His eyes felt as if a tonne of rocks were hanging off them, and his legs felt leaden despite his best efforts to move them. Unwittingly letting out a rumbling groan as he forced his eyes open, the moonlight was the first thing that greeted Connor the moment he managed to crack them open, noticing that a low ceiling lay above, along with a half-opened window which alleviated some of the stuffiness. Why did they have the fire going? It was hot enough in here.
Twitching his fingers, a startled gasp sounded when he tried to move his left hand, and before he knew it, a wondrous scene greeted him, illuminated even further by moonlight. "Connor, you're awake! Are you feeling alright? Does your head pound? Oh!" she gasped again, brushing fingers against his forehead and granting him a beautiful smile. "Your fever is gone, thank Heavens!"
Bustling off, the male mourned the loss of her from his sight, yet could do nothing to put her in his view again. He could barely lift his arms, how did he expect to be able to lift himself off the bed? Luckily however, she quickly came hurrying back with a fresh towel and a mug of broth, using the towel to wipe off the remnants of his sweat, before sitting against the bed and adjusting him so his head rested on her thigh. "Here, drink this please."
"Ho-how long have I been here?" he croaked out, realizing just how dry and parched his throat was.
"Almost three days now. Here." Only when the salty broth touched his tongue did Connor realize just how empty his stomach felt. Like a dying man given ambrosia, he gulped the salty liquid down his throat, eagerly going for seconds when Evie lifted a second bowl up his lips. The sated sigh of satisfaction lifted a huge weight off the girl's chest and heart, a smile that she had almost forgotten she owned gracing her lips when his weary eyes met hers.
"I'm sorry, fer making ye worry."
"As you should be. Never take such a chance again, Captain Gilroy, for I may not find it in me to save you the next time." Feigning anger, she helped him sit up, pulling open the windows to display the slowly rising sun before turning to glare at the tired man. "What would possess you to ride into a fight, when you had just gotten your head stitched up? If Old Agatha hadn't been around, you would've died the first time around."
"I wouldna. For ye wouldn't have let me."
"And what makes you think so?" Evie retorted, scowling at the triumphant smile Connor wore. Truth was, she had been scared half witless since Connor's descent into unconsciousness. Whatever little she ate or drank, she only remembered because Hammond or Gillian had brought it for her. Fabian had left two days prior, bearing the letter she had written for her father, begging him to leave her be in the Highlands. Connor's constant incoherent mumbles in his unconsciousness, his writhing which threatened to give him even more injuries had she not summoned for Hammond's help, all of which pointed to an infection. She had never tended to an injury as closely as she saw to Connor's, for above all, she feared a head injury she couldn't do anything about.
His obsidian gaze was perhaps her most precious sight for now... even if he was wearing a smug look amidst the weary eyes. "Because ye hadna left my side for the past three days." Before Evie could protest her presence (which she would be lying), he tugged at her with a strength that she was surprised an injured man could possess, pulling her against his side. "Ye bones ache from sleeping on the ground, ye have grown thinner from not eating properly. Yer cheeks are sunken and yer hair looks a right mess, Evie. Ye haven't been to a proper bed for days."
Suddenly, Evie felt horrified at her atrocious outlook. Surely she must look like a homeless woman? It didn't help that she had forgotten to take off the apron before she had fallen asleep. With the green stains from pounded herbs, watermarks and god knows what else... Heavens, she probably looked frightful! Suddenly very aware of how she looked like, Evie tried to wriggle her way out of Connor's hold, but the warrior simply tightened his hold around her waist, smirking when he realised how abashed she suddenly looked.
"Nae, lass. Ye still look beautiful in my eyes."
"Liar. I look like a fright." she muttered, scowling. He laughed, a low rumble Evie could feel from her back.
"Ye look beautiful, and since tis my eyes which does the judgement, I should think they be right." Wincing as he used his other arm to pull her across, shifting her body so the redhead now sat up, but still closely tucked to his thigh, Connor lifted a finger to tilt her chin upwards, brushing the back of his hand against her sallow cheeks. "I'm sorry, lass."
"I was worried sick, you buffoon. I thought... I thought you wouldn't wake up." Her voice and it's choked tone brought a stab of pain to his heart. He frowned as he brushed his thumb against her cheek, sighed as he pulled her in against his chest, holding her tightly. She didn't put up a fight, merely fisting her hands against his sheer muslin shirt, as if her tight grip would hold back the tears she didn't want to show. "I will be more careful, I promise. If ye promise that ye would take care of yerself, or learn how."
"How?" her voice muffled against his shirt, neither showing any inclination to move. Connor for one, was enjoying the heat of her little body tucked up against his a little too much. "Gillian will teach ye. Highland woman will always know how to defend themselves."
"Am I one?"
"I will make you one. Once you marry me, ye will be."
"And who says I will marry you?"
"Do ye not wish so?" a surprised tone colored his voice, pulling back and holding Evie by her shoulders, Connor peered at her green eyes. Worry colored his gaze, a fact that made her grin a cheeky grin, almost laughing as Connor frowned. "Why do you always look so worried?"
Unable to help herself, she reached to brush against his chin. It was amazing, how she could tend to him as her patient for days feeling nothing each time she undressed him to wipe him down, to change his wound or to feed him liquids, but right now as her bare skin touched his, electricity shot wherever their skin came in contact, making Evie catch her breathe as their eyes locked. "Are you always sad, Connor?"
"Nae, I am not sad." he replied, after a moment's pause. "I... have a lot on my mind."
"Like your parents, and your clan?"
Her words made him whip his gaze to her, wide-eyed as if he was horrified. Quickly laying a palm on his arm, she shook her head. "I know, Connor. Gillian told me the first night I came here." He cursed immediately, scowling again, a sight Evie was growing thoroughly sick of. "Connor, I thought I should know, shouldn't I? We... I love being in the Highlands. It's everything Mother had ever told me, and more. But I think the best part about being here is the fact that it is your home, the place you grew up in. I cannot help but walk around in the Keep and smile thinking you may have played as a boy there, or trained there as a young man."
"You refuse to tell me about you, yet you enchant me so. When Gillian told me your story, I... I cannot make you be part of the people who was the reason you wear that frown on your face everyday. I love being with you, but I cannot ask that of you."
"But I dinna need you to ask that of me." he cut in, his gaze determined and stubborn now. Grabbing her two hands, he held them together, taking a deep breathe as if steeling himself for something. "If it's for ye, I can and I will."
"Evie, yer the reason I don't frown as much as I do any longer. Yer laughter makes me smile, the way ye think the best of everything and everyone gives me hope that the people and the lifestyle in England isna as bad as I thought it was. I admit, I dinna fancy the idea of being one of the fops and dandies in London, but so long as yer around, perhaps it wouldna be so bad."
"They did horrible things to you, Connor. Surely you canno-"
"I said it before, Evie. Tis for you."
"Why me?"
"Ye remind me of a life worth living. That I am worthy of something, that I could be something. That revenge is something that merely festers and rots, and I dinna want to rot away thinking dark thoughts. Ye remind me of joy." he paused, as if a stricken thought suddenly entered his mind. "Or is it because ye have yer attentions somewhere else, Evie?"
Her eyes widened, and Connor's relief was palpable when she violently shook her head. "No! Fabian... Fabian's a wonderful friend. But he and I... nothing could happen. I think of him too much like a big brother, as my best friend's brother to be anything at all. Besides, he needed my dowry, that was why he courted me."
"I dinna need yer dowry, Evie. Yer father can give it to charity, fer all I care." Lacing their fingers together, he pulled her closer, squeezing her hands. "I love ye, Lady Evelyn Verrick. For every laugh you give me, every smile you remind me to do, every strand of your bright hair, and every drop of your vivacious, brazen nature. Ye give my life meaning, and I dinna think I could ever let you go."
"That's great. Because I don't think I can leave you either."
She smiled, Connor stirred, joy exploding within him at the future where Evie would never leave him, as he tugged her to him and claimed what was his, and what he would never let go.
---
The next month passed in a swirl, Connor's recovery taking another week before Evie allowed him belowstairs to rejoin the family. He had bouts of nausea and headaches which had worried Evie, but Gillian had merely heckled him by teasing him about being pregnant, a joke that Hammond had not let pass without laughing uproariously each time he found Connor with his head in a bucket. Even Evie had been amused after awhile, for she knew it was just the after effects of getting hit too hard in the head, much to the warrior's displeasure.
The day he returned below stairs to join them for supper, a rousing cheer had went up. He had balked at the idea of being helped down the stairs at first, but halfway through he soon found himself leaning heavily in his assistant Balfour's shoulder, thankful for the extra support. The meal had been exhausting, even if it had been what Connor needed to remind him of the family he actually had, a family that Evie had to remind he owned.
Despite finding it hard to tear his eyes away from the redhead beauty seated next to his best friend the whole night, it was a night that he thoroughly enjoyed from the roasts that Mrs O'Leary had outdone herself with (god, the bland porridge and stews he's been having were enough to kill his tastebuds), to the jokes and comradeship he had missed with his men, it was a night that just left him with warm feelings as he hobbled into the study with Hammond after the night had wound down. Grateful for his friend's help, Connor groaned as he fell into one of the settee's, scowling.
"I feel like a toddler."
Hammond laughed, settling in one opposite him, his glass of mulled wine still with him. Gillian and Evie had gone ahead to assist Mrs. O'Leary and her girls to clear up the hall and enjoy some time themselves before bedtime. Besides, Connor needed Hammond's help with something.
"I will marry Evie."
"Have ye asked her?" his best friend asked with a raised brow, with nary more then an amused smile. Obviously, the news wasn't exactly news to Hammond, a fact that Connor himself found entertaining. Deciding to let the matter slide however, he nodded. "I have. Although we never had a straight answer, but she's never denied me."
"And ye asked me here to...?"
"Ask yer permission."
"Why me?" Hammond blinked rapidly in surprise. While he had grown to be quite fond of his cousin in the past month they had been together, he'd never been her guardian enough, not in his mind anyway.
"Yer the closest I can get to a relation to her."
"Why not wait till her faither gets here? Ye do know she sent Fabian back with a letter for him, nae?"
"I do. She told me." In fact, Evie had told him a great many things. In the past month he had took to recuperate, she had spent most of her time there, often exchanging stories regarding his boyhood, or her life back in England. He had learned a great many things regarding his strong headed sweetheart, from her loving the frigid water and immersing herself in it, to her sweet tooth for cakes and her slowly developing a fondness Mrs. O'Leary's bannocks and apple pies.
In turn, he too had shared with her his boyhood dreams of being as great and gentle a laird as his father, and how they had been crushed with the death and destruction of his clan. He told her of his determination to never be what his father had be, to never let love still his sword arm, and swore to protect those he held dear.
"Which includes you." he had said. Connor could remember the blush which had almost matched the shade of her hair, a fact that amused him greatly, earning him a swat on his shoulder when he mentioned the fact out loud. Her blush remained though. Perhaps it was the pretty shade of pink so rarely seen on someone so outspoken as Evie. Or maybe it was because the full moon hung so precariously through the open window. Whichever reason it was that pushed Connor to do so that night he didn't know, but he clearly remembered her response as he pulled her closer, nuzzled her neck as he whispered, "Would ye marry me, lass?"
"That depends," her answer had been, clear as a ringing bell, with a lilt of laughter hidden in its syllables. "If you ask properly."
That had been enough to seal the deal, and Connor had asked to see Hammond the next day, which led them to their current setting in the sitting room, an eager captain with hopeful black irises gazing at his chieftain. "I canna wait, Hammond, and face the chance that he may come and take her away. I dinna think I would be able to stand back and watch her leave.
"Ye don't intend to let her leave, do ye?"
"Nae."
"Well then, ye do know the Fairy Glen isn't too far a ride from here, dinna ye?"