I’ll nae forget it, as long as I draw breath.”
Nina waved her off with a small smile. “Go on then,” she said. “Sit with her a while, and let her see yer face.”
As Eva left the healing rooms, the scent of herbs clung to her skirts like a quiet promise. Her steps were lighter, relief and hope weaving together in her chest. She moved swiftly through the castle halls, already imagining her mother’s tired smile and the sound of her voice stronger than before.
It was all worth it for me family to get well under the best care.
Eva entered her mother's bed chamber and looked at the bed, but it was empty.
"Maither?" she said.
"Aye, I'm here," Annabeth said.
Eva turned to see Annabeth standing at the window, watching the castle bustle below. Eva moved to her side and hugged her.
"Och, ye look well. Ye have color again," she said.
"I feel much better, lass. Woke up with almost all me energy back," she said.
She studied Annabeth’s face. Color had returned to her cheeks, a soft warmth where there had been only gray exhaustion days before. Relief filled Eva so completely that it nearly hurt to breathe. She smiled without meaning to, as if her joy might anchor her mother firmly to this moment of health.
Annabeth noticed at once and squeezed her daughter’s fingers.
“Ye look at me as though I might vanish,” she said gently, her voice stronger than it had been in weeks.
Eva laughed softly, “I have nae seen ye this well since before we came to the castle.”
“Aye, and I can feel it in me bones. Like meself again,” Annabeth replied, rolling her shoulders, “and it feels like a miracle I daenae take lightly.”
Eva leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her mother’s knuckles, emotion tightening her throat.
“I was so afraid,” she admitted quietly, her voice thick with feeling.
Annabeth brushed a hand through Eva’s hair, the motion slow but steady. “I ken, me lass,” she said, “but ye kept us alive when ye shouldnae had had to carry such weight alone.”
A brisk knock sounded at the door, breaking the tender hush of the room. Eva rose and crossed to open it, finding Amelie nearly bouncing on her toes in the corridor. The maid’s eyes shone as if she carried a secret too bright to hold.
“Miss Eva,” Amelie said breathlessly, “another parcel’s come for ye, and I’ve set it in yer room.”
Eva gasped and pressed a hand to her mouth, laughter bubbling up before she could stop it.
“It must be me weddin’ clothes,” she said, half in disbelief. From the bed, Annabeth straightened, her eyes lighting with sudden energy. “Oh, then we must have a look, daughter,” she declared, already stepping toward the floor.
Together they made their way to Eva’s chamber, Amelie hovering nearby like an excited sparrow. The parcel lay on the bed, wrapped in clean linen and tied with careful knots.
Eva hesitated before touching it, suddenly shy, as if the gown inside might judge her worth. Annabeth nodded once, firm and encouraging, and Eva finally loosened the ties.
The cloth fell away to reveal a white wool gown, soft and luminous in the light. Delicate embroidery traced the hem and sleeves, thread worked into curling vines and tiny flowers. Eva reached out with trembling fingers, scarcely daring to touch it.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, her voice breaking on the word.
Annabeth smiled, tears gathering despite her effort to stay composed.
“Aye,” she said softly, “and so are ye.” She lifted the gown, studying it with a critical eye born of years of mending and making do. “This was made for a lady. Ye,” she added, glancing pointedly at Eva.
Eva changed carefully, with the help of Amelie and Annabeth.
The wool settled over her shoulders like it belonged there, the weight comforting rather than heavy. When she turned toward the mirror, she scarcely recognized herself. She looked, not like a village girl playing dress, but like a woman stepping into a life she had never dared imagine.
Annabeth stepped behind Eva. She placed her hands on her daughter’s shoulders, her grip warm and sure.
“Ye wear it well,” she said, voice thick with pride.
Eva swallowed hard and met her mother’s eyes in the mirror, seeing her own fear and hope reflected back.
“I’m still me,” Eva said quietly, as if seeking reassurance.
Annabeth smiled and shook her head. “Aye, ye are,” she replied, “and that’s why ye’ll be a fine wife, no matter whose name ye carry.” She reached up and smoothed the collar, her touch lingering.
Amelie clapped her hands together in delight. “Saints preserve us,” she said, grinning wide, “the Laird will lose his breath clean away.”
Eva laughed then, the sound bright and free, and for the first time, she truly believed it might all be real.
Annabeth held Eva’s hands and studied her face with quiet seriousness.
“I’ll nae lie to ye, lass,” she said, her voice low and honest, “when I first heard ye were to wed the Laird, fear near stole me breath.”
Eva stilled, listening close, her heart thudding as Annabeth went on.
“But seein’ ye now, standin’ so sure and calm, I ken I had nothin’ to fear at all. Ye were made for this.”
Eva swallowed and squeezed her mother’s fingers. “Ye feared for me happiness, and there's nothin’ wrong with that,” she said softly, more statement than question.
Annabeth nodded once, her eyes shining. “Aye, I feared ye’d be bent or broken by a hard life,” she replied, “but instead I see a woman who willnae bend easy.”
Annabeth lifted her chin, pride straightening her tired shoulders. “Ye’ll be Lady McLaren,” she said firmly, “and ye’ll be a good one, rulin' with strength and justice both.”
Eva’s breath caught as the words settled deep in her chest.
“I am so proud of ye,” Annabeth finished, her voice trembling despite herself.
Eva leaned forward and rested her brow against her mother’s.
“Thank ye, Maither,” she whispered, tears slipping free at last. She laughed softly through them and added teasingly, “And I’m proud of ye as well, for raisin’ such a fine daughter.”
Annabeth chuckled, brushing away Eva’s tears with her thumbs.
“Ye’ve always had it in ye,” Annabeth said gently. “All I did was keep ye fed and loved.”
Eva shook her head, smiling through her tears. “Nay,” she replied, “ye taught me kindness, and courage, and how to stand when the world presses hard.”
“Och, ye two are goin’ to make me shed a few tears,” Amelie said.
The two women chuckled at the maid’s words as they held each other. For a long moment, neither spoke.
Eva felt steadier than she ever had before, wrapped in her mother’s pride and her own quiet resolve.
I will be Lady McLaren.