“I was nae behavin’as a child,” she said quietly, “I was makin’ them happy.”
Jaxon’s smile faltered.“Aye, and ye did so well,” he answered, though his tone still bore that careless edge.
Gracie folded her arms,wounded more than she wished to admit, for she had thought he saw her effort, not merely her dirt-stained hands. The candles crackled, and the warmth of the room felt suddenly cold.
“I am tryin’,”she said, voice low, “to be what ye need me to be.”
“I ken that,”he finally said, softer, “and I daenae doubt yer heart.”
But the wound lingered,and Gracie’s gaze slid away from him.
She turned toward the shelves,pretending to search for a book, though the letters blurred before her. The library that had moments ago felt like refuge now felt like a test of wills.
“I was merely teasin’,lass, can ye nae take a joke?” he finally said breaking the quiet.
She foldedher arms tight across her chest and answered, “Aye, I can take a joke, but I see nay humor in bein’ belittled.”
He stepped closer,voice low, “Ye twist me words, and I daenae ken why ye’re so quick to bristle.”
She tooka step of her own, refusing to yield ground, and said, “Because every word ye speak feels like a reminder that I daenae belong here. Nor was I to be yer wife, but yer brother's.”
Jaxon’s jaw tightened,and he muttered, “Ye are me wife, and this is yer home now, whether ye wish it or nae.”
Gracie shook her head,heart pounding, for she felt both claimed and cast adrift in the same breath.
“I never askedfor to be the wife of a laird until that day at the church,” she said, voice trembling despite her will, “and yet I am tryin’ with all I have.”
Jaxon answered sharply,“And I expect to be wed to a lass who doesnae flinch at every jest I make.”
Her eyes flashed,and she retorted, “Then perhaps ye should learn that words cut deeper than blades.”
Their argument drew them together,steps narrowing until the space between them vanished. Gracie became keenly aware of his height, his warmth, and the steady rise of his chest before her own. Her breath hitched as her bodice brushed his tunic, and the nearness made her dizzy. She refused to retreat, though every instinct screamed that she stood on the edge of something wild.
Jaxon’s voicedropped to a growl as he said, “Ye’re playin’ a dangerous game, lass, standin’ so close and bein’ so feisty with me.”
The words struckher like heat, and color flooded her cheeks. She realized in a heartbeat how easily anger could become something else entirely. With a small gasp, she stumbled back, breaking the spell that had wound tight between them.
“Best mind yerself,Gracie, for ye ken nae what fire ye stir.”
She drew in a shaky breath,trying to steady herself, and replied, “I stir naught but truth, whether ye wish to hear it or nae.”
His gaze lingered on her,dark and unreadable, and she felt both exposed and strangely seen. The room seemed to pulse.
“We will be leavin’in two days’ time for the village.”
Gracie openedher mouth to respond, yet no words came, for her heart still thundered too loudly. He nodded once, as though sealing a decree, and turned toward the door.
She watched him go,torn between relief and regret, and the library felt suddenly vast. Her hands trembled, not with fear, but with the strange ache of standing so near him and yet so far. Gracie pressed her palms to the edge of the table, grounding herself in the cool wood. She wondered if every clash between them would end this way, in heat and hurt entwined.
Long after the door closed,she remained where she stood, heart still racing. She had meant only to defend herself, yet she had glimpsed something in him that frightened and intrigued her in equal measure. Jaxon was not merely a laird of stone and law, but a man of fire, and she felt its pull even now. As the candles burned low, Gracie knew their journey would test far more than her courage.
Later that night,Gracie stood by the hearth, loosening the pins from her hair as candlelight flickered across the chamber. She had just slipped into her nightgown when the door opened behind her. Jaxon entered with the quiet confidence that always unsettled her.
“I am tired of sleepin’on the floor,” he said, his voice low with honest fatigue.
Gracie swallowedand turned to face him, her heart already quickening. “Ye are welcome to the bed,” she managed, “so long as ye keep yer hands to yerself, until I am ready.”
He studied her for a moment,then sighed and replied, “I can do that, lass, for I am very exhausted as it has been a trying day.”
