She stood in the center of the study like a trapped bird, her breath coming too fast as the heavy door clicked shut behind them. Her palms were damp, and her heart hammered against her ribs as though seeking escape. She had no notion why the laird had dragged her here, nor what fate awaited her.
“Ye’ll have to excuse me grandmaither Margaret’s behavior. Now, what’s the name of me future bride?” Connor asked, his voice smooth as dark honey and twice as dangerous. He stepped closer, each stride a deliberate claim on the room.
“Why?” she asked.
“Why?” he added, though mischief sparked in his black eyes. “Because I want to ken what name I’ll be growlin’ in bed.”
Eva gasped. She felt heat explode across her cheeks, the words striking her like a slap and a caress all at once.
“How dare ye,” she blurted, her voice pitching high from panic. She backed toward a bookshelf, wishing she could melt into the stone. His suggestive tone left her flustered, breathless, and even more terrified.
Connor’s lips curved, not quite a smile, more a man amused by a challenge. He braced an arm against the wall near her shoulder but didn’t touch her, his posture all confidence and dangerous intent.
“Lass, ye think I cannae see ye tremblin’, and ye expect me to believe ye’re nae stirred?” he murmured. The warmth of him seemed to press against her skin without a single touch.
Eva lifted her chin, trying to find the dignity she feared she’d dropped somewhere in the great hall.
“I’m stirred because ye abducted me and are speakin’ of marriage,” she said, though her voice wavered. She wished desperately for the herbs hidden in her cloak, anything that made sense in this madness. “Tossin’ bold words doesnae mean I’ll melt for ye.”
“I daenae need ye meltin’, only listenin’,” he said, though his eyes traced her face with bold curiosity. She watched him study her as if she were a puzzle he intended to solve by hand.
“But ye’ve spirit, and I’ll nae lie, it suits me fine.”
Eva swallowed hard, her pulse jumping like a startled hare as she held his gaze despite the heat in her veins.
“Spirit or nae, I’ll nae be commanded like one of yer guards,” she said, her voice steadier now. His nearness rattled her, yet she refused to show weakness. “And if ye growl anythin’ in bed, it willnae be me name, for I’m nae stayin’ long enough to wed.”
Connor stepped back slowly, as though granting her air was a concession he chose rather than owed. Something unreadableglinted in his eyes: respect, challenge, and a heat that made her toes curl inside her boots.
“We’ll see, lass,” he replied, his voice low enough to stir every nerve she possessed.
And Eva realized then that escaping him might be far harder than stealing from him.
CHAPTER FIVE
Connor raised an eyebrow at the lass’s sheer audacity, her bold refusal hanging in the air like a thrown gauntlet. He stared at her, studying every nervous twitch, every darting glance she made about the room. Something about her didn’t add up, and he felt the tight prickle of suspicion coil through him.
What business did a villager have sneakin’ about durin’ a ceilidh meant for the highest people of the nearby clans?
He folded his arms across his broad chest and tilted his head.
“If ye arenae here to vie fer me hand, then why are ye in me castle at all?” His voice dropped low, sharp as a blade unsheathed.
He noticed she looked like she wished she could vanish into the floor.
“I… I was forced to attend,” she stammered, cheeks flushing. “Me parents insisted on it, so I came.” Her eyes darted away from his, too quickly for Connor’s liking.
Connor narrowed his eyes, every instinct in him sharpening. “Daenae lie to me, lass,” he warned, voice rumbling with growing irritation. “I ken the sound of a lie the same way I ken the howl of a wolf.” He stepped closer, watching the panic bloom across her face.
She moved swiftly across the room, putting distance between them, though her steps were clumsy with nerves.
“I daenae ken what ye’re talkin’ about,” she said, her voice pitched higher than before. Her fingers twisted together as though she wished she could hide them. Connor watched her movements, noting each frantic gesture with rising suspicion.
A dark thought flickered in his mind, unwelcome yet persistent.
“Are ye a spy?” he demanded, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl. “Sent by me enemies to slither through me halls?”
The surge of protectiveness over his clan drove his temper hotter. He watched Eva’s eyes widen with pure panic and outrage.
