Eva rested her head on her mother’s shoulder, letting herself be comforted. “I daenae ken if I can wait, Maither. I want him to… to show me, to let me in.”
Annabeth stroked her hair, her voice calm and soothing. “Patience, me sweet Eva. Love, true love, can withstand stormsof mood and silence. He will come back to ye, and when he does… he will see yer strength, and he willnae hide from ye again.”
Eva exhaled shakily, feeling some of the ache in her chest ease. “I… I hope ye’re right, Maither. I… I just want to be near him, and now I feel so far away.”
Annabeth kissed her forehead and whispered, “Ye are never far from him, lass, in spirit or heart. Keep that close, and ye will see… he will return, and all this hurt will be but a shadow of the love that waits for ye.”
Eva decided then she couldn't keep the truth hidden any longer.
“That's nae the whole truth, Maither. I heard… I heard him talkin’ about letters he received from the other Lairds. They want him to pick a bride from one of their daughters. Now he has left without explanation, and I fear he has gone to make negotiations to marry one of their daughters and nae me.”
Eva looked at her mother as shock crossed her face.
Eva sat upon the edge of her bed, her hands knotted in her skirts as tears slipped down her cheeks, when a gentle clearing of a throat sounded from the doorway. She and her mother both looked up to see Margaret standing upon the threshold, her silver hair neatly braided and her expression calm yet intent. Eva’s heart lurched, shame and fear tangling as she hastily wiped at her face.
“Me lady,” Eva murmured, struggling to rise, unsure if she was about to be scolded or dismissed.
Margaret lifted a hand, her voice soft but steady as she said, “Daenae trouble yerself, lass, stay where ye are.”
She stepped fully into the chamber, her sharp eyes taking in Eva’s tear-streaked face and Annabeth’s worried posture.
“I could hear the distress in yer voice from the corridor,” Margaret continued, her tone not unkind.
“Indeed, she is greatly distressed. What is the meanin’ of her grandson up and leavin' in such haste and bein’ cold to me daughter?” Annabeth asked.
“Maither, please. If he is to cast me aside, I daenae think Lady Margaret had anythin’ to do with it. He is a man of strong will and does as he pleases,” Eva said.
“What do ye mean by this?” Margaret asked.
“It is nay use. I heard ye and Connor speakin’ of the letters the Lairds sent askin’ him to take one of their daughters. And now Connor has left without a word to me except to be very cold, mean, and refuse to explain where he was headin',” Eva said. A sob escaped her as she could not hold back her sorrow.
Eva swallowed hard and whispered, “I fear I’ve misunderstood things greatly, me lady. I thought he cared for me deeply, and I was wrong.”
Margaret came closer and sat upon the chair near the hearth, folding her hands in her lap.
“Eva,” she said plainly, meeting her gaze, “Connor is nae leavin’ ye, nor is he seekin’ another bride.”
Eva’s breath caught, disbelief flickering across her face as she shook her head. “Then why,” she asked softly, her voice cracking, “why did he leave so sudden, with nay word to me at all?”
Margaret sighed, the sound heavy with old memories, and glanced briefly toward the window.
“It isnae yer fault, child,” she said gently, “nor is it about the weddin’.”
Eva leaned forward, hanging on every word, her heart pounding anew.
“There was news this day,” Margaret went on, “an update in the matter of his brother’s death. Michael.”
At the mention of this, Eva’s eyes widened, shock rippling through her.
Margaret’s voice lowered as if the walls themselves might listen.
“A young man has been seen on the road near McKay lands,” she explained, “a lad with the very same birthmark his Michael bore upon his neck.”
Eva gasped, her hand flying to her mouth as a rush of emotions flooded her.
“Alive?” she whispered, scarcely daring to hope.
Margaret nodded once. “Alive, perhaps, though naught is certain yet. That is why Connor left so urgently.”
