Rose smiled faintly.“I hope she likes flowers,” she whispered.
Jaxon feltwarmth spread through him, realizing he had done right by them. Their hopes, small and pure, eased the weight he had carried.
He drewa book from the shelf and settled on a chair. “Come, then, a story before the nurse calls.”
The twins curled close,Eden leaning against his arm while Rose rested her head on his knee. He read of heroes and hidden glens, his voice low and steady, weaving safety into every word.
Rose’s eyesfluttered as the tale unfolded, and Eden’s restless fingers stilled. For a moment, Jaxon forgot duty and clan and marriage, holding only the quiet miracle of his daughters’ trust. He wondered if Gracie would read to them, if her voice would one day blend with his in these walls. The thought stirred something like hope.
The door opened softly,and Hannah, the nursemaid, entered with a curtsy.
“Me laird,it is time for the young ladies to dress for the celebrations.”
Eden groaned.“I daenae wish to wear ribbons.”
Rose stood obediently.“We must be fair for the ceilidh.”
Jaxon closedthe book and kissed each girl upon the brow.
“Be kind to yer new maither,”he said, “for she comes to ye with a willin’ heart.”
Eden nodded solemnly,and Rose whispered, “We will try.”
He watched them go,feeling that for the first time in many years, his castle might truly become a home…again.
Jaxon leftthe nursery and made his way through the castle. Servants still bowed with respect murmuring words of congratulations and such. He nodded as he went outside to find Connor.
The barracks rangwith laughter and clatter, the stone walls warmed by torches and the easy cheer of men unburdened by duty for a night. Benches were crowded with soldiers polishing boots, braiding hair, and boasting of dances yet to come. The scent of ale and leather mingled with smoke from the hearth, and every voice carried anticipation for the ceilidh. It was rare that work yielded to celebration, and the men embraced it fully.
Connor spottedJaxon at once and strode over, patting him hard on the back.
“Ye have a way of stirrin’a castle, me laird,” he said, pressing a flask into Jaxon’s hand.
Jaxon took a measured drink,the whiskey burning warm through him.
Connor shookhis head in wonder. “I still cannae believe ye did it, standin’ in the kirk to marry a woman ye had never met. Takin’ up the duty of it on a whim.”
Jaxon’s face remained hard-set,his gaze steady. “It was the right thing,” he said. “After what Edmund did, it was the only way to keep peace between clan McDougal and clan McMillan.” He returned the flask. “I did what needed to be done.”
Connor nodded slowly.“It was an honorable thing ye did, indeed.”
The noiseof the barracks swelled around them, men laughing and calling out wagers for the evening’s dances.
Jaxon watched them for a moment,then asked, “Any news? Have ye found me brother?”
Connor’s expression sobered.“Nay, we have nae. He is nowhere in the village.”
Jaxon’s jaw tightened.“He was at the kirk, we all ken that, since he traveled with us.” He folded his arms. “His horse was gone, so he left from there and could have gone anywhere.”
Connor frowned.“Aye, where do ye think he went?”
Jaxon exhaled slowly.“I daenae ken, but after tomorrow I want ye to put a scoutin’ party together and track him down, bring him back to me.”
Connor straightened.“Aye, I will see it done.”
Jaxon leftthe warmth of the barracks and crossed into the quieter halls of the castle. He climbed a narrow stair to the slab room, a modest chamber set down the hall from his grand bedchamber, named for the great stone mantle that crowned its hearth.
It was a place of solitude,fitting for a laird who needed a place to sleep separate from his bride, for the previous night at least.
