“Thank ye,”Gracie said.
She shifted slightly,brushing a lock of hair behind her ear, trying to steady herself. Jaxon’s eyes remained fixed on her, patient yet unwavering, as though daring any men in the hall to approach her. It struck her then how different he must be from his brother Edmund, the man who had abandoned her at the altar, leaving her humiliated and unsure. Jaxon had claimed her, yes, but he had done so with a fierce sense of protection that both inflamed desire and caused a pang of irritation.
Gracie’s gazeflicked around the hall, watching as the festivities continued unabated. Children ran between tables, the twins chasing each other in fits of laughter, and men shouted to be heard over the music. Yet even amidst the joy, she felt atightening inside, a mix of wonder and unease. She realized that, while she was grateful for Jaxon’s vigilance, she longed to be seen as more than simply someone to guard and someone he’d married out of pity for being left at the altar, or for a trade agreement.
She shifted in her seat,her fingers lightly touching the edge of her goblet. The warmth of his eyes upon her was like fire, making her heart thrum in a way that was both frightening and intoxicating. Part of her wanted to meet his gaze and assert her independence, to show that she was more than a possession. Yet another part of her reveled in the way his attention seemed to claim her entirely, as though the whole hall could vanish and only the two of them remained.
“Are ye feelin’alright? It looks as though ye've been cryin’, me wee dove?” Margaret whispered in Gracie's ear.
Gracie wantedto tell her about the mean things the ladies had said, but she didn't want to cause a scene. So, she buried her pain deep inside.
“I was cryin'Maither, ’tis true. But they are tears of joy. I have a new husband and two daughters. I am excited for ye to meet them. Me tears are of happiness,” Gracie smiled.
“Then I am glad.I very much am ready to meet the twins. I have grandchildren already. What a treat that is,” Margaret squeezed Gracie's hand.
Gracie exhaled softly,the turmoil inside her churning. Marriage, she realized, was far more complex than she had imagined. It was not just vows and celebration, but alliances, expectations, and the slow forging of trust and desire. Her eyes met Jaxon’s once more, and she wondered how she could navigate the fierce, unrelenting man she was now bound to, both afraid and thrilled by the intensity of his claim.
Her fingers curled lightlyaround the goblet, and she felt herself leaning forward slightly, drawn to the strength and certainty he radiated.
“Daenae let them see ye afraid,”she whispered under her breath, more to herself than anyone else.
And though sheknew she must assert her own will, she also felt a pull toward him she could not deny. In that moment, Gracie understood that the battle between her desire for independence and the heat of his possessive gaze was only beginning.
9
Jaxon’s eyes swept over the ceilidh, sharp and unyielding, scanning the crowd like a hawk hunting prey. Every laugh, every glance, every casual movement of a man drew his scrutiny, for he couldn't bear the thought of someone daring to lay eyes or hands on his lass.
The memory of Hamish,drunken and bold, still stirred his blood to fire, and he clenched his fists at the thought of what might have happened if he had not seen Gracie slip out of the hall from across the room. He had the sense to follow her and try to find her.
Restraint had beena bitter draught to swallow to not kill Hamish, but Jaxon knew the man was loyal at heart, and that one night of drunken foolishness didn't merit death, only exile.
Connor,ever observant, leaned against the timber railing, brow furrowed.
“Ye look tense, me laird,”he said, voice careful, “What has got ye with such a weight on yer shoulders? This is meant to be a night of joy and wedded bliss, is it nae?”
Jaxon didn't immediately reply,his eyes still roving over the crowd, noting the way his lass moved among the guests, radiant yet wary.
Finally,he spoke, low and commanding, “Tomorrow, before ye work on that scoutin’ mission to find me brother, I need ye to make sure Hamish has left the castle… and the village. He is to be exiled, Connor. Nay excuses.”
Connor’s jaw tightened,shock written plainly across his face.
“Exiled?Why, Laird? He’s a good man… that is, in his sober senses. Surely ye mean nae to exile him…”
Jaxon cuthim off with a cold, unwavering gaze, the steel in his eyes enough to silence the man instantly.
“The reason isnay concern of yers, or anyone’s,” Jaxon said sharply, his voice like a blade. “Ye will nae ask, ye will nae speculate. Just see that it is done. Hamish must be gone by the noon sun, or I will deal with him meself.”
Jaxon remainedsilent before Connor’s questioning gaze, his jaw tightening as he weighed his words. He could have spoken the truth, that he had found Hamish with Gracie, frightened and cornered, but he would not. To let such a thing be known wouldstain her name before she had even taken her first true step as Lady McMillan, and he would not allow her to begin her life here under whispers and doubt. Better that Hamish vanish without explanation than that Gracie’s reputation be bruised by a single man’s drunken folly.
Connor lowered his gaze respectfully.“Aye, me laird. I understand. I shall see it done,” he said, voice firm despite the shock lingering in his expression.
Jaxon’s eyessoftened ever so slightly, just enough to show that he trusted Connor implicitly. “Good, and daenae speak of his exile. If anyone asks, Hamish left of his own accord. The exile is only known between us two and Hamish. Do ye understand?” he said, turning slightly, scanning the crowd once more.
“Aye,me laird. Ye can trust me to keep this secret,” Connor replied.
The musicand laughter were a sharp contrast to the storm raging within him, yet he couldn't relax, not while his lass was among men whose intentions might be less than honorable.
Jaxon’s thoughtsflicked back to Gracie, the way her shoulders tensed, the way her eyes sought comfort in small moments, and a protective fire ignited deep in his chest. She was his, officially now, bound by vows, yet he knew that claiming her fully would take patience, restraint, and careful observation. He felt a flash of anger at Hamish, at the shame he had brought upon her, and at the thought that anyone could have dared to harm her beforehe could intervene. The twin emotions of desire and protection twisted together, a knot he couldn't untangle.
