Chapter 36
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Connor sat alone in his study, the room steeped in the quiet authority of generations past. Dark oak shelves lined the stone walls from floor to ceiling, heavy with ledgers, maps, and leather-bound volumes that smelled of age and smoke.
The McLaren crest hung above the hearth, watching him as he leaned back and exhaled slowly.
Connor’s thoughts drifted, as they often did of late, toward Eva and the fragile calm that had followed the bloodshed. He rubbed a hand over his jaw, grounding himself in routine and duty. A knock sounded against the door, sharp and respectful.
“Enter,” Connor called, straightening.
David stepped inside, closing the door behind him with care.
“Ye sent for me, Laird?” he asked, his tone steady and familiar.
Connor nodded and gestured toward the chair, though David remained standing.
“Aye, report,” Connor said.
David inclined his head. “The fences in the villages are mended, stronger than before, and the folk are grateful for it.”
Connor allowed himself a faint smile at that. “Good,” he said, “they’ve had enough hardship of late.”
David shifted his weight. “The men worked through the night in some parts, but it’s done.”
Connor rose from his chair. “They’ll be paid double ale for it,” he said. “Tell them I ken their efforts.”
David smiled at that, pride flickering across his face.
Connor moved toward the door, then paused.
“Have ye heard any rumblings from the McKay clan?”
David’s brow furrowed. “Do ye expect trouble, me laird?”
Connor opened the door and motioned for them to walk. “I daenae think they’ll attack,” he said, “the McKay council will ken why Jack fell, but grief makes fools of men.”
They stepped into the corridor, boots echoing softly against stone.
“Stay alert,” Connor continued.
“Aye,” David said, “but I’ve heard nothin’ of retaliation in me travels.”
Connor nodded once. “That’s good news, then,” he replied.
They passed a pair of guards who straightened at Connor’s approach.
“Keep yer eyes sharp,” Connor told them, and they thumped their chests in salute.
David watched with approval. “The men trust ye,” he said.
Connor snorted softly. “Trust is earned every day,” he answered.
They turned toward the inner courtyard, sunlight spilling in through the archway. Servants crossed with baskets and linen, life resuming its steady rhythm.
“The harvest reports came in as well,” David said. “Looks to be a fair yield this season.”
Connor allowed himself a breath of relief.
“That’ll steady the clan,” Connor said.
“Aye,” David agreed, “full bellies make for peaceful folk.”
Connor glanced skyward. “Peace is earned same as trust,” he murmured.
They slowed near the battlements, overlooking the lands stretching green and wide beyond the walls. Connor rested his hands on the cold stone.
“We’ll double the night patrols for a time,” he said. “These times are when danger slips in unseen.”
David nodded. “I’ll see it done.”
Connor turned to him. “And David,” he added.
“Aye, Laird?” David answered.
Connor met his gaze. “Thank ye, for standin’ fast when it mattered most. For helpin’ take Jack and his men down.”
David’s expression softened. “Always,” he said simply.
They resumed their walk, the weight of command settling comfortably on Connor’s shoulders once more. The castle breathed around them, alive and enduring, much like the clan itself. Duty called, and he would answer it, as he always had.
“I’ll see to the nightwatch,” David took his leave with a respectful nod.
Connor slowed his pace as he entered the castle once more. He turned a corner, already thinking of ledgers and patrols, when he nearly collided with Annabeth. She stood there with folded hands and a nervous set to her shoulders, though her eyes were steady.
“Laird McLaren,” she said softly, clearing her throat.
“Annabeth,” Connor replied, straightening at once.
“May I have a wee word with ye, if it pleases?” she asked, her voice careful but firm.
Connor inclined his head and gestured down the hall.
“Of course,” he said, opening the door to the library for her. The room smelled of parchment and beeswax, tall shelves casting long shadows across the floor. Sunlight streamed through the high windows, catching dust motes in its glow. Annabeth stepped inside slowly.
“I wished to thank ye,” she began, emotion threading her words. “Ye brought me daughter home alive, and I ken well what that cost ye.”
Connor shook his head once, eyes earnest.
“I would give me life for Eva,” he said without hesitation. “There was never a doubt in me mind.”
Annabeth studied him, something easing in her expression. She nodded slowly, as if accepting a truth.
“I see that now,” she said. “I had doubts at first, I’ll nae deny it, thinkin’ a great Laird couldnae truly love a mere village girl.” She let out a breath and smiled faintly. “But here ye are, and I’m glad of it, for I would nae give her to a man unworthy of her.”
Connor stepped closer, his voice solemn. “I swear to ye, Annabeth, I’ll love and protect Eva all the days I draw breath.” He placed a hand over his heart. “Her bairns will be safe with me, as will her brother Jason, and ye as well, so long as I stand as Laird.”
Tears welled in Annabeth’s eyes, and she turned away for a moment to gather herself. “That is more than I ever dared hope,” she said quietly. When she looked back, her smile trembled but held. “Thank ye, Connor.”
She shifted then, a touch of practical resolve returning to her posture.
“Now to other matters, now that I’m well again, I’d like to make use of meself,” she said. “I’m a fair seamstress, and idle hands daenae suit me.”
Connor chuckled softly. “Ye’re welcome to work with the castle tailors if ye wish,” he replied. “But ye’ve earned a life of rest as well, if that’s what ye choose.”
Annabeth shook her head. “I’ll rest when I’m in the ground,” she said with a hint of humor.
Connor laughed outright at that, the sound easing the gravity between them.
“Very well,” he said. “The tailors will be glad of ye, and the castle will be richer for it.”
Annabeth’s shoulders relaxed, pride warming her features. She stepped closer and reached out, touching his arm briefly.
“Thank ye, for seein’ her worth,” she said. “Eva has a big heart, and she gives it whole when she loves.”
Connor met her gaze steadily.
“I ken,” he replied. “And I’ll spend me life worthy of it.” Silence settled, not heavy but full, as if the room itself approved. Annabeth nodded once more, satisfied.
Connor left the library, the castle seemed brighter somehow.
He felt a rare certainty settle in his chest, stronger than steel or oath.
Family, he knew now, was a bond as binding as blood.
And he would guard it with all that he was.
He stopped and looked out a window overlooking the courtyard. He smiled.
A few moments later, he stepped into the courtyard and slowed when he saw young Jason at play, the lad brandishing a wooden sword nearly as long as his arm. Another boy faced him with equal seriousness, their brows knit as if the fate of the realm depended on the bout.
“I’m as strong as the Laird,” Jason said.
Jason swung wide and laughed, missing by a mile, and Connor’s mouth curved into an easy smile. The sound of the child’s joy eased something tight in his chest.
Connor strode closer and cleared his throat. “Careful there, lad, ye leave yer flank wide open like that.”
Jason turned, eyes going round as saucers when he saw him. “Laird McLaren!” he cried, puffing up at once. “Will ye fight us?”
Connor laughed and took up a spare wooden sword from the ground.
“Aye, if ye think ye can stand against me,” he said, lowering himself into a crouch.
Jason grinned fiercely. “I’ll beat ye yet, just ye wait,” he declared, charging with a fearless yell.
Connor parried gently, tapping Jason’s sword aside.
“Easy now,” he said. “Strength’s nae everythin’, it’s yer feet ye must mind.”
Jason frowned in concentration, adjusted his stance, and tried again.
The boys circled him, laughter echoing as Connor exaggerated his movements and staggered back.
“Och, I’m wounded,” he groaned, clutching his side. Jason crowed in triumph. “I struck ye fair!” he shouted.
Connor dropped to one knee with a grin. “Aye, ye did that,” he said.
Jason bounced on his toes, eyes bright. “I want to be a grand warrior like ye one day.”
Connor met his gaze, voice warm. “Then ye shall be that, if ye train hard and keep a good heart.”
As the boys ran off to boast of their victory, Connor rose and brushed the dust from his hands.
He felt eyes upon him and turned to see his grandmother Margaret watching from the cloistered walk. She beckoned him closer, her smile soft and knowing. Connor crossed to her at once.
“Ye’re very good with children,” Margaret said, her voice gentle. “Ye’ll be a fine faither one day.”
Connor ducked his head slightly. “I’ll try me best,” he replied.
Margaret studied him, her gaze sharp beneath the kindness. “The weddin’ is soon,” she said. “I’m satisfied with the bride, and I can finally feel peace, knowiin’ me grandson is marryin’ and will produce heirs.”
Connor chuckled under his breath.
“Aye, ye daenae mince words, Grandmaither,” he said fondly.
Margaret huffed. “At me age, there’s nay sense in it.” She reached for his arm and squeezed it.
“Ye’ve chosen well,” she continued. “Eva has strength and compassion besides.”
Connor’s expression softened at the sound of her name. “She does,” he said quietly. “I’m a better man for knowin’ her.”
Margaret nodded, satisfied, and looked back to where Jason now chased the other lads.
“This,” she said, gesturing to the courtyard, “is what we build for.”
Connor followed her gaze, a sense of rightness settling deep within him. He knew then, without doubt, that whatever trials lay ahead, this was the life he would defend with all he had.
“Aye,” he said.
“I’m off to check with the kitchens that all is being stocked for the wedding feast,” Margaret said as she walked away.
Connor stood alone for a moment, the sounds of the courtyard drifting around him as his thoughts turned inward.
All me life I’ve wanted a family, one built on warmth instead of fear, for me faither had been a cruel man and the loss of Michael had left a hollow that never quite healed. Now I finally have a true family.
Soon there would be bairns running these grounds, and the thought made his chest swell with a pride so deep, it near stole his breath.
He was still smiling when Eva stepped into the courtyard, sunlight catching in her hair, and the sight of her struck him like a blessing.
Before she could speak, Connor crossed the space between them, lifted her clean off her feet, and spun her once as she laughed in surprise.
He set her down only to steal a kiss, warm and quick, his hands firm at her waist.
“I cannae wait to marry ye,” he said softly, his brow resting against hers.
Eva laughed, her hands curling into his tunic. “I’m glad to hear it, for I’ve already begun thinkin’ ye might change yer mind,” she teased.
Connor scoffed and kissed her again, slower this time. “Never,” he murmured, “I’d be a fool beyond help to let ye slip from me grasp.”
She smiled up at him, eyes bright with mischief. “Ye do ken I’ll hold ye to that,” she said.
Connor chuckled, brushing his thumb along her cheek. “Aye, and I’d have it nae other way,” he replied.
They walked together then, hands held, the world seeming steadier with her at his side. Connor glanced down at her and felt that quiet certainty settle in his bones again. This was his future, his family, and he would guard it with everything he was.