Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“It’s beautiful,” Eva gasped as they rode into the village.
It lay nestled on the edge of a glassy loch, its waters catching the sunlight. Small cottages with thatched roofs dotted the gentle slopes, smoke curling from chimneys into the crisp morning air.
Children ran barefoot along the dirt paths, laughing as they chased a small dog, and the scent of fresh bread wafted from the bakery at the far end.
Fishermen worked along the shore, their boats rocking gently in the clear water, and the mountains rose in the distance, rugged and green, framing the peaceful scene.
Eva leaned forward slightly on the horse, eyes wide with wonder. “I’ve never seen a village like this before,” she admitted, her voice tinged with awe.
“How come, lass? Ye grew up in the village, nae far from this one. Less than half a day’s ride.”
She shook her head, hair catching in the wind. “Aye, but since I was wee, I was helpin’ me maither tend to me brother, fetchin’ food, cookin’, cleanin’, sewin’, and mendin’ to make a livin’. I never had the time to see places like this, nor a horse.”
Connor’s hand rested lightly on her waist, steadying her.
“Ye’ll have time now, and ye own horse,” he said firmly, his voice soft but full of certainty. “Now that ye’re with me, ye’ll see the lands and the world. There’s more than just the village ye’ve known.”
She felt her cheeks warm and looked away, pretending to focus on the village ahead. “Ye flatter me, me laird,” she said softly, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips.
Connor let the horse slow as they passed a small market square, wooden stalls offering fresh vegetables, woolen cloth, and fish from the loch.
“See there,” he said, pointing at a stall with colorful scarves. “That’s linen spun by the women from the next village over. They sell it here once a week. Ye’ll find the colors fair as any rainbow.”
Eva watched a young girl laughing as she handed over coins to a merchant, her eyes bright and cheerful. “I never thought people could be so… filled with joy,” she whispered, as if she feared the word.
Connor’s hand brushed hers as he guided the horse closer to the stall. “Joy’s a strange thing, lass, but one worth enjoyin’,” he said. “Ye’ve spent years tendin’ to the needs of others. Now it’s time ye see the world for yerself.”
Eva let out a small laugh, a sound light and airy, mingling with the gentle lapping of the loch against the shore. “Perhaps I could… try it, then,” she said, hesitantly, yet with a spark of excitement in her voice.
Connor’s eyes softened as he looked down at her, the wind whipping strands of hair across her face. “But mark me words, the world may be grand, but it can be dangerous too. Ye’ll need to ken who ye trust, and who to avoid.”
Eva’s gaze drifted to the mountains reflecting in the loch, their peaks white in the distance. “I think… I can trust ye, me laird,” she said, voice steady despite the nervous flutter in her chest.
Connor’s hand squeezed hers lightly, a silent reassurance. “Good. That’s a start,” he said, voice low, teasing, but with an edge of seriousness.
The Inn sat at the edge of the village, its wooden sign swinging gently in the breeze. Smoke curled from the chimney, promising warmth and hearty food inside, and the faint smell of roasted meat drifted across the path.
A stable boy raced out as they approached, eyes wide and full of excitement.
“Laird McLaren! I’ll take right good care of yer horse,” he said, bowing low.
Connor chuckled. “That is good of ye, lad,” he replied, voice full of warmth.
Eva watched the exchange, noticing the respect and admiration in the boy’s eyes, and felt a strange comfort in being near someone so clearly beloved by others.
The Inn’s door creaked as they entered, and the warmth of the hearth greeted them like an old friend.
The walls were lined with wooden beams, and long tables with benches filled the room, some occupied by travelers and locals enjoying their midday meal.
The flickering firelight cast dancing shadows across the rough-hewn floor.
She glanced around, marveling at how cozy and welcoming the place felt. Connor’s presence seemed to command attention as they moved further in, and the Innkeeper, a stout man named Targon, hurried forward.
“Laird McLaren! It’s been far too long!” Targon exclaimed, clasping Connor’s forearm with both hands.
Connor grinned, clapping the man on the shoulder in return. Eva noticed the genuine warmth in their greetings, the kind that spoke of old friendships and shared memories.
They were seated near the hearth, the flames crackling and sending a comforting heat over the room.
“Mugs of ale for us, lad,” Connor said.
The Innkeeper nodded and hurried off, filling the room with a comforting sense of routine and familiarity.
“Ye know, lass,” he began, voice low, “I used to come here as a young lad with David, me man-at-arms. Castle life was nae all it’s made out to be, full of duties, lectures, and endless meetings.
We’d come here just to get away from it all, to drink ale, eat good bread, and watch the world pass by as travelers from all of Scotland come through. ”
Eva tilted her head, curiosity bright in her eyes. “I can tell the people here love ye, me laird,” she said softly, noting the respect and warmth in the Innkeeper’s manner.
Connor’s lips curved into a rare, genuine smile. “Aye, they do. And it’s nae just because I’m Laird. It’s because I treat folk with respect, and I never forget all me time spent here as a lad.”
The Innkeeper placed two mugs in front of them and nodded with respect before walking away. She watched Connor sip from his mug, the firelight illuminating the sharp angles of his face.
“It must be… freein’,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. “To come somewhere that feels safe and unjudged.”
Connor’s eyes softened as they met hers.
“Aye, lass. Freedom is a rare thing, but worth chasing when ye find it. Even a laird can find solace away from the chaos of walls and council meetings.” His hand brushed hers across the table, subtle but deliberate, and Eva felt a shiver of warmth at the touch.
Eva took a sip of the ale, tasting the richness and warmth, and felt a strange sense of belonging, sitting beside him. She had never known such comfort in her life, simple, honest, and entirely without pretense.
Connor leaned back, surveying the room as if taking in all its familiar faces.
“These walls remember every laugh, every argument, every secret shared,” he said, voice low and reflective.
“It’s a place of comfort, of history, of life itself.
I like to think some of that sticks with ye, even when ye leave. ”
Eva smiled, a mixture of admiration and wonder in her gaze. “I can see why ye return,” she said softly. “It feels… alive. Warm. Like people care about more than just titles and duties.”
Connor nodded, a flicker of pride in his expression. “Aye, that it does. And it reminds me of who I am, nae just the laird everyone expects me to be.” He lifted his mug slightly in a quiet toast. “To findin’ places that keep ye grounded, lass.”
Eva returned the gesture, clinking her mug lightly against his.
“To findin’ places where one can be oneself away from pryin’ eyes,” she said, smiling.
She felt a gentle warmth, not just from the fire, but from being near someone who carried both power and kindness. Sitting there, with the fire, she realized how much she was beginning to trust him, and how much she was enjoying simply being in his presence.
Connor’s gaze softened as he watched her, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement. “Ye’ll see more of these places, lass. Many more. And I promise, wherever we go, I’ll make sure ye find comfort as well as adventure.”
Eva’s heart fluttered, both nervous and excited at the thought. “I think I could grow used to this,” she said, a quiet laugh escaping her lips.
The Inn’s hearth crackled as plates of food were set before them, filling the air with the rich scent of a hearty Scottish meal.
A thick, steaming stew brimming with root vegetables and tender chunks of beef was placed in front of them, alongside a loaf of fresh, crusty bread still warm from the oven.
Slices of cured ham, wedges of sharp cheese, and neatly boiled eggs completed the spread, making the table look a feast fit for a laird and his guest. Eva’s eyes widened, and she could hardly believe the generosity laid before them, her stomach rumbling in anticipation.
Connor grinned, leaning back in his chair and reaching for the bread.
“Eat, lass. Ye’ll nae regret it. This be the finest food this side of me lands.” He broke a piece of bread and offered it to her, the warmth still lingering in his calloused hands. “And soon enough,” he added, eyes glinting, “this shall be yer lands too.”
Eva froze, the words hitting her like a splash of cold water. “Are ye quite sure ye want to marry me?” she asked softly, voice barely above a whisper. “I am nothin’ but a villager, Laird. Surely there are maidens, daughters of Lairds, ye should be choosin’ from.”
Connor scoffed, cutting a thick slice of ham for himself and popping it into his mouth. “Aye, I’ve met them all in this region,” he said, chewing slowly, eyes on her. “All simperin’, soft-spoken, and empty of spirit. None interest me, lass, nae one.”
Eva felt her cheeks flush, a mixture of embarrassment and awe at his boldness.
She had still not quite wrapped her mind around the fact that Laird McLaren had chosen her, a simple village girl, above all others.
Even now, seated across from him, tasting the delicious food, she felt unworthy of his attention, yet her heart leapt at the thought that he had indeed chosen her.
The wind picked up outside, rattling the wooden shutters and sending a chill through the room. Dark clouds rolled across the sky, and rain began to patter against the windows with increasing ferocity.
Connor’s eyes followed the storm for a moment before he spoke, his voice calm but commanding. “Looks like we’ll have to stay the night here, lass. Storm is nae fit for travel.”
He called out toward the Inn’s owner, his voice carrying easily over the roar of the rain.
“Targon! Ready yer finest rooms for us. A warm bed and a fire, mind ye.”
The owner’s voice responded from the back, cheerful and dutiful. “Aye, me laird. I’ll have them prepared at once.”
Eva swallowed hard, her heart pounding as she realized what staying the night implied.
Sharing a room with Laird McLaren, her betrothed, was a thought both thrilling and terrifying.
She tried to steady her breath, reminding herself that she was there to keep her promise, yet she could not deny the nervous flutter in her chest.
She watched as Connor tore into the stew, savoring the rich flavors, but his gaze kept flicking to her. Eva, trying to appear calm, took a small spoonful, marveling at how the tender vegetables melted in her mouth.
“This… this is delicious, Laird,” she said, trying to talk about anything except the rooms upstairs.
Connor leaned back with a satisfied smile, wiping his hands on a cloth. “Aye, ‘tis fine fare.”
Eva took another bite but could not silence the panic inside her.
The storm outside intensified, rain streaking the windows and the wind moaning through the roof timbers.
Eva’s heart pounded at the thought of sharing the night under the same roof, in the same bedchamber.
Every nerve in her body seemed alert, every glance from him carrying weight, and she realized there would be no easy escape from what the coming night promised.
How could someone like him, so commandin’, so… confident, truly desire me, a simple villager?
And yet, there he was, looking at her as if she were exactly the kind of woman he wanted to take to bed, ignoring the world beyond the Inn’s walls.
Connor glanced at her across the table, raising an eyebrow in that familiar way that made her pulse quicken. “Daenae worry, lass,” he said, voice low, teasing, but edged with authority. “We’ll make it through the storm… and by the morrow, ye’ll ken the comforts of castle life even more.”
Eva nodded, trying to steady herself, though her mind raced.
The food, the warmth, the storm outside, and the man beside her, it all seemed unreal, like a dream she wasn’t yet ready to wake from.
She took another bite of bread, trying to focus on the present, yet her thoughts could not help but wander to what the night ahead might bring.
Eva felt a strange mix of nervousness, excitement, and anticipation, knowing that soon, the storm outside would be the least of her worries. All that mattered now was the man sitting across from her, and the promise, both terrifying and exhilarating, of the night to come.
Will he expect me to do me wifely duties before we are wed?