The Innkeeper nodded and hurried off, filling the room with a comforting sense of routine and familiarity.
“Ye know, lass,” he began, voice low, “I used to come here as a young lad with David, me man-at-arms. Castle life was nae all it’s made out to be, full of duties, lectures, and endless meetings. We’d come here just to get away from it all, to drink ale, eat good bread, and watch the world pass by as travelers from all of Scotland come through.”
Eva tilted her head, curiosity bright in her eyes. “I can tell the people here love ye, me laird,” she said softly, noting the respect and warmth in the Innkeeper’s manner.
Connor’s lips curved into a rare, genuine smile. “Aye, they do. And it’s nae just because I’m Laird. It’s because I treat folk with respect, and I never forget all me time spent here as a lad.”
The Innkeeper placed two mugs in front of them and nodded with respect before walking away. She watched Connor sip from his mug, the firelight illuminating the sharp angles of his face.
“It must be… freein’,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. “To come somewhere that feels safe and unjudged.”
Connor’s eyes softened as they met hers. “Aye, lass. Freedom is a rare thing, but worth chasing when ye find it. Even a laird can find solace away from the chaos of walls and council meetings.” His hand brushed hers across the table, subtle but deliberate, and Eva felt a shiver of warmth at the touch.
Eva took a sip of the ale, tasting the richness and warmth, and felt a strange sense of belonging, sitting beside him. She had never known such comfort in her life, simple, honest, and entirely without pretense.
Connor leaned back, surveying the room as if taking in all its familiar faces. “These walls remember every laugh, every argument, every secret shared,” he said, voice low and reflective. “It’s a place of comfort, of history, of life itself. I like to think some of that sticks with ye, even when ye leave.”
Eva smiled, a mixture of admiration and wonder in her gaze. “I can see why ye return,” she said softly. “It feels… alive. Warm. Like people care about more than just titles and duties.”
Connor nodded, a flicker of pride in his expression. “Aye, that it does. And it reminds me of who I am, nae just the laird everyone expects me to be.” He lifted his mug slightly in a quiet toast. “To findin’ places that keep ye grounded, lass.”
Eva returned the gesture, clinking her mug lightly against his.
“To findin’ places where one can be oneself away from pryin’ eyes,” she said, smiling.
She felt a gentle warmth, not just from the fire, but from being near someone who carried both power and kindness. Sitting there, with the fire, she realized how much she was beginning to trust him, and how much she was enjoying simply being in his presence.
Connor’s gaze softened as he watched her, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement. “Ye’ll see more of these places, lass. Many more. And I promise, wherever we go, I’ll make sure ye find comfort as well as adventure.”
Eva’s heart fluttered, both nervous and excited at the thought. “I think I could grow used to this,” she said, a quiet laugh escaping her lips.
The Inn’s hearth crackled as plates of food were set before them, filling the air with the rich scent of a hearty Scottish meal. A thick, steaming stew brimming with root vegetables and tender chunks of beef was placed in front of them, alongside a loaf of fresh, crusty bread still warm from the oven.
Slices of cured ham, wedges of sharp cheese, and neatly boiled eggs completed the spread, making the table look a feast fit for a laird and his guest. Eva’s eyes widened, and she could hardly believe the generosity laid before them, her stomach rumbling in anticipation.
Connor grinned, leaning back in his chair and reaching for the bread.
“Eat, lass. Ye’ll nae regret it. This be the finest food this side of me lands.” He broke a piece of bread and offered it to her, the warmth still lingering in his calloused hands. “And soon enough,” he added, eyes glinting, “this shall be yer lands too.”
Eva froze, the words hitting her like a splash of cold water. “Are ye quite sure ye want to marry me?” she asked softly, voice barely above a whisper. “I am nothin’ but a villager, Laird. Surely there are maidens, daughters of Lairds, ye should be choosin’ from.”
Connor scoffed, cutting a thick slice of ham for himself and popping it into his mouth. “Aye, I’ve met them all in this region,” he said, chewing slowly, eyes on her. “All simperin’, soft-spoken, and empty of spirit. None interest me, lass, nae one.”
Eva felt her cheeks flush, a mixture of embarrassment and awe at his boldness. She had still not quite wrapped her mind around the fact that Laird McLaren had chosen her, a simple village girl, above all others. Even now, seated across from him, tasting the delicious food, she felt unworthy of his attention, yet her heart leapt at the thought that he had indeed chosen her.
The wind picked up outside, rattling the wooden shutters and sending a chill through the room. Dark clouds rolled across the sky, and rain began to patter against the windows with increasing ferocity.
Connor’s eyes followed the storm for a moment before he spoke, his voice calm but commanding. “Looks like we’ll have to stay the night here, lass. Storm is nae fit for travel.”
He called out toward the Inn’s owner, his voice carrying easily over the roar of the rain.
“Targon! Ready yer finest rooms for us. A warm bed and a fire, mind ye.”
The owner’s voice responded from the back, cheerful and dutiful. “Aye, me laird. I’ll have them prepared at once.”
Eva swallowed hard, her heart pounding as she realized what staying the night implied. Sharing a room with Laird McLaren, her betrothed, was a thought both thrilling and terrifying. She tried to steady her breath, reminding herself that she was there to keep her promise, yet she could not deny the nervous flutter in her chest.
She watched as Connor tore into the stew, savoring the rich flavors, but his gaze kept flicking to her. Eva, trying to appear calm, took a small spoonful, marveling at how the tender vegetables melted in her mouth.
