Eva stumbled over her words as though they were burning her tongue. “I’m sorry, I’m so very sorry,” she stammered, tears slipping free. “I meant nay harm, me laird, truly I dinnae.” Her voice was raw with desperation.
Connor cut her apology short with a slicing motion of his hand. “I daenae want to hear it,” he snapped, his temper flaring brighter. “Ye’re a thief.” The insult came out harsh, but he felt betrayed in a way he hadn’t expected.
Eva gasped, her hands rising in a helpless gesture of pleading. “I’ll accept any punishment ye see fit,” she said, collapsing to her knees. “But please, I beg ye, let me bring the medicine to me family first.” Her voice cracked into a sob, her tears falling freely now.
Connor’s anger paused, but only for a moment. His brows drew together as he stared down at her kneeling form.
“Yer family?” he echoed.
Eva nodded frantically, her hair falling wild around her face.
“Me maither and brother are sick with fever,” she cried. “The village healer has run out of yarrow, and I came because I dinnae ken where else to turn. I never meant to go to the great hall; I only wanted to sneak in and out unseen.”
Her voice dropped to a broken whisper then. “Please, Laird… just let me treat them. Let me save them. I’ll do anythin’, just let me take the herb.”
She pressed her forehead to the floor, trembling with fear and grief. Connor stared at her, the scene twisting something deep in his chest. He’d seen desperate folk before, but never a lass with such fire buried beneath her terror. Her fear seemed genuine enough, yet so did the wild determination clinging to her every word. It unsettled him, more than he cared to admit.
He inhaled slowly, trying to decide if she manipulated him or truly suffered. His gaze dropped to the way she knelt, not with pride but with pleading humility. Her sobs were unfeigned, raw, and trembling. She was not lying about this, his instincts told him so.
Finally, he spoke, voice low and unyielding. “I’ll let ye live,” he said, tasting the weight of the decision. “And I’ll let ye take the medicine to yer family.” His next words dropped like an executioner’s axe. “But only on one condition.”
Eva lifted her head slowly, tears streaking her cheeks, eyes wide with fragile hope and dread. She swallowed hard, her voice small. “What… condition?” Her fingers dug into her skirt as though bracing for another blow.
Connor let the silence stretch just long enough for her heartbeat to stutter. He bent down slightly, bringing his face level with hers, holding her gaze with unbreakable intensity. His next words were deliberate, unshakable, and final.
“Ye marry me.”
Eva froze, her breath catching in her throat as if he’d struck her. Her lips parted, but no sound emerged at first. Color drained from her cheeks, leaving her pale beneath the lantern light. The cloak slipped from her shaking grip.
“M-Marry… ye?” she finally whispered, voice trembling with disbelief. Her eyes darted across his face, searching for mockery and finding none. “But… why? Surely ye jest.” She looked utterly undone.
Connor straightened to his full height, towering over her with the commanding presence of a laird who expected obedience. He folded his arms, gaze unrelenting.
“Because I daenae take kindly to thieves,” he said, voice deep and final. “And marryin’ me is the only way ye leave this castle.”
Eva’s breath shook violently, her tears falling faster now. She pressed a hand to her mouth, staring at him as though he were both savior and executioner. Her entire body trembled under the weight of his demand.
Connor watched her, emotionless but not unaffected. Her desperation tugged at something buried deep within him, something he tried hard to ignore. But he needed control, loyalty, and answers, and this marriage would give him all three. Or so he told himself.
He stepped closer, his shadow falling over her once more.
“Choose, lass,” he said quietly, though his voice still held steel. “Yer freedom and yer family’s lives… or the stocks and shame.” His eyes locked onto hers, dark and unwavering.
CHAPTER SIX
Eva stumbled backward, her knees weak, as if the stone beneath her might crumble and swallow her whole. She blinked at the laird, trying to make sense of the words that had left his lips. The demand that she marry him felt like some cruel jest, a nightmare spun from the deepest corners of her imagination. She pressed her hands to her face, struggling to breathe through the dizzying shock.
“Ye must be teasing me,” she said, voice trembling. “I daenae have time for yer sick jests, me laird.”
Her chest heaved, and the cloak hung awkwardly about her trembling frame. The world seemed to tilt as she tried to hold onto reason.
Connor’s black eyes bored into her, unyielding and sharp as a blade.
“I daenae jest, lass,” he said, his voice low and deliberate. He stepped closer, and the warmth of his presence pressed against her. His jaw was tight, expression hard, showing no hint of teasing.
Eva’s mouth opened, then closed, words refusing to form.
“Why… why would ye want to marry me? I am a thief.” Her voice wavered, half accusation, half disbelief. She couldn’t understand how he had chosen her among all the noble women gathered at the ceilidh. The very thought left her reeling.
