Chapter 7 The Confession

Patrick couldn't wait. The moment he returned the next morning, he set out to see Maeve. Thoughts of her occupied his mind, still having regrets about the lilies. He got on his horse.

"Straight to her, I see," Jeffrey said, his voice teasing.

Patrick ignored him, though a faint smile tugged at his lips. "I have to go and apologise again," he said simply, "and to make amends in person."

"Good luck, dear cousin." Jeffrey said.

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The sun had climbed high, its warmth spilling over the village as Patrick rode into the square, his dark cloak fluttering behind him. Stormwind, his magnificent chestnut horse with a glossy mane, moved like liquid silk beneath him, hooves drumming against the earth. Patrick's eyes were fixed on the small cottage at the edge of the strawberry fields, where he knew Maeve would be tending her chores.

As he dismounted, he strode forward, the horse grazing lazily nearby. Maeve looked up from her laundry, her sleeves rolled to the elbows, cheeks flushed from the sun and work. Her hair was tied back, a few stray curls framing her face, and for a moment, Patrick found himself breathless.

"Good morning, Patrick," Maeve said, attempting a smile. "You have returned early."

"I could not wait," he said softly, reaching into his coat to produce a small velvet box. "I wished to bring you something... as a token of my sincere apology for the lilies."

Maeve hesitated, frowning slightly. "You need not trouble yourself. Truly, it was an accident."

He knelt and opened the box, revealing a delicate silver bracelet, finely engraved with little sun motifs. "Please, accept this. I meant it as a gesture of goodwill, nothing more. But I insist."

Her fingers hovered over it. "Patrick, I cannot-"

He gently lifted her hand and fastened the bracelet around her wrist. "You will. Consider it a reminder that my intentions are true."

Maeve blushed, glancing away, but said nothing. Patrick stood, brushing imaginary dust from his coat. "And now," he said, "I wonder if you might grant me a moment of your company? Would you mind taking a stroll with me?"

Maeve's brows furrowed. "I cannot. I have much work to do before the day is spent. Laundry, strawberries, cleaning-"

Patrick's eyes twinkled. "Then I shall help."

"No! You cannot-" she protested.

Patrick's grin was unwavering. "I can and I shall. You do not seem to understand, I will not take no for an answer."

Reluctantly, Maeve gave in, her cheeks coloring. "Very well, but only if you promise not to laugh at my incompetence."

"I make no such promises," Patrick replied smoothly, already pulling up sleeves and reaching for a bucket.

The morning passed with surprising ease. Patrick's hands were steady and strong as he lifted water buckets, gathered laundry, and helped Maeve hang the sheets and linens. He chatted all the while, teasing and joking in a soft, eloquent manner that made Maeve laugh.

"Careful, Patrick! That sheet is heavier than you think," Maeve warned, holding the line taut.

"Ah, but you see, it is merely a test of my strength," Patrick said, grinning. "And I do not intend to fail before your very eyes."

Maeve giggled, and at one point, she flicked a smear of berry juice from the morning's harvest toward him. He caught a droplet on his cheek and smirked. "I see what you are attempting, madam. A smear of battle paint to humble me, no doubt."

She laughed, but Patrick caught her hand. "Your laughter. It is a song I would hear endlessly."

Her cheeks flushed a deeper crimson. "Patrick" she whispered, looking away.

By midday, the chores were finished. The laundry hung neat and dry, the strawberries were gathered and cleaned, and the cottage was gleaming. After they both ate the meal they prepared together, Maeve leaned against the doorframe, wiping her brow, while Patrick folded his hands behind his back.

"And now," he said, bowing slightly, "I may finally show you what I wished to show this morning."

Maeve's eyes widened. "I... I do not wish to climb the horse."

Patrick's gaze softened. "It would pain me to see you trek the distance on foot. Stormwind is strong and patient, and I shall guide you safely."

Her heart thumped in nervous excitement as he held out his hand. "Please... trust me?"

She nodded hesitantly. Patrick lifted her gently onto Stormwind's back, adjusting the reins so she felt secure. The horse shifted beneath her steadily, while Patrick walked beside them, guiding Stormwind with a practiced hand.

They went upward, the village falling away behind them, until the fields and cottages were a quilt of greens and golds beneath the evening sun. And then they reached the crest of the hill.

Maeve gasped.

Before her stretched a breathtaking panorama of mountains rolling into the horizon, the sun was sinking slowly behind them, streaks of amber, rose, and violet painting the sky. A gentle breeze carried the scent of wildflowers and grass, the sound of distant birdsong filling the quiet.

Maeve turned to Patrick, awestruck. "I... I have never noticed this view before, though I have walked these hills many times."

Patrick smiled, his eyes lingering on her. He let the horse graze on a nearby patch of clover, still holding the reins as he studied her. "Perhaps it was always here," he said softly, "but only now have you paused long enough to see its true beauty."

Maeve's gaze met his, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. "It is lovely."

Patrick stepped closer, lowering his voice. "Lovely, yes. But not so lovely as the light in your eyes, the curve of your cheek, the softness of your smile."

Maeve's breath caught. "Oh! Patrick-"

He held up a hand, tenderly. "Do not speak. I merely wished for you to know that you are more beautiful than the sunset, more radiant than the mountains gilded with light. And I cannot let a moment pass without telling you. I also want you to know that you have captured my heart and I cannot hide it. I have loved you from the moment I saw you. I beseech you, grant me the blessing of your love."

Her cheeks warmed, and she looked down, fumbling with the hem of her skirt. Patrick continued, gently.

"I do not expect an answer today, or tomorrow, or perhaps even soon," he said, his voice low and earnest. "Take your time. Consider it, and know that I am willing to wait, however long it takes for your heart to choose freely."

Maeve's hands trembled slightly as she reached up to touch the bracelet he had given her.

"I..."

"You need not speak now," he said, his tone patient, almost reverent. "I merely wished to tell you what you must already suspect. My feelings are yours, should you wish them to be. But I will not press you. I will not force a decision."

For a long moment, they stood together, the wind stirring Maeve's hair and carrying the last warm colors of the sun across the sky. She felt a warmth in her chest she had not known before, and her heart thumped loudly in the silence.

Finally, she whispered, almost to herself, "Thank you for telling me."

Patrick nodded, his gaze softening. "That is all I require for now. And now, if you wish, I shall return you home safely."

Maeve glanced at the horse, uncertainty flickering again. "Are you sure?"

"It is my pleasure," he said simply, offering his hand. "And I will walk beside you every step of the way."

When they returned, she allowed him to guide her carefully off Stormwind's back, the horse's hooves echoing softly on the path. The last slanting rays of sunlight bathing them in gold.

Maeve looked up at him once more, the blush lingering on her cheeks. "I shall think on what you said."

Patrick smiled, a gentle, knowing curve of his lips. "Take all the time you need, Maeve. I shall wait, patiently, and always with hope."

When they reached the cottage, he bowed slightly, a quiet chivalry that made Maeve's heart flutter.

"Until we meet again," he said.

"Until we meet again," she echoed softly, a smile touching her lips.

Patrick mounted Stormwind with ease, guiding the horse down the path, but he turned once, watching her through the fading light. There was a quiet promise in his gaze, a vow made without words. He would not falter nor waver, and he would wait as long as it took for her heart to open to him.

Maeve watched him go. She had never felt such gentle persistence, and a curiosity she could not name stirred within her. And as Stormwind's hooves faded into the distance, Patrick's words lingered, "I am willing to wait, however long it takes."

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