While her mother’sback was turned, the seamstress muttered, “It will be a hard task to make a gown look fair on a figure like this.”
The words strucklike a cold wind, and heat rushed to Gracie’s cheeks. She kept her eyes forward, though shame burned behind them. In that instant she felt once more like the child in the hall, too thick for kindness.
A quiet thought rose,heavy and familiar, that her body was too wide for any man’s longing. She wondered if Edmund would look upon her with duty alone, never with desire. The mirror seemed cruel, reflecting curves she could not smooth away. Her heart tightened, fearing she would always be grateful for mere acceptance.
Margaret turned backwith an armful of cloth and said, “This green will suit her green eyes, will it nae?”
The seamstress nodded quickly,her earlier words swallowed by the fear of Margaret’s power.
Gracie lifted her chin,choosing courage over tears.
Jaxon stoodon the battlements of McMillan Castle, the wind tugging at his brown hair, eyes fixed on the distant hills.
Connor leaned beside him,arms crossed, the afternoon sun catching the gold in his hair.
“Ye takeon too much work, Jaxon,” Connor said, a teasing lilt in his voice. “More than any Laird in Scotland, if ye ask me.”
Jaxon’s jaw tightened slightly,but his voice stayed calm, steady as the stone beneath their boots. “Aye, Connor,” he said, “me duties have only begun. I must speak with me brother and tell him of his fate.”
Connor’s brow lifted,and he asked with a grin, “Oh? And what fate is that, then?”
Jaxon’s lipspressed into a thin line. “He is to be married,” he said simply, the wind carrying the words over the battlements.
Connor laughed,a loud, teasing bark, clapping a hand on Jaxon’s shoulder. “Oh, I think yer brother Edmund will hate to hear he must settle with only one lass,” he said, shaking his head.
Jaxon’s expression hardened,calm turning serious, almost cold. “Well, he must,” he said, voice low and even, “It is done. I must find him first.”
Connor’s laughter faded,replaced by a thoughtful glance. “Last I saw him, he was at the tavern in the village, an hour ago,” he said.
Jaxon’s fingersflexed at his sides, a subtle sign of his irritation, though he did not raise his voice. “An hour ago?” he muttered, eyes narrowing, a dark edge in their blue depths.
Connor shrugged,unconcerned, smirking despite the tension.
“Aye, of course he is,”Jaxon repeated, voice tight, and turned sharply, his cloak swirling around him as he descended toward the courtyard.
“Ye thinkhe’ll wait for yer gentle words?” Connor asked, still teasing, though with a hint of caution.
Jaxon’s jaw remained set,every motion measured, his presence unyielding.
“He shall listen,or there will be consequences,” he said, the calm laced with unspoken authority.
Jaxon madehis way from the castle to the village. He already knew his brother would be deep into his cups at this hour and that only frustrated him more.
He pushed openthe heavy wooden door of the tavern, the warm scent of ale, smoke, and roasting meat washing over him. The low ceiling was blackened with soot, and rough wooden beams stretched across the room, creaking under their own age.
Patrons crowded around sturdy tables,mugs clanking, voices raised in laughter or argument, the fire in the hearth snapping and spitting.
Near the back,Jaxon spotted his brother slumped in a bench, a serving wench on his lap, her skirts hiked in careless amusement. Edmund’s hair was mussed, and his cheeks flushed with drink, eyes glassy but bright. Jaxon’s jaw tightened, and he cleared his throat, a low, deliberate sound. The wench squealed and leapt to her feet, darting toward the kitchen, her skirts swirling behind her.
“Edmund,is it nae too early in the day to give into yer temptations?” Jaxon said, voice calm but firm, as he approached the table.
Edmund blinked at him,a lopsided grin forming, and slurred, “Ah, Jaxon, ‘tis never too early to enjoy life.”
Jaxon’sblue eyes narrowed slightly. “Aye, but it is too early to be this deep in drink, brother,” he said, tone measured, carrying authority.
Edmund waved a lazy hand.“Och, life’s meant to be savored, and celebrated Jaxon. Why squander a moment?”
Jaxon leaned on the table,steady and unyielding. “Then let me give ye somethin’ to celebrate,” he said, voice quiet but unshakable.
