Jacob noticed him only because others made room.
He was near Jacob’s age, possibly, and moved with an ease that suggested he expected his path to clear. His clothing marked him as Lowland gentry: deep blue wool, well cut and uncreased, a silver clasp that caught the light when he turned. His boots were polished to a dull shine, unscarred by travel beyond good roads. Jacob’s first impression was that he looked like a carving: all straight lines and deliberate polish, as though someone had whittled him from a block of birch and then lacquered him with etiquette. The young man moved like he expected a path to be cleared, and left no apologies in his wake as he threaded through the scatter of benches and elbows. Jacob’s lip curled with a hint of dark humor when he realized that the crowd did not part with any great haste, or at all in some instances, not as reliably as the man seemed to think it should.
Jacob recognized him, of course, from the high table, the man who had been seated beside Elena earlier, undoubtedly the man intended to be her husband.
The knowledge arrived without flourish. Jacob remained where he was, hands loose at his sides, conscious of the press of the hall and the steady murmur of voices swelling again around the small knot of people. He did not step forward. He simply watched as the young man halted before the women and inclined his head, first to Meggie, then to Isabel, his manner correct, his smile measured.
Elena rose at once, though she had scarcely been seated a full minute, and made the introductions. Names passed between them, carried just loudly enough to be heard over the din, drawing brief acknowledgments from Jacob’s mother, father, and brothers. David inclined his head, wearing a faint grin—Jacob wondered if his impression of Elena’s betrothed wassimilar to Jacob’s, too smooth, too oily. Across the table, Jacob met Thomas’s glance and returned it with a nod before the man’s attention shifted back to Jacob’s father.
“You honor us with your presence,” Thomas said, inclining his head. “Your name is well regarded throughout the realm. My father has spoken often of your bravery at Byland, Jamison.” He spoke with the confidence of someone accustomed to being the man of greater rank in the room—a habit, Jacob supposed, easily learned by the son of an earl.
Gabriel received the praise with the quiet reserve that had always distinguished him from men who spoke loudly of lesser deeds. He gave a brief nod, his expression courteous but unreadable, even as his gaze lingered on the younger man with a measured intent. To Jacob’s eye, it was the look of a man accustomed to weighing others and drawing his own conclusions.
Thomas Hamilton bore himself well enough, Jacob supposed, yet there was nothing in him that marked a man who had ever stood in battle. He lacked the subtle tension Jacob recognized in every Highlander old enough to remember a raid, the wary alertness and quiet calculation of distance and exits. Thomas’s hands were soft, unmarked by the calluses of sword or bow; His shoulders, though broad enough, carried the forward slope of a man unused to standing fast in the line—built for talk and tally, not for the crush and roar of a battle full met.
Thomas bowed, smoothly done, and offered his greetings to Jacob’s mother and Isabel MacTavish.
Meggie responded politely. Isabel inclined her head, her expression unreadable.
“We thank you for your welcome,” Meggie said. “Your home is remarkable. Truly.”
“Not half so remarkable as its future mistress,” Elena’s betrothed replied lightly.
Jacob felt the words like sand in his teeth.
There was nothing improper in them, no arrogance or apparent false sweetness. The man was speaking as any future husband might to a bride he admired. And yet the smile lingering on his lips—pleased, dazzled, certain—set Jacob’s jaw in a way he hoped no one noticed.
Beyond that, what held Jacob’s attention was Elena.
Her responses were polite, composed—neither warm nor distant. She answered Thomas as one might answer a new acquaintance met under formal circumstances: attentive, courteous, and careful. There was no softness there, no easy familiarity, but neither was there stiffness or displeasure. Jacob watched her hands as she spoke, the way she kept them folded before her, the way she inclined her head rather than leaning in.
Whatever arrangement bound Elena and Thomas had been made without the benefit of shared years or childhood memory. They were, in truth, still learning one another—strangers joined by a decision made elsewhere, scarcely acquainted beyond a few weeks the year before. Nothing like what had once existed between Elena and himself. Nothing with time enough to settle into ease.
Thomas stood a shade closer than necessary, perhaps, but Elena did not retreat.
As Jacob watched them, his teeth grinding, he told himself that whatever fleeting awareness he’d once had of Elena—of her beauty, her presence—had long since faded, worn down by years on campaign and flattened beneath duty and distance. A very convenient reminder at the moment.
He schooled his features, keeping the sudden shift within him carefully contained beneath the steady composure he had learned from both his father and Liam MacTavish. This was no moment for indulging old impressions, much less examiningthem. He was here for council, for peace, for matters that carried weight beyond the quickening of his own pulse.
Chapter Three
Strathfinnan Castle was full to the rafters and beyond. Lords and chiefs, mormaers and their households crowded the great hall and spilled into every spare chamber, with lesser kin and retainers lodged wherever space could be found, along the outer ranges, in barns, even under canvas pitched beyond the walls. From dawn onward the castle thrummed with movement—boots on stone, voices rising and falling, servants weaving between guests with trenchers and jugs as the business of alliance and obligation pressed in from every side.
By midday the press had shifted rather than eased. Many of the chiefs and lords had ridden out to hunt, eager for air and motion after a full morning of council and ceremony, while the ladies dispersed to quieter pursuits, gathering in the solar, walking the gardens, or retreating from the hall’s lingering heat and noise.
