“Very good. Try it again.”
“Laird MacGhee,” Eloise repeated, sounding more confident. “Laird MacGhee. It sounds important, doesn’t it?”
“It is important. He’s the leader of his clan, which means he takes care of many people.”
“Like how you take care of me?”
Francesca’s heart clenched at the innocent comparison. “Something like that, yes.”
Eloise yawned, settling back into her pillows. “Do you think he’ll like us, Aunt Francesca? Really like us, I mean?”
The question hung in the darkness between them, loaded with all of Eloise’s hopes and fears about their new life.
“I think,” Francesca said carefully, “that he’s a good man who will keep us safe. And sometimes, that’s the most important thing of all.”
“Will you stay until I fall asleep?”
“Of course, darling.”
As Eloise’s breathing gradually deepened into the peaceful rhythm of sleep, Francesca found herself thinking about the evening’s events. The touch of Declan’s fingers on her skin, the way his eyes had darkened when she’d defied him, the careful distance he maintained even as attraction sparked between them.
She settled into her own bed, but sleep eluded her. Every time she closed her eyes, she could feel the phantom touch of his fingers against hers, could see the hunger in his grey eyes before he had shuttered it away. The man was an enigma. Hewas capable of such gentleness with Eloise, such unexpected vulnerability in their conversation, yet willing to wound her with calculated cruelty to maintain his distance.
Focus,she told herself firmly.This marriage is not about your heart. It is about keeping Eloise safe.
But even as she repeated the practical reminders, she could not deny the truth. She was drawn to him in ways that had nothing to do with duty or necessity. The challenge now would be learning to navigate that attraction without letting it compromise what mattered most—building a stable home where Eloise could grow up loved and protected.
Whatever games Declan claimed she was playing, she was not the only one struggling with unwanted feelings. She had seen the truth in his eyes, felt it in his touch. The fire between them might be dangerous, but it was real.
8
“Ye look like ye’re heading to yer own execution, cousin.”
Fraser’s amused voice cut through Declan’s brooding as he stood at the bottom of the main staircase. The younger man was already dressed in his clan colors, looking far more at ease than Declan felt.
“The evening is important,” Declan replied curtly, adjusting his formal Highland dress for the third time. “The clan needs to accept her.”
“And will they? Accept her, I mean?”
“They’ll accept what I tell them to accept.”
Fraser chuckled. “Aye, but it would be easier if ye actually wanted them to like the lass, wouldnae it?”
“What I want is irrelevant. This is about alliance and necessity.”
“Is it now?” Fraser’s tone grew more pointed. “Because ye’ve been pacing these halls like a caged wolf ever since she arrived. I doubt ye slept at all last night. And ye still havenae told me what happened between ye two. But whatever it was, this doesnae look like indifference to me.”
Declan shot him a warning look. “Careful, Fraser.”
Fraser raised his two open palms high. “I’m just saying, cousin. But I’ll see you and the beautiful future Lady at the festival.”
“Aye,” Duncan responded, his thoughts distracted from Fraser even as he registered his cousin walking away with a wide grin on his face.
Tonight would be Francesca’s first public appearance as his betrothed, her introduction to the clan that would soon call her their lady. The success of this evening could determine how readily his people would accept her.
Movement at the top of the stairs made him look up, and his breath caught in his throat.
Francesca descended like something from a dream, every inch the English lady yet somehow perfectly suited to be mistress of a Highland castle. She had chosen to wear one of her London gowns, a deep emerald silk that brought out the color of her eyes and complemented her golden hair. White gloves coveredher arms to the elbow, and delicate silk slippers peeked from beneath her skirts. Her hair was arranged in an elaborate style high on her head with a few artful strands left to frame her face.
