She accepted it, murmuring a soft “thank ye, me laird,” and he felt a thrill at the sound of her voice so close.
The warmth of her hand against his as she took it sent a shiver up his spine, and he had to remind himself to focus.
Connor tore a loaf of bread in half and handed it to her, their fingers brushing lightly.
“Eat,” he said simply, though the low rumble in his voice betrayed his growing desire.
She smiled, taking her half, and said, “It’s beautiful here. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
He watched her, the sunlight catching her hair, and felt a surge of pride. “Aye,” he said, “’tis me land, and I’m proud of it. But I’d rather share it with someone than admire it alone.”
They sat for a moment on the bank, letting the horses graze nearby, the brook murmuring beside them. Connor’s gaze never left her, the way the wind played with her hair, the softness of her expression, and the subtle movements of her body.
“Ye make this place seem even finer, lass,” he murmured, leaning just slightly toward her, daring her to look up.
Eva’s cheeks darkened, and she cast her eyes down, but the corner of her mouth twitched in a knowing smile.
After their brief rest, Connor helped her back onto the horse, his hands firm yet gentle on her waist. He swung up behind her,letting the press of his body remind her of the closeness they shared.
“Ye hold tight now,” he said with a teasing glint.
She laughed softly, letting herself lean back against him, the warmth of her so near that he could hardly think straight.
As they rode on, Connor let his hand brush hers occasionally, playful and possessive, eliciting small smiles and soft protests from her.
“Ye’re enjoyin’ this more than ye admit, lass,” he murmured, low in her ear, feeling her shiver at his words.
“Perhaps,” she admitted, her voice teasing back, “but I daenae ken if it’s the land or the Laird that makes me heart race so.”
Connor smirked and pressed just a little closer.
The horses trotted along the path, and Connor kept his eyes on the way ahead but felt every movement, every subtle shift of her body against his.
He wanted nothing more than to keep her pressed close, to taste the warmth of her lips, but he restrained himself.
“We’ll rest again soon,” he said quietly, his voice a low promise, “but for now, we ride, and ye hold fast, lass.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“This way, lass,” Connor said.
Connor led Eva up the narrow wooden stairs, the boards creaking beneath their steps as the sounds of the tavern faded below. The room they entered was small but warm, with stone walls, a low-beamed ceiling, and a wide hearth where a fire already burned.
A heavy oak bed sat against the far wall, draped in thick wool blankets, and a small table with two chairs stood near the window. Tallow candles cast a soft glow, filling the chamber with the scent of smoke and beeswax.
He shut the door behind them, the latch clicking with a final sound that made the space feel suddenly intimate. Connor glanced about the room, satisfied, loosening his cloak and setting it aside.
“It’s a fine room. I have stayed here many a night,” he said simply, his deep voice calm but carrying a quiet authority.
He watched as Eva lingered near the door and could tell she was nervous and unsure of what to do.
A knock sounded, firm but polite, and Connor crossed the room to open the door. The innkeeper entered with a wooden tray bearing a bottle of amber whiskey, two chipped cups, and a pitcher of water beaded with moisture.
“Thank ye, Targon,” Connor said, handing the man a coin, and the innkeeper bowed before leaving them alone once more.
Connor set the tray on the table and poured a modest measure of whiskey into one cup. He turned and handed it to Eva, his fingers brushing hers briefly as she accepted it.
“For the chill,” he said, his mouth curving slightly, eyes dark and watchful.
