Jaxon gesturedto the chair before him. “Speak,” he replied, his voice even. Connor remained by the door, arms crossed, listening.
“One of the western villages,Glenmoor, has been stricken with a drought,” Michael said. “Their wells have run dry, and their stores are near gone.”
Jaxon’s jaw tightened,his mind already turning over numbers and routes. “We will prepare wagons of water, wine, grain and salted fish and meat,” he said, “enough to last them three months.”
Michael blinked. “Three months?”he asked.
Jaxon nodded. “Aye,”he said, “I will ride there meself and see the land with me own eyes. See what can be done.” He leaned forward, hands braced upon the desk. “If the rains daenae return, we will find another way.”
Relief softened Michael’s shoulders.“The folk will bless yer name,” he said.
Jaxon shook his head once.“They are me people,” he replied. “It is nay blessin’, only duty.”
Michael hesitated,then asked, “Is there any word of yer brother?”
Connor glanced at Jaxon,knowing the answer.
“Nay,”Jaxon said, “but Connor leaves this day to search for him.”
Connor inclinedhis head in confirmation.
Michael exhaled slowly.“It is hard to believe two brothers could be so different,” he said. “We are fortunate ye are the Laird, and nae Edmund.” His words were earnest, spoken without malice, yet they struck like a blade.
“I cannae imaginewhat ruin Edmund would bring upon this clan,” Michael continued. “He lacks yer sense, yer restraint, yer...”
“That is enough,”he said quietly.
The room went still.Michael froze, color rising in his cheeks. Jaxon’s eyes remained steady, though a storm churned behind them.
“He is me brother,”Jaxon said. “Ye willnae speak of him as though he is naught but rot.” His voice did not rise, yet its weight filled the chamber. “I will nae hear him dishonored in me presence.”
Michael bowedhis head at once. “Forgive me, me laird,” he said. “I spoke out of fear for the clan, nae disrespect to yer blood.”
Jaxon’s expression softened a fraction.“Fear doesnae grant license for cruelty. Nor does it do our clan good to haveothers speak of weakness within me family. Without a proper male heir, other clans might see a division between brothers as opportunity. I will nae have them think that,” he replied.
Yet even ashe defended Edmund, Jaxon’s thoughts betrayed him. His brother was reckless, careless, and ruled by appetite rather than honor. Edmund could not even stand at the altar like a man.
Jaxon remembered the kirk,the murmurs, the empty place beside Gracie. He remembered the way her hands had trembled, the way her eyes had dimmed. Edmund had fled not only a bride, but a duty that could have preserved their family name.
Michael straightened.“It will nae happen again,” he said. “Ye have me word.”
Jaxon nodded once. “Very well,”he replied. “See that the wagons are prepared.”
Michael bowedand backed toward the door. “May God keep ye, me laird,” he said.
Jaxon inclinedhis head in return, and Michael departed, leaving the study heavy with unspoken truths about Edmund.
Connor remainedsilent until the door shut. “He spoke what many think,” he said carefully.
Jaxon did not turn. “Aye,”he answered, “and they are nae wrong.”
He roseand crossed to the window, gazing once more toward the gardens. Gracie still knelt with the girls, Eden shaping a tower of mud while Rose arranged pebbles like jewels. The sight eased the tension in his chest.
“Edmund was always the favored son,”Jaxon said at last. “He laughed louder, charmed quicker, and ran from consequence faster.”
Connor watched him closely.“Ye carry the weight he cast aside,” he replied.
Jaxon’s mouthcurved in a bitter half-smile. “Aye,” he said. “And I will continue to do so, until he is brought back to answer for it.” His gaze hardened. “Blood binds us, but it doesnae excuse him.”
