When the solarfinally fell silent, Gracie turned to April and whispered, “Help me, if ye please.”
Together they liftedRose and Eden, each child light in their arms, their heads resting trustingly against Gracie’s shoulder.
“Sleep well, me wee stars,”she murmured as they walked, feeling the weight of their small lives like a sacred charge. The corridor candles glowed low, guiding them through the quiet castle as if it, too, watched over its children.
In the nursery,Gracie laid Rose upon her bed, smoothing the curls from her brow, then tucked Eden in beside her sister. She drew the covers up, brushing a kiss upon each small cheek.
“Ye did a brave thing today,”she whispered, though they could not hear her. She stood there a moment longer, committing their peaceful faces to her heart.
At last,she returned to her bedchamber, the echoes of the evening still humming through her bones. The hearth burned low, shadows stretching long across the room, and Jaxon was not yet there. Gracie sat upon the edge of the bed, hands folded in her lap, thinking of Glenmoor and woolen scarves and small hands carrying hope. She waited, telling herself she would speak to him of all that had been done.
The silence wrapped around her,gentle and heavy all at once. She lay back against the pillows, staring at the canopy above, replaying the night in her mind. For the first time since coming to this castle, she felt certain she had done something that mattered. That certainty soothed her more than any blanket.
Her eyelids grew heavy,and her thoughts drifted from needles and firelight to snow and distant hills. She imagined the scarves around children’s necks, imagined their laughter in the cold, and a soft smile curved upon her lips. Sleep claimed her before she knew it, leaving her dreaming of warmth carried across winter winds.
Gracie slept,wrapped in the knowledge that she had begun to belong… to be Lady McMillan.
15
Jaxon stood beside the loaded cart, his eyes tracing the trunks bound with rope.
“Connor,”he said, his voice low, “what is all this?”
Connor merely shrugged,a crooked smile tugging at his mouth. “It appeared at dawn, me laird, as if by magic.”
Gracie approachedfrom between the stalls, her skirts gathered in one hand and a soft flush upon her cheeks.
“It wasnae magic,”she said gently. “I added it.”
Jaxon turned toward her,brows drawing together as he studied her face.
“Ye have coveredfor drought and famine,” she continued, “but I wished to take warmth upon meself.” She gestured to the carts.“The maids told me Glenmoor lacks firewood, and the cold bites harder than hunger there.”
Jaxon’s jaw tightened,and a flicker of unease passed through his eyes.
He felt a prickle of anger,not at her, but at the silence of his council. He felt disappointed with himself for dismissing Gracie’s earlier questions about Glenmoor. A feeling that now felt like his own failing. Michael had spoken only of crops and water, never of frost creeping into bones. It troubled him that his own people might fear speaking fully to him. Gracie watched his face and faltered.
“Ye are displeased?”she asked softly. “Yer brow furrows, and I fear I overstepped.” She clasped her hands. “If I have, I am sorry.”
Jaxon shookhis head at once.
“Ye dinnae overstep,ye did well, lass” he said. “I only wonder why this was not in the report given to me.” He exhaled. “It troubles me that me folk dinnae trust me with the whole truth.”
Gracie tilted her head,thinking.
“Mayhap,”she said, “they feared that if they asked for too much, they would receive naught at all.” She met his gaze. “Sometimes folk ask only for what seems least shameful.”
Jaxon nodded slowly,the truth of it settling upon him.
“Show me,”he said at last. Gracie stepped forward and lifted a lid, revealing stacks of knitted blankets, shawls folded with care, hats and gloves arranged in neat rows.
“We worked late into the night,”she explained. “The women, even the bairns helped.”
Jaxon reachedout and touched a scarf, rough wool warming beneath his fingers. “Ye did this in a single evenin’?” he asked.
“Aye,”she replied, a hint of pride in her voice. “It seemed wrong to wait when winter waits for nay one.”
Connor let out a low whistle.“By Saint Andrew,” he said, “ye’ve rallied half the castle without so much as a command.”
