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

Chapter 4 - Photo of Amelia

Connor paced under the moonlight streaming in silvery pale streaks from the window just beyond the corridor leading to the door. Where the door led to, the first in command had no clue, but he was oddly apprehensive for reasons he couldn't comprehend. Why would he be nervous waiting for a chit whose name he didn't even know? But like it or not, for once Connor Gilroy hadn't been able to concentrate for the whole day.

The Evelyn Verrick they had came to know for the day was nice enough, placid and sweet with a kind demeanor that Connor instantly knew was quite unlike the image of English people he had painted in his mind. In that, Connor credited it to the MacKenzie blood Hammond's aunt running in her, but somehow it was another girl that took up his mind and concentration. He barely heard a word as Evelyn had brought them around the estate, and Hammond had even yelled at him in frustration as he almost got himself stabbed in the lists. Yet how could Connor say that he was distracted and anxious for night to fall, so he could meet his green eyed angel again?

And now that night has fallen, he was now left to wonder if she would even come.

Would she have a reason to? She had only met him once, after all. And Connor had belatedly realized that he hadn't even offered her his name! Of course, it'd make more sense (and easier to find her) if he had asked for her name instead, but he wasn't sure if she would even give it to him. As it was, the first in command was bouncing between wracking his brain of ways to get her to speak, and fussing over whether or not she was even going to make an appearance. Lord, if Hammond could see him, the captain wondered if he'd still keep his position as first in command. For a warrior, it was almost unbecoming to be fussing over a girl.

When the doors pushed open, it was as if sunlight spilled in. He could've recognized that head of red hair instantaneously, green eyes glittering like emerald despite the poor lighting. The only source of light was the pale silvery moonlight, but even that was enough to show her in her glory, for to Connor, it was as if she had her own source of light. The burgundy dress she wore, with gold trimmings around her waist only served to further accentuate the green eyes, loose strands of red tresses making him wish he could undo the chignon to see the flaming locks in all it's glory.

"You should wear red more often. It makes you look like a walking flame." What? Where did that come from Gilroy? Inwardly, Connor admonished himself. He laughed at bards when they sang of songs of ladies, likening them to wisps of winter and drops of dew. So what was he doing now?

Yet, when she smiled at him, suddenly everything was worth it, for the curl of her lips upwards was a sight he would like to treasure forever. Giving a little curtsy, Connor recognized it as her form of thank you. "Why did you ask to meet me here?" By then, he was not expecting any verbal answer, and instead fell almost automatically when she cocked her finger at him, and led him to another door that opened to reveal a small stairwell. Was it for servants? Was she a serf within the castle then? But he had tried to look all day as the daughter of the Viscount had brought him around. He was sure he wouldn't have missed the shock of red hair.

"Where does this lead to?" He tried asking. The red head turned to place her fingers on her lips, which Connor surmised to say that he'd find out soon. Even despite her silence, the way her eyes danced with laughter made him smile in return to. Did she falter as she looked away? Dared he hope he had the same affect on her as she did to him? 

Before an answer could be reached, she reached up to push open what he realized was a trapdoor, and when Connor stepped out after her, he had to pause for a minute to take in a breathtaking view. As much as he's had his doubts about England before, there's no doubt that at the borders of the Highlands and English lands, the view was as good as it got.

To his right lay crests of hills, little cottages in little villages as far as the eye could see, flatlands and farms. To his left, the flat lands tapered out to hills and mountains, mists rolling in to a damp weather familiar to his beloved Highlands. The steep hills dotted with flocks of sheep, sparse cottages but with keeps and castles at the centre of each land. And when he looked back at her face, his breathe was stolen by just how contented she looked. "You like it here?" he asked.

She nodded, letting the wind toss and tug at her quickly loosening chignon. The captain followed as she walked over to the edge of the turrets, perching on one of the granite walls. There, she motioned at him to come, and pointed out to the Highlands. "You come here to... see that way?" She gave her usual soundless laugh, and grinned. "Sort of?" he guessed, an uncertain look coming over his face now.

The green eyed angel of his dreams nodded, flinging her arms out to twirl a circle while taking a deep breathe. "It's your favorite place." Connor concluded. She vehemently shook her head, much to his surprise, and held out a single finger. "One of them?" She nodded in satisfaction, and he laughed this time, a deep rumble that obviously brought delight to her, as Connor noted when he looked at a pleased smile on her face.

"I'm surprised Lady Evelyn didn't bring us up here. Her father did mention to bring us everywhere."

She held up her thumb and forefinger, held them an inch apart and brought it up to eye level. "Not many people know about this place?"

Shaking her head, she shrugged. "They... know, but they just don't care?" She nodded again, grinning while Connor rocked back on his heels with amusement, finding himself not at all surprised that his red-headed angel would be the one who would find the magic in the turrets. The moonlight lent it's almost magical touch to her features, illuminating the faint freckles he had barely caught in their brief time together the night before.

"Do you come here, often?"

She turned to him, and just waved her head side to side, as if she wasn't sure of her answer. Connor paused, looking at her again. "Can you speak?" She nodded. "So why wouldn't you?"

Evie paused, the answer to his question bursting in her heart. I want to, Captain. I really do, but I cannot for even now I'm going against what Father has told me to do. Instead though, she averted her eyes from his, and chose to avoid answering by returning her gaze to where she knew her favorite lake resided. "Do you fear me?" his question brought Evie's immediate shaking of her head, for even as a man twice her height, an imposing figure to all, he brought no fear to her. For in his dark irises, somehow Evie felt safer then she's ever been. 

"Then why do you not speak?"

At a loss of what to answer him, or how she could answer him without breaking her own promise, Evie chose the cowards way out. She got off the turret and turned to catch his eye. When she did, the girl waved at him, before making her way towards the stairwell leading down. Before she could escape however, a grip on her wrist stilled her steps, before Connor's strength yanked her backwards and the girl found herself pressed against his chest, his arm circling her waist to anchor her there.

Burying his nose in her messy, now half undone nest of a chignon, Connor's senses tingled at the scent of lemon and lavender. He held her gently but firmly, unable to bring himself to let her go without answers. "Will I see you again?"

Silence.

"You're like a ghost, appearing only at midnight. But I never see you in the day. Do I dream of your appearance? For you look like a hundred dreams rolled in one." his husky voice got closer and closer, and Evie felt shivers running up her spine with his words, the timbre reverberating against her back.  His fingers stroked the ridge of her milky neck, left exposed from her dress's wide neckline. Was this proper? God knows her governess would have her fit, as would her deportment teacher if they ever saw her this way. She had been trained in all of societies rules and propriety, yet nothing had ever felt so right, even if every fibre of her being knew it was wrong.

"What is your name, gealbhan?"

  She made a funny sound of curiosity, causing the captain to chuckle as he picked up a strand of her red locks and ran them through his fingers, marvelling at how they felt like silk. "Did you want to know what that meant?" She nodded against his chin, and Connor grinned. "It means fire, in gaelic. Because you're like a walking flame, leading men to glory, to life. Leading me to you."

His words made her skin bubble in warmth, but as she shifted in his arms, his grip tightened around her waist as his lips dipped to have his warm breathe caress her ears whilst he spoke. "I'll see you tomorrow, gealbhan. At the entrance to the castle. I wish to take a walk."

And with that, he released her and walked past her, giving one last, lasting look at Evie's thrown off features, before descending into the stairwell.