April tilted her head.“From what I saw, the Laird is nae a cruel man, and he looked at ye as though ye were to his likin’.
“That cannot be true,”Gracie said, her old doubts rising. “Men have never looked at me so.”
April frowned.“Then perhaps ye have never looked back long enough to see it,” she said.
Gracie considered this,her heart stirring with cautious hope. “Do ye truly think he might have some care for me?”
“I think,”April replied, “that he chose ye when he had nay need to.”
Gracie rememberedthe way Jaxon had stood, calm and commanding, offering himself in her defense. The memory warmed her more than the bath had. Perhaps his words had been clumsy, but his action had been bold. She drew a breath and said, “That may be, but I feel it was only to save his clan from humiliatin’ our own clan. He did it out of duty to keep the peace between clans after such a folly by his brother. Nothin’ more than that. I wish I understood his way of thinkin’ more.”
“Ye will, in time,”April said. “Marriage is a learnin’, nae a knowin’.”
Gracie nodded slowly.She imagined the ceilidh, the music and laughter, and herself standing beside Jaxon. Fear still lingered, but it was no longer alone with her maid at her side.
As the fire crackled,Gracie straightened in her chair.
“I will try,”she said quietly.
April smiled.“That is all any of us can do.”
In that moment,Gracie felt less like a frightened girl and more like a woman standing at the edge of her own becoming. Sheopened her mouth to thank April, but hearing familiar footsteps approach stalled her.
Soon,the door opened and Margaret reentered the sitting room with brisk steps and a satisfied smile.
“All is set,lass, and yer breakfast is on its way,” she said, glancing toward the hearth.
Gracie looked up and replied,“Ye work harder than any servant, Mama.”
Margaret chuckled.“For me daughter, I would move mountains.”
A knock cameat the door, and servants entered bearing trays of breakfast. Bowls of bright berries glistened beside wedges of sheep’s cheese, and steam rose from cups of dark tea. Honey gleamed atop warm roasted fish, filling the room with sweetness. Gracie’s stomach growled softly at the sight.
Margaret arrangedthe trays and said, “This will settle yer stomach and make yer skin glow by evenin’.”
Gracie smiled and replied,“If it does both, I shall call it magic.”
Her mother handed her a cup.“Drink, lass, and trust me.”
Gracie obeyed,warmth spreading through her.
They ate together,speaking of the night to come and the ceilidh awaiting them.
“It will nae belike the McDougal feasts,” Margaret said thoughtfully.
Gracie answered,“Nay, but perhaps it will become familiar in time.”
Margaret nodded.“This is yer home now, and it will shape itself around ye.”
Gracie held her cup,imagining music echoing through new halls.
After the meal,April cleared the trays while Margaret guided Gracie to a cushioned chair.
“We must begin,”her mother said, uncorking a small vial.
She warmedoil between her palms and smoothed it along Gracie’s arms.
“This'll makeyer skin soft as rose petals,” Margaret added.
