Chapter 20

Her feet felt as if she pranced on clouds, a constant state ever since Connor had stirred from his unconscious slumber a month ago. And since then, Evie had been a constant presence by him, ensuring that nothing would flare up again from his healing. She was an attentive girl, who paid even greater heed to injuries then Agatha did, a fact that did not go by unnoticed by the people of the clan. Soon, they came to ask her for advice. While Evie was discomforted by the act, she tried her best to help them.

Of course, Old Agatha didn't find fault in it, for the old lady herself admitted that her eyesight was failing. To Evie's credit, she did need the elder's advice on certain appropriate herbs to use, but eventually Evie found herself quite comfortable in the Keep. Of course, there was the lingering reminder that she should've been home by now, but the redhead simply could not bring herself to return home, especially not when she had already admitted to Connor that she couldn't leave him.

The month spent by his side, she grew to learn more about the dark warrior in her life. He was a hard taskmaster, but Evie learned that he was harsh because he didn't want his men to die on the field. Protective and fiercely loyal, his dark gaze still brought chills to her each time their eyes met. And while one would've assumed it was an effect that would die out after awhile, that tingle still ran down her spine each time she lay eyes on him.

The day after Connor had enough strength to return to the Keep's halls however, Evie found it increasingly odd that she couldn't find him for the day. She had changed his herbs in the afternoon, after spending the morning collecting herbs. Connor had caught her fingers and pulled her in for a brief kiss before the maids bustled in with her requested warm water and cloth, leading her to hide her flush, pretending to be busy until they had retreated.

"Lass, I will seek  ye out tonight."

"To-tonight?" she stammered, surprised.

"Aye. This eve, before dinner. Wear ye best gown, would ye? Although, make sure tis easy to ride in."

"What are you planning Connor Gilroy?" Evie asked, pretending to be huffed as she cleaned his wound and replaced the herbs and bandages.

"Nae questions. Do ye trust me?" It was a whispered question, as he gripped her hand and pressed a kiss on her wrist. It was the most chaste of actions, but even that was enough to make Evie flush again. Really now, it was beginning to get embarrassing, how easily Connor could get her to react the way she did.

"Of-of course I do Connor. But can't you tell me at least what are you planning?"

"I promise, ye will like it."

He had left after that, leaving her confused up till now. The Keep bustled with a humming business that was uncommon, even to her. While she had not been here for long, Evie had gotten used to knowing how the Keep functioned. This was usually the hour they prepared for dinner time... but why was Mrs. O'Leary fussing over an unusually busy kitchen?

Just as she was wandering towards the area however, she found herself intercepted when an equally redheaded girl swooped by before she reached the entrance, eventually dragging Evie halfway up the stairs before she realized who it was. "Gilly! Where are you bringing me?"

"To ye room o'course! Ye needs to prepare!"

"Prepare for what? What exactly is going on Gillian?"

"No time to explain! They are waiting for us. Quickly!"

Evie found herself quickly stripped by waiting maids in the room, and then ceremoniously dunked into a tub of water, being scrubbed and washed in every corner. Time passed in a blur, and the sun was beginning to set when she was laced up in a pale ivory dress. Flaring out from her waist below, the silken material was trimmed with lace around it's hem, a golden belt lying loosely just upon her hips. But it was the upper body which thoroughly stood out, the satin material hugging her body closely, a lace overlaying it above. The lace were the only material on her arms, tight up till her elbows, before they fanned out into loose bell-like sleeves which covered her the rest of the way. A square neckline made her collar bones stand out even more, accentuating a black-looking wheel-shaped pendant Gillian casted around her neck.

"Tis  the MacKenzie Marcasite. Yer mother, me aunt, left this with my faither before she left with yer faither to England. I think Papa wanted this returned to ye."

Fingers reached up to touch the pendant, a poignant feeling swelling in her when she felt the cold metallic surface, brushed against the dotted, ridged shape. The very fact that it was her mother's resonated within her, so much so that Evie didn't even notice as Gillian twisted her hair, leaving half of the red locks down as the other half was piled and pinned to form a chignon. Only when her cousin was pushing stalks of flowers into the chignon, did Evie finally look up.

"What exactly is happening, Gilly? Why am I being dressed such?"

"No time!" It was a phrase Evie was getting thoroughly sick of, but was given no time to process. She was immediately swept out of the Keep, towards a waiting horse. Without accepting her stuttering questions, Gillian hoisted Evie on the horse, getting on to a bay gelding herself. It was too late by the time Evie realized her white mare was hooked on to Gillian's gelding, so when they started moving, it was all Evie could do to keep a hold and not fall off as they cantered, focusing so much she couldn't even formulate further questions until they started to slow down.

Looking up as they finally drew to a stop, her green eyes widened when she saw the leafy boughs which formed some sort of a canopy, a pathway that looked freshly made, the twilight making everything seem even more magical as she got down her horse. "Where is this place?"

"Tis Fairy Glen. Come on."

No more protests left her lips, too busy marvelling at the twilight beauty to notice that Gillian was beginning to lead her into the pathway. Drops of dew still hung, a thick, musky scent lingering as they picked their way across the fresh path. Soon, Evie began to realize the pathway widening into a more well-worn one, and then suddenly a clearing formed.

The rush of water reached her ears first, but nothing could have prepared Evie for the beautiful small pools that were situated below rushing small rivers. With water so clear she could've used it as a mirror, the streaks of purple and orange reflected upon the pools only made everything seem even more magical.

And right in the middle of it, stood Connor, dressed in his best kilt, shiniest belt and most bleached tunic, his dark hair combed back, with the most triumphant smile on his face, as he tilted his head.

"Good eve, my lady."

"Connor, what is this place?"

"Did Gillian not tell ye? Tis Fairy Glen, the most beautiful place in our lands. I wanted nothing less, for when I wed ye, the most beautiful being I know."

"Wed me?" Evie echoed, very surprised now. Her heart thudded so hard, Evie was afraid it would jump out of her chest. Only then did she realize that Hammond now stood next to Gillian with a smile, and an unknown man dressed in pastor's garb was standing between the siblings, a smile on his face. "Tis Father Simmons, col ceather. Dinna fear, he has presided over our lands often, for he is a travelling pastor. We're lucky he happened to be nearby today."

"Aye. Else I would've sent for the nearest towns."

"Ye would, Connor? Tis funny. I thought ye dinna like pastors." the Father teased, laughing as Connor scowled and replied. "I still dinna. But Evie deserves a proper wedding."

"I never said I would wed ye!"

"Ye wouldna?" Connor suddenly whirled with a wide-eyed look, staring with his heart trapped and beating wildly in his throat. She wouldn't?!

"Well, you didn't... you never asked!" she threw back in his face, flushing furiously now and trying to hide her embarrassment by a vicious glare she threw at him. In response, he threw his head back and laughed, advancing on her to take her hands and pull them up to his lips. "Well, can I ask ye now then?"

She didn't respond, furiously averting her eyes for she was sure her knees would collapse beneath her if she gazed into his obsidian irises.

"Lady Evelyn Verrick, would ye do me the greatest honor of becoming me wife, me partner?"

"What of our lives, Connor? I can't ask of you to come-"

"I would. For ye. Withoot ye, I canna imagine life. Not if I canna see yer smile, hear yer laughter, and spend the rest of me life making ye happy." he paused, finally deciding he had enough of her coy game. Using his fingers to tilt her chin upwards, the uncertainty that lingered in her green depths had Connor squeezing the other hand he held in his own. "I will be Lord Karlsborough if it means I get ye. But I only ask fer us to return here as oft as we can manage it."

"Of course! I would love to spend every month here if I can."

"So does that mean ye would marry me?"

She hesitated, unsure of what to say. Glancing up at his earnest eyes, Evie knew with a look that he was not lying. The way he gazed intensely at her, jaw squared as if afraid of her answer, fingers clutching her tightly, there was no mistake that there was no ulterior motive behind Connor Gilroy asking, nothing other then a desire to be with her. The nod of her head came with a smile, to which the dark-haired warrior smile, whirling around to beckon for the pastor to come forward.

Evie's eyes widened when he produced a small dagger, with a jewel-encrusted hilt. Her eyes widened, instinctively taking a step back, held back only when Connor tugged on her. She turned surprised and nervous eyes on him, nerves he calmed with a shake of his head. "Dinna be afraid lass. Tis a Highland ritual, a handfast. It's traditional, and doesna come with all the necessary pre-wedding stuff ye need to do in the Lowlands. Here, a handfast signifies immediate binding, fer I dinna think I can wait any longer fer ye."

Raising a brow, Evie flushed when Hammond guffawed, a clueless Gillian blinking in surprise, especially when the redhead swatted her soon-to-be-husband. "I should make you wait even longer, just because of this."

"Please no. There is no one else around, and Hammond wouldna tell anyone else, wouldn't he?" it was a dangerous tone that accompanied a glare Connor shot at his best friend. Staring until the laird toned down, Connor turned to Evie with a mollified look, arranging them so they stood before the Father, before he ripped a part of his plaid with a loud sound.

"Tis will hurt, but it'll be worth it."

The gentle whisper was all she got as Connor held her wrist out, for the next thing she knew, sharp pain slashed across the top of her wrist, as fresh blood oozed out. Evie's gasp resounded, caught by surprise by the pain before she even noticed the pastor doing the same. Hammond then stepped forward, accepting Connor's plaid. He grabbed their bleeding arms, placing them wound upon wound on each other, and then tied their wrists together tightly before stepping back.

"Repeat after me, lass."

"In English, Father." Connor requested, to which the pastor widened his eyes, but heaved an ever-suffering sigh as if he was used to the shenanigans he did, and gave in.

"Ye are Blood of my Blood, and Bone of my Bone,

I give ye my Body, that two become one,

I give ye my Spirit, till our Life shall be done.

Ye cannon possess me fer I belong to meself,

But while we both wish it, I give ye that which is mine to give.

Ye cannon command it, fer I am a free person.

But I shall serve ye in ways that ye require."

The words were in a heavy brogue, but the more Evie repeated what was said in accordance with Connor, the more a sense of peace and harmony settled upon her. By the time the last sentence was uttered, her chest felt tight with emotion, her breath heavy and warm, barely noticing when Gillian pressed a goblet of mulled wine in her hands. "Drink, lass." Connor's gentle voice prompted her to take a gulp, afore he grabbed the goblet and downed the rest, and the siblings along with the pastor, clapped.

"I now pronounce ye man, and wife. Please, kiss yer new bride."

It was the most welcome words he had ever heard, the groom gladly dropping their bound arms to pull Evie closer to him. The very fact that she now was legally (in Scottish traditional laws anyway) his simply made his grip even more possessive, a streak of undiluted need intoxicating the dark gaze Evie often got lost in. Her eyes fluttered close as he drew nearer, but the kiss Evie prepared for never came for just then, the loud sound of shouting arrived at their area, before a very familiar voice came crashing over what previously was an ethereal, almost magical place.

"I demand to see my daughter!"