“Ye are safe here,”he murmured, though she could not hear him. “All of ye. And the bairns have a maither once more.”
A passing guard bowed. “Me laird.”
Jaxon nodded in return.“See that the gardens remain clear,” he said. “Nay disturbances this afternoon for me bairns and me lady.”
“Aye,”the guard replied. “It will be done.”
He descended a few steps,then halted again, torn between duty and the pull of that laughter. For a moment, he consideredabandoning his papers altogether, joining them in the dirt and sun. The image was absurd, a laird crouched in the mud with his daughters and his bride, and yet it did not feel wrong.
“Later,”he told himself firmly. “There will be time. For now duty calls.”
13
Later that evening, Gracie slipped into the nursery and paused, smiling at the sight of Rose and Eden curled beneath their blankets, lashes resting on rosy cheeks. Their soft breathing filled the room like a gentle tide, and her heart warmed at how quickly they had come to matter to her.
She turned quietly to Hannah,the nursemaid, and whispered, “Hannah, would ye show me to the library?”
The woman noddedwith a fond smile and murmured, “Of course, miss.”
They walked the corridor together.
“I wishto find a book that might interest the girls,” Gracie said softly, glancing back toward the nursery. “I want to make them happy, and that means searchin’ for new stories, for I’ve grown quite enamored with the wee girls.”
Hannah’s eyessoftened as she replied, “They’ve taken to ye already, miss, and stories from yer lips will be their greatest treasure.”
At the tall oak doors,Hannah opened the way and curtsied.
“Here we are,”she said, then left Gracie alone in the hush.
The library openedbefore her like a cathedral of thought, shelves climbing high along stone walls, heavy with leather-bound volumes and the scent of aged paper. Moonlight filtered through narrow windows, gilding floating dust and casting warm pools upon long tables, and Gracie stepped inside with reverence, feeling as though she had entered a sacred place where every story waited to be born again in a child’s wonder.
The library layin evening hush, candlelight gilding the spines of ancient books. She halted at once, for in the far corner sat Jaxon, bent over a volume, flamelight tracing the strong line of his jaw. A small gasp escaped her before she could stop it, for she had not expected him there in that quiet sanctum. He lifted his head, eyes meeting hers across the room, surprise flickering into calm.
“I am sorry,”she said quickly, fingers tightening around her skirt, “I dinnae ken anyone was in the library.”
Jaxon closedthe book and rose, his voice gentle as he replied, “Nay apology needed, lass, the castle is yer home now, and ye may come to the library if ye please.”
She relaxeda little and gestured toward the candlelit table, asking, “What are ye readin’?”
He heldup the tome and answered, “A book on dealin’ with dry wells, for one of our villages, Glenmoor, suffers sorely.”
“That is interestin’,”she said, meaning it, for she had never thought of land as something one must learn to heal.
Jaxon nodded,then added, “Ye will be accompanyin’ me there, Gracie, when I go to see to it.”
Her breath caught,and panic rushed through her as she blurted, “I daenae ken how to be a lady in front of yer people, Jaxon, I truly daenae.”
He studiedher with faint surprise and asked, “What do ye mean, when ye are the daughter of a laird and a lady, both good leaders?”
She shook her head,cheeks warm, and confessed, “They never trained me, for they wished me carefree, thinkin’ I would never bear such duties.”
Jaxon considered her words,then said, “Then do as ye did with Rose and Eden this morn, treat our people with that same kindness.”
Gracie’s brows drew together,and she asked, “Were ye spyin’ on me?”
He lifted a hand,half-smiling, and replied, “Nay, I merely saw ye from me study window, and I’ve nay interest stalkin’ ye while ye play in the mud like a child.”
The teasinglilt in his voice meant to ease her fear, yet it struck her pride instead, and her mouth thinned. Silence stretched between them, heavy and uncertain.
