He dressed with care,drawing on a fine linen dark green tunic embroidered with the McMillan crest. His kilt followed, pleated and heavy, its tartan rich and deep, secured with a silver pin shaped like a thistle. Leather boots and a belt completed the look, and he paused to tie his brown hair back at the nape of his neck. As he finished tying his hair, a knock came at the door.
“Me laird,”a servant called softly, “Lady McMillan is ready.”
Jaxon closedhis eyes for a single breath, then turned toward the door, duty called.
The great hallof Castle McMillan blazed with light and life, torches flaring against banners while tables bowed beneath platters of roast meats, breads, and shining fruit. Fiddles sang, drums kept time, and boots struck stone in eager rhythm as clansfolk danced in whirling lines. Laughter rolled through the rafters, carrying the scent of spiced wine and hearth-smoke. Jaxon stood at the dais with his daughters, feeling the pulse of his people surge like a living tide.
A hush rippled outwardwhen the doors opened, and every head turned as Gracie entered. Jaxon’s breath caught, for he had never seen a woman so transformed, light clinging to her as if she carried dawn within her. The blue of her gown softened her curves, and the flowers in her hair made her seem a creature of meadow and sky. In that instant, he knew a dangerous desire to possess her, sharp and immediate.
He mastered it at once,recalling the fear in her eyes when she had spoken of the marriage bed. She was not ready for a laird’s hunger, and he would not become a terror in her life. A bitter whisper rose within him, saying that had she wed Edmund, she would have been claimed without a second thought, and the idea burned hot. Jaxon swallowed the anger, choosing restraint over shadow.
Rose tuggedhis hand and whispered, “Is that her, Faither?”
He nodded.“Aye, that is Lady Gracie.”
Eden’s eyes widened.“She’s pretty,” she said.
Jaxon’s gazenever left Gracie as he answered, “She is more than pretty.”
He guidedthe girls through the parted crowd to Gracie, the music resuming in a softer murmur.
“Gracie,”he said when they reached her, “I would have ye meet me daughters, Rose and Eden.”
Gracie bent at once.“I am pleased to meet ye, Rose and Eden,” she said gently, “and I hope we shall be friends.”
Rose curtsied shyly.“Do ye like flowers, me lady?”
Gracie smiled.“Very much, and I would walk the garden with ye any day.”
Eden tilted her head.“Do ye like climbin’?”
Gracie laughed.“I have never tried, but perhaps ye can teach me.”
Offeringinterests in their likes and dislikes, Gracie asked, “What is yer favorite food?”
“Honey cakes,”Eden declared.
“Warm bread with cheese,”Rose said.
“Then we shall have both,”Gracie replied, “and I will tell ye a story while we eat.”
The girls beamed,instantly won over.
Jaxon felta quiet certainty settle within him, as if a lock had turned. He held out his hand for Gracie. She took it and he led them toward the head table as the hall stilled again.
Raising his glass,he said, “We welcome this union with Clan McDougal, and stand united by marriage and honor. I give ye Lady Gracie McMillan, daughter of Laird McDougal.”
The hall erupted in cheers,cups lifted high. Gracie’s eyes shone, and Jaxon lowered his glass with a nod of gratitude.
They sat amid abundance,platters of venison, barley stews, herb-roasted fowl, buttered greens, and golden breads spread before them.
Jaxon noticedGracie only nudged her food, her fork tracing idle paths. “Are ye nae hungry?” he asked quietly.
She shook her head.“Nay, me laird, the nervousness has stolen me appetite.”
He softened his voice.“Then eat when ye can, for the night is long.”
Rose tugged Gracie’s sleeve.“Will ye play with us on the morrow?”
