Chapter 8
Gracie wiped her cheeks with trembling fingers and turned back the way she thought she had come, determined to return to the light and music of the great hall.
The corridors twisted and narrowed, each passage looking like the last, and her heart beat faster with every wrong turn.
Torchlight guttered along the walls, casting shadows that seemed to stretch toward her.
She realized with a chill that she was well and truly lost.
A man’s laughter echoed ahead, thick and uneven, and she halted as a guard staggered into view. His tunic hung crooked, his eyes glassy with drink, and he swayed as he looked her over without recognition.
“Oh, lassie,” he slurred, licking his lips, “ye lost, are ye?”
He grinned and added, “Ye want me to help ye?”
“Aye,” Gracie said softly, her voice tight, “I am indeed lost.”
The guard stepped closer, his chuckle grew loud and echoed off the walls down the corridor. The scent of ale heavy on his breath. “Well then,” he said, his voice growing louder, “let me rescue ye, but it’ll cost ye a kiss.”
His hand slid around her waist, drawing her nearer.
“Nay,” she whispered, squirming as fear seized her, “let me go!”
She tried to pull back, but his grip tightened, and panic flared in her chest.
“Please,” she said, “I daenae ken ye.” The corridor seemed to close in, the torchlight wavering like her courage.
Suddenly the guard was wrenched away from her with brutal force. Gracie gasped as a broad shadow filled her sight, and the man was slammed against the stone wall.
Jaxon stood before him, one hand around the guard's throat, his eyes blazing with restrained fury. The air itself felt charged by his presence.
“Hamish,” Jaxon said, his voice low and deadly calm, “what are ye doin?” He leaned in, his tone hardening. “Ye dare touch me bride?”
Hamish’s eyes widened in terror, his words tumbling out. “I dinnae ken, me laird, I swear it,” he stammered, “I thought she was a lass from another clan.”
“That doesnae excuse yer poor behavior,” Jaxon said coldly. “I should cut off yer hands for it.”
Hamish’s knees buckled as he begged, “Please, me laird, daenae do it, I’ll be gone by morn, I swear it on me life.”
Jaxon’s jaw tightened, and after a heartbeat he shoved him away. “Go,” he said, “and never let me see yer ugly face again.”
Hamish fled down the corridor, his footsteps frantic and uneven. The echo of his retreat faded, leaving only the crackle of torches and Gracie’s unsteady breath. She turned to Jaxon, still shaken, and found his gaze fixed upon her.
Anger still burned in his eyes, though his voice remained controlled.
“What were ye thinkin’,” he asked, “wanderin’ the castle alone on such a night, with men deep in their cups?”
“I… I got lost,” she stuttered, her hands clasped before her. “I daenae ken me way around yet.”
He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming, and the air between them grew taut.
“What did I tell ye before,” he said quietly, “there is only one rule now.”
His eyes held hers without mercy. “Ye are mine alone, and nay other man will touch ye.”
Gracie’s breath caught as he loomed over her, fierce and magnificent, his protectiveness like a living flame.
She should have felt scolded, ashamed, yet something else stirred within her instead.
The heat of him, the certainty in his words, the way he had come for her without hesitation made her pulse race.
Her fear melted into a strange, aching awareness, one that fluttered low in her belly and left her lightheaded.
She realized with wonder and confusion that she wanted his nearness, even as it frightened her.
Jaxon’s gaze softened just a fraction as he took in her wide eyes and trembling lips.
“I willnae see ye harmed,” he said, more gently now, “nae by anyone.”
She nodded, unable to find her voice, and he straightened, though his presence still wrapped around her like a shield. The corridor no longer felt so dark, for he stood between her and every shadow.
“Come,” he said, offering his hand, “I’ll take ye back.”
Gracie placed her fingers in his, the contact sending a shiver through her. As he guided her through the winding halls, desire and safety tangled together in her heart. For the first time, she wondered if being his might mean more than duty, and that thought warmed her toward the light.
“It is me fault,” he said at last, his voice tight, “I should have shown ye the castle, but until I do, ye stay by me side.”
Jaxon’s grip closed around Gracie’s arm, firm but not cruel, and he led her swiftly down the corridor. His stride was long and purposeful, his anger still crackling in the air between them.
Gracie nodded, breathless, and whispered an apology she did not quite believe she owed. “I am truly sorry.”
He halted so abruptly that she nearly collided with his chest, and he turned to face her.
“If he had touched ye any further,” Jaxon said lowly, “I would have had his head.” His jaw flexed as he added, “See what ye do to me, lass, makin’ me get rid of me own good men.”
The words were sharp, yet beneath them she heard something raw and unsettled.
“I dinnae do anythin’,” Gracie protested, lifting her chin. “I only needed a moment away from the crowds, and I got lost, that is nae a crime.” Her pulse thudded in her ears as she met his gaze. “It isnae me fault a drunken guard forgot his manners.”
Jaxon exhaled, eyes still blazing. “Every man in this castle is me responsibility,” he said, “and now ye are as well.” His voice softened only slightly. “When danger finds ye, it finds me too. I have to follow ye around or keep ye in yer rooms.”
She felt heat coil within her at his words, the fierce claim in them stirring something deep.
“I dinnae ask to be followed like a bairn,” she said, though her voice wavered. “I am tryin’ to be brave in a place that isnae yet home.” Her hands clenched in her skirts as she added, “Ye cannae cage me for feelin’ overwhelmed.”
He stepped closer, crowding her space until the wall brushed her back. “I am nae tryin’ to cage ye,” Jaxon murmured, his voice a dangerous rumble. “I am tryin’ to keep ye alive.” His eyes searched her face, as if daring her to deny the truth in that.
Gracie’s breath hitched, her heart racing as she felt his nearness wrap around her.
“Ye make it sound as though I am made of glass,” she said, though her body betrayed her words. “I have lived all me life in a castle, I ken shadows and halls and lonely corners.” Her voice softened. “I only forgot that this one is different.”
“That is exactly it,” he replied, his gaze dark. “This is me home, and men here answer to me, nae to ye. Nae yet.” He lowered his voice. “Until they do, I willnae risk ye wanderin’ where I cannae reach ye.”
Her cheeks burned, torn between irritation and a strange flutter of gratitude.
“Ye speak as though I belong to ye in every way,” she said. “I am still me own person, Jaxon.” Yet even as she said it, her pulse leapt.
“Aye, ye are, Gracie” he agreed quietly, “but ye are also me wife.” His thumb brushed her sleeve, a fleeting touch that sent warmth through her.
“That means the world will see ye as an extension of me, whether ye wish it or nae.” His mouth curved in a humorless smile. “And I will defend what is mine.”
Gracie swallowed, desire threading through her like fire. “I daenae ken how to be what ye expect,” she admitted. “Yesterday I was only Gracie Gallagher, and today I am Lady McMillan.” Her eyes shone. “I am afraid I will fail.”
He stared at her, some of his anger draining away. “I expect honesty,” he said, “and courage when ye can find it.” His voice lowered. “I expect ye to stay alive and nae wander off like this.” A pause followed, heavy with unspoken meaning.
She gasped. “How dare ye. I am a grown woman that kens her own mind!”
“Then prove it and stop doin’ daft things like wanderin’ the castle on yer own, until I say ye can,” he scowled.
“Until ye say I can? I am nae one of yer guards to command, Jaxon,” she said.
Jaxon’s gaze lingered on her lips, then lifted back to her eyes. “Ye make it difficult to think clearly,” he confessed, his tone rough. “Every time ye look at me like that, I forget all me careful plans.” He stepped back a fraction, as if restraining himself.
Gracie’s breath trembled, desire blooming where fear had been. “Perhaps ye should stop blamin’ me for that,” she whispered. “I am only standin’ here.”
Yet her body leaned toward him, betraying her words.
He straightened, reclaiming control, though his eyes still burned. “Come, we have guests and we must do our duty,” he said quietly, offering his arm this time instead of seizing hers.
“Stay by me side, and I will show ye the way back. I will nae hear any more arguing from ye. I’ve had enough of it for now. Ye are lucky I daenae throw ye over me shoulder and lock ye in the bedchamber.”
“And ye're lucky I daenae scream,” she said.
She watched his face turned dark and with that, she slipped her hand into the crook of his arm, her heart racing, knowing that something far more dangerous than getting lost had begun. She was alone with him in a dark corridor and he could take what was rightfully his at any moment.
What if he kisses me? What will I do?
They continued down the corridor. Gracie felt her pulse quicken.
But he kept his word to be a gentleman. Moments later, Jaxon led her back into the great hall, the warm glow of torches flickering across the stone walls.
The scent of roasted meats and fresh bread mingled with the tang of ale, filling the hall with a heady aroma.
People from both clans had gathered, voices raising in laughter and cheer, the sounds of fiddles and drums weaving above the din.
Jaxon guided her to their table, his hand firm on her back, and she felt a shiver run through her at his closeness.