Chapter 4
Chapter Four
“Ileave ye for only a few hours, lass, as we journey to me castle and yer new home,” Jaxon said.
Gracie lifted her chin and replied, “Aye, me laird.”
She felt Jaxon's hand, firm yet gentle at her elbow. The murmur of the gathered clans faded behind them, as he escorted her to her parents’ waiting carriage.
“Ye are me wife now. I insist ye call me Jaxon.”
She hesitated only a heartbeat before answering, “I understand, Jaxon.”
He leaned close and placed a soft kiss upon her cheek, warm and deliberate, as though sealing the change in her life with a single touch.
Gracie felt the heat of his hand as he helped her into the carriage, his palm steady at her back.
The contact sent a strange rush through her, a warmth that startled her with its suddenness.
She had known fear and doubt, but this was something else, unfamiliar and stirring.
It left her breathless as she settled upon the seat.
Inside the carriage sat Andrew and Margaret, with April perched quietly beside them.
She watched Jaxon step back, nodding once before the door closed. The wheels creaked, the horses shifted, and the carriage jerked into motion. Castle McMillan lay ahead, and with it a life she could scarcely imagine.
As the road rolled beneath them, Gracie folded her hands in her lap.
I accepted because I feared there would never be another. But did I do the right thing?
The truth was heavy and sharp. Edmund’s absence had spoken louder than any insult, telling her she was too ugly to be chosen. Jaxon’s offer had been a lifeline, and she had clung to it without daring to question.
Margaret spoke with a tender concern and asked softly, “Is this truly what ye want, me love?”
Gracie’s throat tightened, and she forced herself to meet her mother’s eyes.
“Yes, Maither,” she said, steadying her voice, “I believe Jaxon is as good an offer as any. I never met Edmund, so I see nay difference in the choice.”
“I am sorry for puttin’ ye in this situation,” Andrew said quietly, “if I had known…” his shoulders sagged, regret shadowing his face.
“Daenae fash yerself, Faither,” she said gently, “it is done. Let us look forward to the future and me life at Castle McMillan.” Gracie reached out and touched his arm.
Margaret squeezed her hand, eyes bright with unshed tears.
Gracie turned away before her own could fall, pressing her forehead to the glass.
Outside, the Scottish countryside unfurled in soft greens and browns, with hills rolling along.
Heather brushed the road’s edge, and stone walls stitched the land together in quiet order.
She watched sheep drift across distant slopes, white flecks against emerald grass.
Smoke curled from thatched cottages, thin and white, promising hearths and supper.
Rivers flashed silver in the sun, winding through valleys that seemed ancient as time itself.
Each mile carried her farther from Castle McDougal, from the safety of all she had known.
The wind stirred the grasses, bending them like waves upon a sea, and she felt herself moving with them.
Fear still lived in her chest, but it shared space now with something like resolve.
Jaxon’s words echoed in her mind, firm and certain, and she wondered what sort of man could hold such command and such heat.
She did not know if love would follow, yet she sensed her life would never again be small.
“I will be brave,” Gracie held herself steady and whispered.
After a few more hours, Castle McMillan revealed itself in all its splendor, rising from a bend in a bright river like a crown of stone.
Towers soared high and proud, banners snapping in the wind, their colors bold against gray walls weathered by centuries.
A broad bridge arched over the water, leading to iron gates flanked by watchful guards, while swans drifted along the river’s edge as though the land itself were at peace. Gracie gasped.
It dwarfs Castle McDougal, this place is nay mere home but a kingdom unto itself.
The carriage rolled into the wide courtyard just as the sun was nearing the horizon, wheels echoing off the stone, and servants hurried forward as the doors opened.
Jaxon approached at once, offering his hand, and Gracie placed her gloved fingers in his palm as he helped her down.
A shiver traced her spine at his touch, the same warmth blooming through her as before, unsettling and strangely welcome.
She steadied herself upon the flagstones, aware of every eye upon her and of the man who stood beside her.
“Do ye approve of yer new home, Gracie?” Jaxon studied her face and asked quietly.
Bewildered, she turned in a slow circle, taking in the towers, the river’s gleam beyond the walls, and the bustle of his household.
“It is very bonnie.”
His mouth curved in a rare, small smile as he replied, “Good, I’m glad ye approve, and now if ye will allow me, I’ll show ye and yer family the rooms we’ve prepared for yer stay.”
Andrew inclined his head and said, “Thank ye for yer hospitality, Laird McMillan.”
They crossed the courtyard beneath fluttering banners, boots and slippers alike ringing upon stone worn smooth by generations.
The great doors opened into a vast hall where firelight danced across carved beams and long tables gleamed with polished wood.
Stairs swept upward in graceful arcs, while corridors branched away like arteries, carrying life to every corner of the keep.
Gracie felt as though she had stepped into a living creature, ancient and strong, and she wondered where she would fit within its heart.
As they walked, servants bowed and murmured greetings, their eyes alight with curiosity for the new Lady of the keep. Tapestries lined the walls, telling stories of battles won and lands claimed.
Jaxon guided them with confident strides, his presence commanding yet calm, and she followed as though tethered by an invisible thread.
He led Andrew and Margaret first to their chambers, pushing open tall oak doors that revealed a room fit for royalty.
“This will be yer home while ye stay with us,” Jaxon said, his voice respectful, “and I hope it brings ye ease after the day’s trials.”
A grand bed carved with thistles and lions stood against the far wall, draped in rich blue linens, while a hearth crackled beneath a mantle of polished stone.
The gold light of the sun setting beyond spilled through arched windows onto a woven rug, and a small sitting area with cushioned chairs overlooked the river below.
It was a place of comfort and honor, and Gracie saw her mother’s eyes widen in awe.
Margaret pressed a hand to her chest and murmured, “It is more than we ever dreamed,” while Andrew offered a solemn nod.
Gracie lingered in the doorway, taking in every detail, feeling both pride and a sudden pang of distance from all she had known. The room seemed to whisper that her life had truly turned, that there was no returning unchanged.
The castle no longer felt merely grand, but watchful, as though measuring her worth and waiting for her to claim her place.
She squared her shoulders, reminding herself that she was no longer Gracie Gallagher, but Gracie Doyle, Lady McMillan.
Whatever fear remained, she would not let it rule her in this towering home of stone.
“And now to yer room, Gracie.” He gestured for her and April to follow.
Gracie held her breath and walked behind Jaxon as he led them through the castle corridors, finally stopping before an elaborately carved door, grander than the one she had already seen. There was an older woman waiting at attention outside of it. Her gray hair neatly braided beneath a white cap.
“This is me maid, Brianna,” he said. “She attends these rooms and will check in from time to time.”
Gracie dipped her head politely, murmuring a greeting as Brianna returned a warm, respectful nod.
Jaxon opened the door to reveal a spacious sitting room bathed in soft light as the sun dipped below the horizon and the moon rose over the hills.
Plush chairs upholstered in deep green surrounded a low table carved with curling vines, and a thick rug warmed the stone beneath her slippers.
Shelves lined one wall, already filled with books and small treasures, while a hearth stood ready for evening fires.
Gracie breathed in and said softly, “It is a very lovely room.”
He turned to April and said, “This is where ye will be able to find yer mistress. For now, Brianna will show ye to yer room in the servant quarters.”
“Call for me if ye need me, Lady McMillan” April said.
She nodded to Gracie, her eyes shining with pride, and followed Brianna from the chambers without protest. The door closed behind them with a muted thud, leaving Gracie alone with her new husband. The quiet settled thickly, filled only by the distant sounds of the castle’s life.
Gracie drifted across the sitting chamber, fingertips brushing carved wood and embroidered cushions as though to assure herself it was real.
Everything gleamed with care and wealth, and she felt suddenly small within its grandeur, a girl from a humbler keep stepping into a laird’s world.
She crossed to the tall window and looked down upon the courtyard where horses were being led away and servants hurried about their tasks.
Beyond the walls, the river curved like a silver ribbon through green fields, glittering under the moonlight and the sight stole her breath.
She thought of her childhood rooms at Castle McDougal, modest yet warm, and felt a pang for the safety they had always promised. This place was beautiful, yet vast, and it whispered of expectations she did not yet understand.
Will I be equal to this, or will these walls one day echo with me failures?
Her hand drifted to the mole near her eye, and she forced herself to lower it.
“Are ye pleased, lass?” he asked, his voice low and steady.
Gracie turned from the window, meeting his eyes. “Aye, I am,” she replied, and meant it, though her heart still trembled.
She drew a breath and added, “It feels like a dream, and I fear I’ll wake to find it gone.”
“It is nae a dream, and it will be yers for the rest of yer life.”
His certainty wrapped around her like a cloak, heavy yet strangely comforting. She studied his face, the strong lines and steady gaze, and wondered if she might one day believe him without question.
“Thank ye,” she said quietly, unsure what else to offer in this moment between strangers bound by vows.
Gracie returned to the window, but now she stood taller, imagining herself walking those battlements and greeting those servants as their Lady.
The castle no longer completely new, but full of possibility, like a book whose first page had just been turned.
She did not know what her marriage would become, yet a small spark of hope stirred within her.
Perhaps, in time, this grand place would feel like home.
Jaxon pushed open another door from the sitting room.
“And this is our bedchamber.” Warm firelight revealed a romantic space, with a great canopy bed draped in pale linen, a hearth crackling softly at the far wall, and a small table with two carved chairs set beside a window.
Rich tapestries hung between stone columns, and candles cast a golden glow across polished wood and embroidered cushions. Gracie halted in the doorway, cheeks blooming pink as she took it in.
“Our bedchamber?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper. “As in… we both sleep here?”
Jaxon lifted a brow, a hint of amusement touching his eyes. “Aye, ye are me wife, are ye nae?”
She clasped her hands before her and said quickly, “I am nae ready to perform me marital duties, me laird, for I have only just met ye this very day.”
A smirk tugged at his mouth, and he replied, “Are these the same terms ye would have given me brother?”
Heat rushed to her face, and she snapped, “I daenae ken, for yer brother left me at the altar.”
Jaxon’s gaze hardened, and he said, “He is a bampot, and his loss is me gain.”
Gracie drew in a breath and asked, “Why would ye marry me when ye could have anyone ye wished?”
He stepped closer and answered simply, “Why would I want anyone else?”
Her heart began to pound, hope fluttering in her chest at the thought that he might truly find her comely. For a fleeting moment, she imagined that perhaps she was not as unwanted as she had always believed.
Then Jaxon added, almost casually, “I need a maither for me daughters, and ye will do just fine.”
The words struck her like a chill wind, and she echoed, “Daughters?”
He nodded. “Aye, twins, and ye are their new maither now.”
He gestured toward the bed and said, “Rest, Gracie, I will sleep elsewhere this night,” then turned and walked from the room.
The door closed softly behind him, leaving the chamber hushed but for the fire’s gentle crackle.
Gracie stood alone amid silk and stone, her emotions tangled and aching.
She felt confused by his kindness and wounded by his distance, warmed by his presence and chilled by his words that she was simply a means to an end.
A woman that was brought here simply to raise children, not to be… loved.
Sitting on the edge of the grand bed, she whispered to the empty room, “I'm uncertain whether this marriage will be me salvation or me greatest trial.”