They passeda stream that wound through stones like a ribbon of glass. “I used to sit there as a lad,” Jaxon said. “I would throw pebbles and dream of leavin’ the castle.”
Gracie glanced at him.“Did ye wish to flee?”
He shook his head.“Nay, only to see more of the world, then return stronger for me clan.”
She smiled.“That is a good sort of dream.”
As they rode,he studied her from the corner of his eye. She sat tall despite nerves, her hands steady on the reins, her gaze thoughtful rather than fearful. He felt pride stir where lust had been, and it surprised him. She was not merely beautiful; she was capable, and that drew him more deeply than any curve. The thought unsettled him, for it meant he was already bound in ways he had not planned.
“Gracie,”he said, “what made ye think of warmth before food?” She considered.
“Hunger kills slow,but cold steals breath in a single night,” she replied. “I thought of bairns wakin’ with numb fingers.”
Jaxon’s throat tightened.“Ye think as a lady should,” he said.
She looked startled.“I only thought as a woman would,” she answered.
They crested a hill,and a distant valley spread before them, pale and thin beneath winter’s grip. Smoke rose weakly from scattered roofs.
Gracie inhaled.“They look so small from here,” she whispered.
Jaxon said,“Aye, but they are ours.”
She turned to him then,meeting his eyes. “I will do me best to be a good Lady,” she said. “That is all I can promise.”
He inclined his head.“It is more than enough,” he replied. The wind tugged at her hair, and for a moment, he forgot duty and saw only the woman riding beside him, brave and uncertain, already changing the land he ruled.
Jaxon rode aheadand raised his hand to the guards. “We will stop at the brook,” he called, “let the horses drink and rest.”
The men answeredin unison and guided the carts toward a stand of birch trees. He turned back and took Gracie’s reins, leading her horse down the gentle slope toward the water.
He helped her dismount,steadying her with firm hands. “Careful now,” he said, his voice low. “The stones are slick.”
She smiled up at him.“I am nae made of glass, me laird,” she teased, though she leaned into his support.
Jaxon spreada wool blanket upon the grass where sunlight dappled through leaves. He fetched his satchel and laid out oat bread, smoked cheese, dried apples, and a small skin of honeyed mead. The brook murmured beside them, clear and bright, and birds flitted through the branches above. Gracie settled on the blanket, smoothing her skirts, and looked about as though the moment were a gift.
The guards restedbeneath the trees at a respectful distance, some watering horses, others sharing quiet jests. Jaxon poured water from a flask and handed her a cup.
“Drink and eat,”he said. “We’ve a long ride yet.”
She brokebread and offered him half, and he accepted, noting how easily she shared.
He ate in thoughtful silence,watching the way light caught in her hair. He had known duty as weight and burden, yet here it felt like purpose shaped by her presence. She had not been raised for this life, yet she stepped into it with gentleness and resolve. It stirred something in him that was neither command nor desire alone, but a strange hope.
At last he said,“Ye had nothin’ to worry about.”
She blinked. “About what?”
He met her eyes.“About being a lady,” he answered. “Ye already perform yer duties better than many who have led for years.”
Color rose in her cheeks.“Ye are kind,” she said softly. “I only try.”
“I mean it,”he insisted. “Ye listen, ye care, and ye act.”
She laughed under her breath.“That sounds more like a maither than a lady.”
He smiled.“Aye, and that is why it matters.”
