Chapter 10
Gracie blinked, startled by the morning light spilling into the chamber.
Her eyes, almost unwillingly, roamed over Jaxon.
He was without a tunic as he rolled up the blankets on the floor.
His back was broad and strong, the muscles rippling under his tanned skin, and the curve of his shoulders made her stomach twist in a way she had not expected.
She swallowed hard, realizing how heated she felt, cheeks flushing as her gaze traveled to his arms, sculpted and firm, and the lines of his abdomen, hard and defined, that made her pulse quicken.
Jaxon’s voice broke the silence, low and steady. “I see yer awake.”
His piercing blue eyes caught hers before she could look away. “Daenae fash yerself, I will be gettin’ dressed to go about me duties. I have much to oversee today.”
Gracie nodded, fumbling with the sheets around her. “I understand… ye are a laird with much on yer plate.” Her voice was soft, almost hesitant, and she felt the heat in her cheeks intensify as he moved closer to the edge of the blankets.
He paused, leaning slightly on his elbow, his gaze fixed on her. “Ye dinnae sleep well?” His tone was calm, but there was an underlying sharpness, the quiet edge of concern that made her heart flutter.
“I… I slept well, aye,” she said, her eyes dropping for a moment, ashamed that she had been stolen away by thoughts of his bare form. She cleared her throat and tried to focus on anything else in the room, the fireplace, the blankets, the small details of the chamber, but it was impossible.
Jaxon’s eyes narrowed slightly, reading her hesitation.
“Yer thoughts are nae on the day’s duties, lass,” he said, his voice low, almost teasing, though the possessiveness in it made her pulse hammer.
He shifted closer, enough that she could feel the heat of his body near hers, the scent of him, woodsmoke and leather, filling the space.
Gracie swallowed, biting her lip. “I… it’s nae easy, Jaxon,” she admitted, her voice trembling slightly. “I… I daenae ken why, but… I feel… restless.”
Her words came out in a rush, and she could feel the tension coiling inside her like a spring, a mixture of nervousness, fascination, and something she couldn’t name.
“Restless, eh?” he murmured, leaning just a fraction closer, so that the proximity alone made her breath hitch. “Ye are mine now, lass, and I will protect ye. But ye cannae hide yer heart from me, nor yer desire, nor yer fear.”
Her breath caught, and she looked down at her hands in the blankets. She wanted to deny it, to push the thoughts away, but her body betrayed her. She could feel a warmth between her thighs, a heat in her chest, and her cheeks burned like fire.
Jaxon’s hand rested lightly on the blanket near hers, not touching her skin yet, but the implication was electric.
“Ye feel it, do ye nae?” he asked, voice low, almost a growl.
Gracie’s lips parted, but no words came out.
She shook her head, but the motion was feeble, meaningless even to herself.
Her gaze flicked up to his, and she saw that smoldering intensity, the same possessive look that had terrified her the previous night now igniting something unspoken, something dangerous in its pull.
Jaxon let a slow, almost predatory smile curl across his lips. “Ye daenae need to speak, lass. Yer body speaks for ye,” he murmured, leaning just a little closer, until she could feel the heat radiating from him, the nearness that made her pulse race.
“I… I…” she stammered, torn between shame and longing. Her hands clenched at the sheets, unsure whether to cover herself or reach for him. The thought of touching him, of being near him, made her dizzy with desire and fear.
He lowered his head slightly, so that his lips brushed her temple, and the breathy warmth made her shiver. “Ye are mine, Gracie. Every bit of ye belongs to me now,” he whispered, his voice a low rumble that made her heart hammer in her chest.
Gracie’s breath hitched, and she could not look away. She wanted to run, to flee from this intensity, but something deep within her stirred, a longing she could not name, a pull toward him that was both frightening and intoxicating.
Jaxon straightened slightly, his hand still hovering over the blanket.
“I leave only because duty calls,” he said, voice firm, but there was a note of promise in it, a quiet warning of what was to come.
“But ken this. Daenae tell anyone what happened with the guard in the corridor. Do ye understand?”
Gracie’s lips parted, and she nodded slowly, caught between fear, desire, and awe.
Her pulse was wild, her chest tight, and the thought of him, so strong, so commanding, standing over her, made her feel both protected and incredibly exposed.
She swallowed hard, knowing that every heartbeat in her chest belonged to him now, whether she wanted it or not.
“Of course, I have told nay one and will keep such a thing to meself,” she said.
Her thoughts then turned to his words from the night before, the promise in them stirring both curiosity and unease. She twisted the sheet in her fingers, heart beating too fast for so early an hour. At last, she drew a breath and found her voice.
“Jaxon,” she said softly.
He looked at her with that steady, assessing gaze.
“What did ye mean by what ye said last night?”
He arched a brow, a faint curve of humor touching his mouth. “I said much the night before, lass,” he replied. “Can ye be more direct?”
Heat flooded her cheeks, and she swallowed. “Ye said… ‘Trust me lass. If I thought ye could handle it, I would show ye exactly how much I want ye.’” Her voice wavered, but she held his gaze.
Jaxon’s expression shifted, the humor fading into something earnest and darkly intent.
“Aye,” he said quietly. “It’s obvious I want ye, Gracie, but I ken ye’re nae ready. So, I will give ye time to get used to the idea.”
She scoffed, though her heart fluttered. “I have never heard of a man keepin’ back because his wife isnae ready.” Her eyes searched his, half daring him to contradict her.
He lifted one brow. “Ye have now.” His voice was calm, certain, as though it were the simplest truth in the world.
“And how would ye prove such a thing?” she asked, surprised by her own boldness. The words left her before she could take them back.
A slow, dangerous smile touched his lips. “I’ll prove it,” he said, “Ye asked for this, lass.”
He climbed on top of her, pinning her wrists to the bed. She released a small gasp.
He leaned in and kissed her, and the world seemed to tilt beneath her.
His mouth was warm and firm, unyielding yet careful, as though he balanced restraint with desire in every breath.
Gracie moaned softly. Jaxon deepened the kiss just enough to make her heart stutter.
His hand slid down her arm to her waist through the blanket, not roaming, only anchoring her there, as if to remind her she was his.
The kiss lingered, slow and deliberate, carrying heat that spread through her chest and down her spine.
She felt his breath mingle with hers, felt the quiet power in the way he held himself back even as he drew her closer.
Her world narrowed to the beat of her heart and the steady presence of him.
When he finally lifted his head, her lips tingled, and she found herself chasing the space he left behind.
Jaxon rested his forehead against hers, breathing slowly. “There,” he murmured. “That is me wantin’ ye, and stoppin’ all the same.”
She opened her eyes, dazed, still caught in the warmth of it. “Ye stopped,” she whispered, as though the idea itself were strange.
“Aye,” he said, voice low and steady. “Because I keep me promises, Gracie. I will nae touch ye more before ye are ready, no matter how much I desire ye.”
Her heart swelled with something new, something tender and unsettling all at once. She had expected hunger, perhaps command, but not this careful strength. The realization made her chest ache.
Jaxon straightened, stepping back just enough to give her space, though his gaze never left her. “I will wait,” he said simply. “Nae because I must, but because I choose to.”
Gracie lay there, lips still warm, watching him with wide eyes. Desire still stirred within her, but now it was braided with trust and wonder. She realized that in holding himself back, he had given her something far more powerful than touch.
Gracie watched him walk out, the door closing with a soft thud.
She remained seated, fingers pressed to her lips as if the warmth of him still lingered there.
Her heart beat in uneven rhythm, and she could not tell whether it was fear or longing that made her breath come shallow.
Never in her life had a man stirred her so, and the truth of it left her shaken.
She had believed herself plain, a lass meant for quiet corners and modest dreams, yet he had looked at her as though she were something rare.
The kiss had not taken from her, and still it had given her more than she knew how to hold.
She felt awakened in ways she did not understand, as though a door within her had opened to a room filled with light and heat.
The confusion of it made her press her palm to her breast, steadying herself against a tide she had never known existed.
Her thoughts returned to his restraint, to the strength in the way he had chosen to stop.
Men were meant to claim, her mother had said, meant to lead without hesitation, yet Jaxon had shown her another kind of power.
In holding himself back, he had given her space to breathe, to choose, and that choice felt more intimate than any bold act could have been.
It frightened her that she wanted to step toward him even as she clung to the safety of distance.
Gracie rose from the bed and crossed to the window, gazing out at the waking courtyard below.
The castle moved on as it always had, yet she felt changed, as though she carried a secret fire beneath her skin.
She realized that desire did not make her weak, nor did it steal her gentleness, but rather asked her to grow.
And as the morning light touched her face, she wondered.
How will I ken when I'm ready for the marriage bed?