The Passion of London [Highlander's Love #1]

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.