Chapter 2
Connor rode hard throughthe forest, his stallion's hooves pounding against the moss-covered earth as branches whipped past his face.The familiar path wound deeper into the ancient woods, away from the keep, away from duty and the mess he'd made of everything.
The cottage appeared in a small clearing, smoke curling peacefully from its chimney.Ivy climbed the stone walls, and herbs hung drying from the eaves.This place had been his sanctuary since childhood, when nightmares and his strange visions had driven him from his bed to seek comfort from the only person who truly understood.
Connor dismounted and pushed through the wooden door without knocking, as he had done countless times before.
"Morna," he called, his voice still rough with emotion.
"Aye, I've been expecting ye, lad."The elderly woman looked up from her worktable where she was grinding herbs with practiced motions.Her silver hair was braided down her back, and her weathered face held the wisdom of seven decades."Though ye took longer to get here than I thought ye would."
Connor stared at her."Expecting me?"
"Sit yerself down before ye fall," she said, not answering his question directly."Ye look like a man who's been wrestling with demons."
He slumped into the chair by her hearth, suddenly feeling every bit as weary as she suggested.Morna had raised him and Ewan after their parents died, refusing all offers to move to the keep.She preferred her cottage, her herbs, and her independence.
"The sight told ye I was coming?"he asked quietly.
"Aye, among other things."She moved to the fire, adding herbs to a pot of steaming water."But mostly, I ken ye better than ye ken yerself, Connor MacNeil.When the world closes in on ye, this is where ye come."
The familiar scent of chamomile and lavender began to fill the small space.Connor closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the chair."I've made a terrible mess of things, Morna."
"Tell me."She poured the tea into a worn wooden cup and pressed it into his hands."Start from the beginning."
So he did.Connor told her about the arranged marriage, about his fury at having his future decided for him, about the cruel words he'd spoken in the corridor.When he reached the part about seeing Fiona in the Great Hall, his jaw clenched with frustrated anger.
"She heard every word," he said, staring into his tea with a scowl."Every insult, every threat.But how was I to ken she was there?Ewan should have warned me sooner instead of trying to shush me like a child."He took a gulp of tea."Still, the look on her face..."His voice roughened."I may be a bastard, but I'm not a monster."
Morna listened without judgment, as she always did.When he finished, she was quiet for a long moment, studying his face with those knowing eyes.
"Ye feel for the lass," she said finally.
"I feel like I was ambushed," Connor corrected gruffly."Ewan kenned they were there.He should have told me outright instead of dancing around the truth.And I still say it's madness to marry me off to a Finnigan."He shifted in his chair, his expression darkening."Though I'll grant ye, she did not deserve to hear it the way she did."
"What did ye see when ye looked at her?"Morna asked quietly.
Connor's scowl deepened."I barely glanced at her.But that's not the point.The point is I should not have to marry anyone I have not chosen for myself."
"Hmm."Morna sipped her own tea thoughtfully."Tell me something, Connor.If ye had the freedom to do anything in this world, what would it be?"
"What do ye mean?"
"If there were no clan obligations, no marriages, no duties weighing on yer shoulders.What would Connor MacNeil choose to do with his life?"
Connor considered this, rolling the warm cup between his palms with a brooding expression."I...I suppose I'd still want to defend my clan.Protect the people who depend on me.It's who I am, not just what I'm expected to do."
"So duty isn't yer enemy, then.It's part of ye."
