Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“Iapprove.”
Connor stopped mid-stride as he walked through the castle corridors. He turned to see Margaret standing behind him.
“What do ye mean by that?” he asked.
“I approve of yer choice in bride,” she said.
His dark eyes narrowed as Margaret’s words sank in. “Ye can think whatever ye like, Grandmaither,” he said, voice low and dangerous, “but I told ye to stop meddlin’ in me affairs.”
His jaw was set, the lines of authority clear in every angle of his face. “This lass is me choice, and nay one else’s, do ye ken that?”
Margaret placed her hands on her hips, a stubborn tilt to her head that mirrored the stubbornness Connor knew he’d inherited.
“Aye, I ken, Connor, but I’m yer grandmaither, and it’s me duty to see ye wed rightly.”
Her blue eyes sparkled with a mixture of mischief and steel. “I’ve lived long enough to ken a good match when I see it, and Eva Whyte… she’s the lass for ye, whether ye see it or nae.”
Connor ran a hand through his hair, frustration curling like a fire in his chest.
“Ye forget yerself, Margaret. I daenae need yer counsel to ken who is fit to be me wife.” His voice grew harder, echoing down the corridor as his patience thinned. “Eva is strong and she’s made her choice to stand beside me willingly. That’s all I need from a bride.”
Margaret let out a soft laugh, one that carried both affection and defiance.
“Aye, but a good wife must also have a spine to stand beside her husband. I approve of her for ye because she has that, but I’ll nae forgive ye if ye forget she’s also yer heir’s future maither, nae just a girl from the village.
” She leaned slightly forward, voice firm.
“Ye need to see the value in that for the sake of yer bairns.”
Connor stepped closer, the shadow of his tall frame casting over her slight figure.
“I see the value, Grandmaither. I daenae need a lesson in what makes a good maither, nor do I need reminders from ye.” His tone was sharp, a warning in every syllable.
“Eva is herself, and she’ll have her place by me side without interference from any meddlin’ relatives, even those I love. ”
She smiled faintly, but there was still the glimmer of stubbornness. “I’ll try nae to interfere, though it pains me to step aside when it comes to somethin’ as important as yer happiness.”
Connor’s shoulders relaxed slightly, though the fire in his eyes did not waver.
“Aye, Grandmaither, I ken yer heart is in the right place, but let me lead in this.” He took a slow breath, letting the tension drain from his chest. “Eva will be me bride, and I will nae have her doubted or questioned by anyone, no matter how well-meanin’.”
“Very well, Connor. But mind ye, the lass must be treated with care.”
Connor gave a faint, approving nod, his expression softening just a touch. “I’ll see to it she’s treated as she deserves,” he said, voice steady and commanding. He turned and walked away.
As he moved down the hall, his grandmother’s words echoed in his mind, “treat her with care.”
A flicker of fear entered his heart as he thought about the cruelty of his own father and wondered if he would treat his wife and family with the same temper and darkness. That thought terrified him more than any clan war could.
A few moments later, Connor knocked lightly on the door. When Eva opened it, her cheeks flushed crimson, and she bit her lip nervously, avoiding his intense black eyes. He raised a brow, a small smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, enjoying the effect he had on her.
“Come in,” she said softly, stepping aside, though her hand trembled slightly.
“I daenae think we should speak in the castle,” Connor said, voice low and commanding. “Walls have ears, and this is private business that demands attention.”
He let his gaze sweep over her, steady and unflinching. She nodded silently.
Connor moved to her wardrobe, pulling out a cloak with deft fingers. He stepped close and draped it over her shoulders, the weight settling warmly against her frame. His fingers brushed her shoulders for a moment, lingering more than necessary, and Eva shivered despite the warmth of the cloak.
“It fits well,” he murmured, his voice roughened with something unspoken, and her eyes met his with a mixture of surprise and heat.
“Where are we goin’?” she asked, curiosity laced with nervous excitement.
Connor’s lips curved into a faint, teasing smile. “Somewhere off the beaten path,” he said, his tone leaving little room for questions. He moved to the door, hand extended to guide her, and she took it, his heartbeat quickening at the feel of her dainty fingers brushing his.
Outside, the sun cast long golden rays across the castle courtyard, glinting off the cobblestones as they walked to the stables.
Connor’s gaze swept the grounds, ever alert, before he reached the horses.
He helped her mount with practiced ease, his hands firm yet careful.
He felt the warmth of her body close as he swung himself behind her.
“Hold tight,” he murmured, her chest pressing against his chest.
He adjusted her cloak with a hand brushing her arm, the touch lingering just enough to set his thoughts aflame. His pulse raced, and he struggled to maintain composure as the horse shifted beneath them.
Connor leaned closer, voice low and intimate, “Keep yer eyes forward, lass, but mind yer balance.”
Connor felt the press of her body against his as they rode, each subtle movement sending heat through him.
His hands gripped the reins, but his mind wandered to the way she fit so perfectly against him, the curve of her back, and the soft sway as the horse moved beneath them.
He caught a glimpse of her cheeks flushed by the wind, and he sparked with desire.
“Ye ride well for a village lass,” he murmured, his voice low, teasing, but there was a rough edge to it.
Eva glanced over her shoulder, her blue eyes sparkling with both amusement and challenge. “And ye ride like a laird,” she shot back, her voice light but playful.
“Ye mean with authority? Then aye, I do, and we shall stop a ways up here to let the horse drink from the brook,” he said, letting the words roll out with a teasing lilt.
The horses’ hooves clattered over a narrow path, and soon they came to a brook, the clear water sparkling in the sun. Connor eased the reins and guided it to the bank, letting the horse drink. He helped Eva down, his hands brushing her waist, a touch that made his pulse quicken.
“Careful now, lass,” he murmured, his fingers lingering longer than necessary as she adjusted herself on the bank.
He offered her his canteen, holding it steady for her lips. “Here, drink,” he said, his black eyes watching her intently.
She accepted it, murmuring a soft “thank ye, me laird,” and he felt a thrill at the sound of her voice so close.
The warmth of her hand against his as she took it sent a shiver up his spine, and he had to remind himself to focus.
Connor tore a loaf of bread in half and handed it to her, their fingers brushing lightly.
“Eat,” he said simply, though the low rumble in his voice betrayed his growing desire.
She smiled, taking her half, and said, “It’s beautiful here. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
He watched her, the sunlight catching her hair, and felt a surge of pride. “Aye,” he said, “’tis me land, and I’m proud of it. But I’d rather share it with someone than admire it alone.”
They sat for a moment on the bank, letting the horses graze nearby, the brook murmuring beside them. Connor’s gaze never left her, the way the wind played with her hair, the softness of her expression, and the subtle movements of her body.
“Ye make this place seem even finer, lass,” he murmured, leaning just slightly toward her, daring her to look up.
Eva’s cheeks darkened, and she cast her eyes down, but the corner of her mouth twitched in a knowing smile.
After their brief rest, Connor helped her back onto the horse, his hands firm yet gentle on her waist. He swung up behind her, letting the press of his body remind her of the closeness they shared.
“Ye hold tight now,” he said with a teasing glint.
She laughed softly, letting herself lean back against him, the warmth of her so near that he could hardly think straight.
As they rode on, Connor let his hand brush hers occasionally, playful and possessive, eliciting small smiles and soft protests from her.
“Ye’re enjoyin’ this more than ye admit, lass,” he murmured, low in her ear, feeling her shiver at his words.
“Perhaps,” she admitted, her voice teasing back, “but I daenae ken if it’s the land or the Laird that makes me heart race so.”
Connor smirked and pressed just a little closer.
The horses trotted along the path, and Connor kept his eyes on the way ahead but felt every movement, every subtle shift of her body against his.
He wanted nothing more than to keep her pressed close, to taste the warmth of her lips, but he restrained himself.
“We’ll rest again soon,” he said quietly, his voice a low promise, “but for now, we ride, and ye hold fast, lass.”