Chapter 3 - Photo of Hammond

Used to a boisterous mealtime back in the MacKenzie Keep, Connor was once again shifting uneasily in his seat as their third course was served to them. Instead of trenchers food passed around, the porcelain tableware and dainty utensils were foreign in Connor's hands, and even Hammond faced trouble as he miserably tried to slice through the venison served to them. Why in God's name must they choose to use useless serrated knives instead of a perfectly good hunting knife to cut meat, Connor had no idea, but he sure enough had had enough of the meal.

The scrape of his chair bounced off the halls, as the dark headed warrior of the MacKenzie clan stood up and bowed to his host. "I do apologize Lord Verrick, but I fear I've been tired out from our trip. The meal has been wonderful, but I'll take my leave now to my chambers." He met Hammond's raised look of mocking disbelief, his chief not at all believing his claim to be tired, but Connor merely scowled and took his leave of the hall.

For a warrior used to the flighty Highland weathers, spending days at a skirmish or battle and training for hours on end, tired was practically not existent in Connor's dictionary. Yet as much as he believed he feared nothing, Connor was beginning to wonder if the stifling nature of English tradition was his one downfall.

Lost in his mulling complaints within his head, it wasn't till he took a corner and realized he now faced a darkened, unfamiliar corridor, did the warrior finally realize he had quite simply lost his way. MacKenzie Keep was a place he grew up with, Connor would've been able to navigate his way around it with his eyes closed and going backwards. The castle now though, was a different manner. Cursing fluently, he traced his steps back again, scowling as he tried to find his way once more, his mind going back to the dining area.

The daughter they had come to meet was nice, a small oaken haired girl who spoke little and kept to herself. Compared to the boisterous nature of his best friend, Connor was expecting her to be... not so quiet. Even Gillian MacKenzie, sister to his best friend as quiet as she was, was leagues more outlandish then the girl that had been presented to them as Evelyn Verrick. Hammond, he could see, was at a loss of how to deal with her. The meek demeanour of who they now know as Evelyn Verrick was foreign, yet before Connor could ponder longer upon the matter, he suddenly got his thoughts messed up when he felt a warm body knock into him.

The male instinctively reached out to grab the body, realizing belatedly that his arms spanned a waist so small it could not be mistaken for a guy's. Moments later, Connor found his breath caught as he looked into a pair of startled emeralds embedded in a pale face, further accentuated by a head of ruby red hair, the colors of the sunset in the evening. "Careful where you're going, little lady. I won't always be around to catch you." a spark of his usual coy demeanour returned as he straightened her up, cocking a lopsided grin when she nervously dusted her serviceable brown skirt down. Was she a servant girl? Yet somehow, the way she held herself seemed to distract Connor from that.

The girl smiled at him, but the more he waited, the more he realized no words were going to come out of her. Was she mute? Or deaf? "Are you alright?" he tried again, amused when she nodded, yet still spoke no words. "That's good to hear. I'm afraid I've... lost my way. I can't seem to find my way back to the guest wing." Her eyes sparkled with unvoiced laughter, her smile so bright that Connor couldn't help but to smile in return as she cocked her finger at him to follow her. "Do you work here? Is that why  you know your way around here?"

She paused to look at him, as if considering her answer, before rolling her shoulders and giving shake of her head. "You don't work here?" For a second, he paused in his steps, mild suspicion coming back. She was English... or was she? Something about her did not strike Connor as completely English, yet if she didn't work here, how did she know her way around? His red-haired angel seemed undeterred though, and instead grabbed his wrist against his will, dragging him forward to follow her again. Left with little choice, Connor went along with her, going up stairs and winding hallways before they finally arrived at the familiar, well lit hallway.

There, she released his wrist and waved her hand at the hallway, as if asking him for confirmation. "Yeah, my room is the second one from the right. Th-Thanks." Manners ingrained in him made him thank her, but when she made a move to leave, Connor couldn't help but to jump forward, taking her wrist this time, a little disappointed to be parted from her. Which was weird because I haven't even heard her speak, really. What's the matter with you Gilroy?

"What's your name? Would I see you again?" If he had heard himself, Connor would have blanched at how desperate he sounded. But somehow, her green eyes sparkling like gems, had branded themselves into his minds eye.

Again, silence met his question, but he knew she heard him, for her knowing green eyes took what felt like a milennia to look at him, before she nodded, much to his relief. With left hand, she pointed at an open window at the moonlight, and then moved her finger to the entrance off the second landing. "Same time tomorrow? Through... there?" Connor hazarded a guess. She nodded, before darting off again into the darkened hallways, and Connor had to figure out a way to explain the blooming disappointment in his chest.

---

The four walls of her room was beginning to get interminable. There was a footman stationed outside her door, and he had been assigned to escorting her wherever she was to go. Even the library was off limits to her, and while she was not a prisoner in her own room, with how limited she was in places she could go now, Evie certainly felt that way.

Giving a last frustrated grunt, Evie threw herself on her bed, burying her head in her pillow and using it to muffle the loud scream she gave. The sun shone brightly in her window, but she was stuck in her room because of her father's inane plan, and for what? So she could be sequestered away like a princess? She didn't want to be one.

Her only saving grace was the meeting she looked forward to that night.

At the memory of the dark, rugged male she had literally ran into the night before, Evie flipped over to lay on her back, eyes staring at her ceiling with a soft smile she didn't even realize was playing around her lips. Sin was perhaps the only way Evie could think of to describe him, even after the many, many syllables of words in the English dictionary her governess had spent years teaching her. Dark hair, thick and with a slight curl that hugs the nape of his neck, making her wonder just what it felt like to be so close to him.

His eyes were like inky whirlpools that made Evie feel as if she could drown forever in them, and if she had closed her eyes, Evie could almost hear the husky timbre of his voice as he spoke to her. Oh, how she wanted to respond to him, but how could she, when she was trying to find a loophole to not defy her father's instructions yet still see the Highlanders who had come practically out of her mother's stories? His voice was as she had imagined their voices would be, a deep baritone with a rugged timbre, as if it was a hint of a thunderstorm on a downcast day.

Was her imagination that good? It was almost as if she could hear him right... wait, she could hear him right outside the door!

It was through sheer luck that Evie didn't trip over her own legs from the tangle of her gown as she scrambled to press her ear to the door of her room.

"I presume this is your room, Lady Evelyn? I do hope you've had a lovely time. I'm sorry, I did warn your Hammond that I was not the best conversationalist, but my chief had some business to discuss with your father."

"Oh, it's no problem at all Captain Gilroy. I appreciate being walked back, although I do know my way around my house." Evie heard Amelia's voice respond with a light laugh. Did she sound happy? A small part within Evie clenched, whether it was envy or jealousy she didn't dare to identify. He laughed along with her, a sound that reverberated and wrapped her like a warm blanket. Did his eyes sparkle when he laughed? What did he and Amelia spoke about? Have she been showing him around the castle? Did he know that she loved the turrets right on top? Or the lake just across the crest of hills.

"Good evening, Captain. I'll see you later at dinner."

Hearing that jolted Evie back from her own thoughts, causing her to quickly rush back, flinging herself on the bed just as Amelia pushed he door open to enter, a frozen smile on her face. "Amelia! I heard you speaking with him. How was he? What's his name? Who was he? Was he the Laird I heard about? Is he mother's cousin?" Because for some reason, Evie didn't like the idea that he may be her second cousin. Yet, they looked nothing alike, as different as midnight and sunset.

"He's the Laird's first in command, Captain Connor Gilroy. And... why are you so flushed, my Lady?"

"Oh! Nothing, I just-just-it's.... Do tell me more, Amelia. What have you guys done today? Why are they here? How long are they here for?" It was as if Evie couldn't stop asking, popping up to drag Amelia to her bed, plopping her friend and lady's maid next to her.

"The Laird MacKenzie and his men would be around for the next week. Apparently, your uncle asked Laird MacKenzie to promise to check on you on his deathbed. Was your mother close to her brother? He seemed awfully concerned, with the way his eyes kept following me."

"Oh, I'm not sure. Mother often spoke fondly of her brother, and I think she does miss him, but familial connection was perhaps as deep as it ran?"

"Odd then." Amelia paused, as if contemplating, but Evie's impatience nudged her again, as she bounced on her bed and tugged at her friend's hand. "What else have you guys done, Amelia? C'mon, tell me!" Evie felt a little guilty, for she could see that something bothered Amelia, but she couldn't deny the insatiable curiosity she now had burning inside her. What had happened with Connor? Oh even his name sounded so impossibly sturdy, quite unlike all the Edmund's and weak livered Trevor's who had come calling on her since her comoeut.

"Your father told me to bring them around the grounds today, but we didn't go beyond the castle gates. They explored the halls basically, and then the Laird mentioned he'd like to train so I left them at the fields behind the castle, met them for luncheon after and now they have retired to freshen up before dinner. I heard they'll be playing chess in the sitting room."

"Training? Do you think they'll be in the training field everyday?"

"From the looks of it, looks likely. They picked up their weapons very eagerly. Of course, your father had placed guards around the area. Seems like Lord Verrick still doesn't trust them."

Evie huffed at that, rolling her eyes. "It'd be the day where Father trusts anyone at all. Oh, I do wish Mother was still around." For the thousandth time that day, Evie wished her impossible wish, and Amelia brushed her hands on her head. "I know you do, my Lady. It's deuced difficult to stand in your place too. I keep forgetting to turn around when someone calls me Evelyn." The girls laughed, before Amelia nudged at her lady to sit up, guiding her towards the settee. "Your hair is a mess. Has Bridget even been tending to you? And you're wearing a horrible gown, it's unbecoming!"

"It's not Bridget's fault," Evie tried to defend, when Amelia began fussing over her tangled red locks. "I simply didn't see a point in getting dressed in anyway when I can't even exit my own room!"

"Well technically, you can. I think your father is bringing them out hunting on the morrow. You could slip into the library for some books?"

"They are?" A pang of disappointment hit her. Does that mean she wouldn't be able to see her midnight companion, if he wanted to get enough rest for the hunt on the morrow? Amelia nodded, not noticing the change in Evie's demeanor as he ran the brush through her thick locks. "I'll be going with them, I think I'm going to have to borrow one of your riding habits."

"Please take them, I've got too many. Father's only way of ever showing affection is through excessive gifts anyway." In a way, Evie didn't want knew Gregory Verrick held no ill will to his daughter. He simply didn't know how to be a father at all. Watching as Amelia twisted the red tresses into a simple chignon on her head, her eyes followed the small sized brunette lady's maid padding over to her wardrobe, pulling out a burgundy day dress with a smile. "Here, at least wear this. I'll lay out your night rail before I head down to dinner. Do take care of yourself, my lady, when I'm not around."

"Oh Amelia, I'm no longer a child of eighteen, I can take care of myself." It was with all the warmth in the world that Evie said that, unable to resist going over to give a brief hug to the only one in the whole castle who possibly knew the wild child beneath her attempt to be a disciplined daughter to the Viscount. Amelia knew Evie so well that she even re-hemmed and reinforced all the dresses her father bought for her, for she knew how much trouble Evie could get in. A ridiculously caring soul lay beneath the brown eyed, simple veneer of her lady's maid, and Evie treasured Amelia for it.

"I know, my Lady. You just need to be reminded occasionally." she laughed, returning the hug just as a knock was rapped against the door. "Amelia," Bridget's voice floated across. "Lord Verrick is reminding you to come down soon, as the dinner is about to begin."

"Oh no! I'm nowhere near ready!"

"Don't worry. I'll be your lady's maid this time!" Evie laughed, picking up her brush.