“Now, Eva Whyte, show me what ye have stolen,” he said.
She took a deep breath, produced the cloth bundle from her cloak, and set it on the desk. She untied it and showed him the herb.
“Aye, ye were tellin’ the truth. Now I will take ye to yer home,” he said.
“I can find me own way home,” she said quickly, trying to regain a measure of control. “I daenae need ye to escort me.” Her voice held the faintest edge of defiance, though it trembled with uncertainty.
The thought of venturing the halls with him, or outside into the dark, made her stomach twist. Connor’s brows rose, his expression bemused as he stepped closer, reducing the space between them to nearly nothing.
“That was nae a question but a command. I want to see this ailin’ family of yers. See if ye lie. Daenae think I trust ye nae to run away, lass,” he said. “A lass with yer cunnin’ might slip from me grasp in a heartbeat, and I’d nae like that. I daenae ken if Eva is yer real name.”
Eva pressed her lips together, “I give ye me word, I am nae lyin’, and I will return to marry ye,” she said, looking him squarely in the eyes. “And I never go back on me word, Laird McLaren.” Her heart pounded, both from fear and a strange, fluttering thrill.
Connor’s eyes softened ever so slightly, though his stance didn’t waver.
“Aye, the word of a thief. I’ll nae let ye go by yerself,” he said, his tone low. “I’ve seen what lassies do when left to their own devices, and I ken ye’d vanish like smoke on the wind.” Heallowed her a brief glance at the door, then back to him, a warning in his gaze.
“I am nae a thief. That is… I’ve only done it this once,” she protested, though the tremor in her voice betrayed her. She folded her arms, hoping to appear brave and defiant, though her knees felt weak beneath her. Every instinct told her that disobedience would only make him more formidable, not less.
“Aye, this may be yer first time, but ye’re just as mischievous as a lifelong thief,” he said.
Eva felt heat rise to her ears at his mockery, but she wouldn’t show weakness.
“If that’s what ye think of me then ye’ll have to keep a tighter watch, won’t ye? So I willnae steal from ye again,” she shot back, voice trembling yet bold. “I’ve given ye me word, so what more would ye need?” Her heart raced with both dread and the strange pull she felt toward him.
“Tighter watch, eh?” he said, tone teasing, leaning just slightly closer. “Aye, I’ll watch ye, and nay doubt ye’ll keep me entertained with yer stubborn streak.” He reached out a finger, brushing a stray lock of her blonde hair from her face, and she gasped at the bold touch.
Eva pressed her hands to her cheeks instinctively, heat flooding her entire body.
“Daenae… tease me like that,” she said, voice breaking between exasperation and an odd thrill. “I’ve nay patience for men who find amusement in me terror.”
Yet a small part of her couldn’t deny the pull of the amusement in his dark eyes.
“Aye? Then perhaps I’ll give ye less terror, lass,” he said slowly. “But I warn ye, ye’ll need to keep up with me if ye hope to survive beside me.” His lips twitched in a dangerous half-smile, daring her to respond.
“I can manage,” she said, squaring her shoulders, though her voice betrayed her nerves. “Even with ye towerin’ over me, I can hold me own.”
Her words were more bravado than fact, but she refused to let him see her falter. Every inch of her felt alive with both fear and excitement.
“We’ll see, Eva Whyte, for now we go to yer home.” He gestured toward the door with one long finger.
“Fine. If that is yer command, me laird,” she replied. She squared her shoulders again, heart hammering wildly. There was fire in her defiance, even as every instinct screamed caution.
“Aye, I like that… obedience, submission, ye may make a fine wife yet, lass,” he said. “Keeps me from gettin’ bored.”
He took her hand, just enough to guide her without forcing her. The touch was warm, commanding, and sent a thrill through her body she struggled to suppress.
“I daenae need yer hand,” she said quickly, yanking it away, though her face betrayed her flush. “I can manage on me own.” Her voice trembled, but her pride demanded she appear unafraid. Every nerve in her body screamed that she wanted to run, but she stayed rooted, caught between terror and fascination.
“Even if ye refuse, I’ll be near. That’s the way of it.”
“Then I suppose I’ll have to suffer yer company.” She couldn’t quite hide the heat still lingering in her cheeks.
“I’ve nay plans on lettin’ ye escape the castle, nay matter how clever ye think yerself.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Connor stayed close, not touching her, but making it clear he controlled every inch of her direction. Before they could take five strides, Margaret swept into their path like a storm.
