He stepped forward and pulled out a chair for her, the scrape of wood against stone loud in the hush. Eva hesitated only a breath before sitting, smoothing her skirts as she settled.
“Thank ye,” she said softly, unsure where to look.
He nodded and took the opposite chair, though he didn’t sit just yet. Eva studied him from beneath her lashes, still confused by how he could be so attentive now after being so cold. She told herself not to question it aloud, fearing she might shatter this fragile peace.
Connor reached for the carving knife and sliced the ham with practiced ease. He served her first, placing meat, vegetables, and bread upon her plate.
“Thank ye,” Eva said again, more firmly this time, and their eyes met for a brief moment. Something unreadable flickered across his face before he looked away.
They began to eat, the clink of cutlery filling the space between them. The food was rich and comforting. She gathered her courage as she chewed, knowing she couldn’t let this chance slip.
“Connor,” she began, careful to keep her tone mild.
He glanced up, brow slightly furrowed. “Aye?” he said, lifting his cup.
“If I’m to be Lady McLaren,” Eva said, “I wish to ken more of the castle stocks and the daily runnin’ of things.” She swallowed, then added, “That is… if the weddin’ is still on.”
Connor’s knife paused mid-cut. He set it down slow and fixed her with a look sharp enough to steal her breath.
“What do ye mean, if it is still on?” he asked. “Of course the weddin’ is still on, as planned.”
Eva’s shoulders eased despite herself.
He continued, “Yer weddin’ clothes have been delivered, have they nae?”
“Aye,” she replied quickly, “they have, and the dress is beautiful.”
She hesitated, then confessed, “It’s only that I’ve nae seen ye in days.”
Connor leaned back slightly, “I’ve merely had matters to attend to, as I’ve already told ye,” he said. “Clan business doesnae cease for courtship.”
His tone was clipped, brooding, and Eva felt the wall rise again between them.
“I understand that,” she said gently, “but I wouldnae be kept in the dark forever.”
She gestured around them. “These ledgers, the stores, the people, one day they will be mine to mind as well.”
Connor took a long drink of ale before answering. “The granaries are full,” he said. “The cattle are accounted for. That is enough for now.”
Eva frowned slightly. “There is more to it than that,” she pressed. “What of the tenants, the rents, the winter plannin’?”
He sighed, fingers drumming once against the table.
“Those matters are handled,” he replied. “David oversees the men, and the steward keeps the tallies.”
His answers were short, almost evasive, and it frustrated her. She had hoped for guidance, not dismissal.
“And if the steward falls ill?” she asked. “If there’s poor harvest or unrest?”
Connor’s gaze sharpened, as if measuring her. “Then I handle it,” he said simply.
Eva set her fork down. “I daenae wish to be an ornament, Connor,” she said quietly. “I wish to be useful, to stand beside ye proper.” Her voice didn’t shake, though her heart did.
For a long moment, he said nothing. The candle flickered, throwing shadows across his stern features. Finally, he spoke, lower now.
“Clan McLaren matters are nae easily handled,” he said. “It is a heavy burden.”
“I ken that,” Eva replied. “I’ve borne burdens all me life.” She met his gaze steadily. “I’m nae afraid of work, nor of hard truths.”
