The older woman planted her hands on her hips, sharp eyes raking over Eva from head to toe.
“Well now,” Margaret declared loudly, “sothisis the lass.” She clicked her tongue with disappointment. “She’s nae what I expected, bit plain, but she’ll do if she can give ye heirs.”
Connor released an irritated breath, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Grandmaither, it has yet to be made official if I will pick this lass or nae,” he said, forcing patience into his tone. “Now, if ye’ll kindly let us through, I have business to attend to with the lass.” He tightened his hold on Eva’s wrist, guiding her forward.
Margaret’s eyes narrowed. “And what kind of business might that be?” she demanded, stepping directly into their way. “I must ken what ye are up to. Ye arenae slippin’ past me without an explanation.”
“I am the Laird here. Ye daenae get to demand things from me. Move aside Grandmaither. Tell our guests I shall return within the hour,” he instructed, his tone brooking no disagreement. “Go and be a gracious hostess to yer party. That is yer task tonight, nae hoverin’ over me.” His command rolled through the hall with unmistakable authority.
Margaret huffed, shoulders rising as she glared at him with outrage.
“Aye, aye, ye stubborn lad,” she muttered, though she shuffled aside at last. “But daenae think I’m done speakin’ of this.” She shot Eva one last assessing look before turning in a flurry of skirts.
Connor seized Eva’s hand firmly, ignoring her startled intake of breath. His stride was long and purposeful as he pulled her along, giving her no chance to hesitate.
The night air met them in a cool rush as they stepped out of the castle and crossed the moonlit courtyard. Lanterns swung gently on their hooks, casting soft golden pools of light that wavered over the cobblestones. The stables rose at the far end, long, sturdy, and built of dark timber, with warm light spilling from the open doors. Inside, horses shuffled in their stalls, the scentof hay and leather hanging thick in the air as stable boys quietly murmured to the beasts in their care.
Connor paused at the threshold, his gaze drifting briefly to the lass at his side. Inwardly, he felt an unsettling tug of intrigue.
Who is this simple village girl who dares challenge me with every breath?
The daughters of the lairds inside the hall spent time batting lashes and bending like reeds before him, offering nothing but obedience wrapped in silk. Yet this Eva girl, with her fire, her stubborn chin, and those quick blue eyes, stirred something sharper, something far less controllable.
“Get yer horse,” Connor commanded, nodding toward the stalls as he strode forward with purpose. “We’ll leave at once.”
Eva blinked at him, her cloak brushing the straw-littered floor. “I daenae have a horse, me laird,” she confessed, her voice low with a hint of embarrassment.
Connor turned to her fully “Then, we’re ridin’ together,” he said, enjoying the instant flush that colored her cheeks. “Up with ye. I’ve nae the patience to dawdle.”
Her eyes widened, and she took a hurried step back. “I can walk,” she insisted, shaking her head. “It’s nae far, me laird. I daenae need to trouble ye.”
“Walk?” he repeated as though she had suggested crawling on her hands. “Ye’ll do nay such thing when ye’ve a fevered family waitin’ on ye. Ye’ll get lost in the dark.”
Eva crossed her arms, stubbornness radiating off her like heat from a forge. “I’ve walked that road since I was a bairn,” she argued. “I ken it better than ye ken yer own boots.”
Connor stepped closer, towering over her with a commanding presence that would have sent most lasses tripping over themselves. “And yet,” he said with infuriating calm, “ye’ll ride with me.”
Eva’s lips parted in protest. “I will nae.”
Connor raised one brow, a challenge gleaming in his black eyes. “Lass,” he warned softly, “I’m tryin’ to be reasonable. Ye want to get to yer family quick or nae?”
Her resolve wavered, and she looked away, jaw tight. “Aye… but still, I can…”
“Ye can argue with me the whole damn way,” Connor cut in, gesturing toward his stallion, “but ye’ll do it sittin’ in front of me on that horse.”
Eva huffed, clearly torn between pride and urgency. “Ye’re the most stubborn man I’ve ever met,” she muttered under her breath.
Connor smirked, stepping past her to ready the saddle. “Aye,” he said, “and God help ye, ye’ll soon be married to me.”
Her breath caught, her cheeks blooming scarlet once more, and Connor found, much to his surprise, that he enjoyed every second of her flustered defiance.
He lifted her with practiced ease. Eva let out a startled gasp as he set her upon the horse, her skirts fluttering about her ankles. The mare shifted beneath them, snorting as if amused by the whole affair. Connor swung up behind her, settling close enough that her back brushed his chest.
Eva sputtered, twisting to glare at him, her cheeks blooming a furious pink.
“Ye cannae just haul a lass about like a sack of barley,” she snapped, her voice shaking with indignation.
