As the column of riders left the castle grounds and the distant turrets of McLaren faded behind them, Connor’s mind remained both burdened and focused. The path to McKay lands stretched before him, dark with the uncertainty of twelve years, but burning with the possibility of reunion.
He pictured Michael, a boy no longer, but now a young man, bearing the mark that only his eyes could recognize. Connor’s grip on the reins tightened.
“I’ll bring him home,” he murmured, voice low, almost to himself, “and when I do, I will return to ye, Eva… and ye shall ken everythin’.”
Connor’s jaw set in grim determination, his chest tight with the weight of hope, fear, and the fire of unspoken desire for Eva. He did not look back again, focusing only on the road ahead, where his brother, and perhaps salvation, awaited.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Eva had stood frozen in the shadowed corridor earlier that day, her breath caught in her throat as Connor’s words drifted to her from around the corner.
“Let the other Lairds write their angry letters and complain I dinnae choose their daughters to wed,” he had said.
She heard him speak to his grandmother about these letters, of Lairds and their daughters, and her heart thudded so loud she feared it would give her away.
“So that’s it then,” she whispered to herself, voice trembling, “I was a mistake, a wee fancy before he chose proper.”
Panic clawed up her chest, and before sense could stop her, she turned and fled, skirts whispering against the stone as tears burned her eyes.
She wandered the halls without seeing them, her thoughts tumbling wild and sharp.
“Daenae be a fool, Eva,” she muttered, pressing a hand to her brow, “ye kent all along ye were nae fit for a laird.”
Her steps slowed only an hour later, when she glimpsed the stables through an open arch and saw Connor striding with purpose, issuing orders, his posture hard and distant.
“He’s leavin’,” she told herself hoarsely, “leavin’ without a word to me, just like that.”
Her feet carried her forward before fear could root her in place, and she burst into the yard, heart hammering. She had demanded answers, her voice breaking as she asked where he was bound, only to be met with cold words and colder eyes.
When he turned away without explanation, the final thread of hope inside her snapped.
Now she stood alone, the echo of hooves and hurried voices ringing in her ears, her chest aching with every breath.
“He’s chosen them,” she whispered, hugging her arms around herself, “chosen some fine Laird’s daughter with silks and gold to offer the clan.”
Her tears fell freely as she shook her head, disbelief and hurt tangling tight. “I should’ve known better than to dream,” shemurmured, staring at the ground, certain at last that she had been cast aside.
She made her way to her chamber and threw herself on the bed, tears streaking her cheeks, the heavy quilt tangled around her legs. The sound of her own quiet sobs filled the room until the door creaked open. Annabeth entered, leaving it ajar, her eyes soft with concern as she hurried to Eva’s side.
“Eva, lass, what’s the matter? Why do I find ye in tears like this?” Annabeth asked, her voice gentle, yet tinged with worry.
Eva wiped at her eyes, her voice trembling. “It’s… it’s Connor, Maither. He… he was so cold to me today. I daenae understand it… I daenae ken what I did to deserve it.”
Annabeth’s hand rested on Eva’s shoulder, squeezing it gently. “Now, now, lass. Sit up and tell me what happened. Speak to me plain. For there’s nothin’ that would shock me.”
Eva sniffled and sat upright, clutching the quilt to her chest. “I went to the stables to ask him where he was goin’… just to see him, and he snapped at me. He said it was none of me business, Annabeth. He… he was harsh, and I felt… small, as if I meant nothin’ to him at all.”
Eva didn't have the heart to tell her mother about the letters, not yet. She wasn't sure she had understood it just yet.
Annabeth’s brow furrowed, and she shook her head slowly. “Oh, Eva… ye know how the Laird can be at times. But harsh words, that is nay excuse to let them cut into yer heart like a dagger.”
Eva pressed her hands over her face, her voice breaking. “But maither… it hurts. I care for him so much, and then he turns away, and I feel… I feel like he wishes I were gone. I cannae stand it!”
Annabeth lifted Eva’s chin gently, looking into her daughter’s eyes. “Listen to me, lass. Connor… he has burdens, more than ye can ken. He keeps them close to his chest, and sometimes he pushes away the very ones he cares for most. His coldness isnae about ye… It’s about the weight he bears.”
Eva shook her head, tears still glistening. “But how can I ken that, Maither? How can I nae feel rejected when he speaks to me with such… such distance?”
Annabeth pulled Eva into a warm embrace, holding her tight. “Ye ken in yer heart, lass, that he loves ye. Sometimes the men of our clan show it in ways that daenae make sense to the heart. Ye must give him time… and patience, and show him that yer there, even when he’s lost in himself.”
