Chapter 11
“Today’s the day I will be the only Gallagher in the castle. Me nerves are distressed,” Gracie said to herself as she walked from her bedchamber through the castle.
Moments later, she entered the dining room to find Andrew and Margaret already seated at a long oak table laid with a hearty Scottish breakfast. Bowls of warm porridge steamed beside platters of smoked haddock, fresh eggs, and thick slices of bread with butter melting into their pores.
Oatcakes glistened with honey, and small dishes of berries added color to the gray stone chamber, while strong tea filled the air with comfort.
It was a meal meant to fortify the body for long journeys, and the sight of it made her throat tighten.
Margaret reached for Gracie’s hand at once and held it between her palms.
“I hate leavin’ ye here, me only bairn,” her mother said, voice trembling despite her attempt at calm. “Though the Laird seems honorable, a maither’s heart cannae help but worry.”
Gracie squeezed her fingers in return, trying to be brave for them both.
“I am a wee bit nervous, aye,” Gracie admitted softly, meeting her mother’s eyes. “But I am determined to be a good wife, and a good Lady to these folk.” She lifted her chin, drawing strength from the words as she spoke them. “Ye raised me to be kind and steady, and I will try to honor that here.”
Andrew cleared his throat and pointed his knife toward her in mock severity. “I want ye to write to us every month and tell us how ye are, lass,” he said, eyes warm despite the stern tone.
Gracie smiled through the ache in her chest and nodded. “I will, Faither, every month without fail.”
Her father’s gaze sharpened, the humor fading from his face. “If ye ever feel in danger, or wish to leave this place, ye send us word and we will come for ye,” Andrew said. “Damn clan honors and agreements, ye are me daughter first and always.”
Gracie felt tears burn behind her eyes and bowed her head in understanding. “I ken, and I thank ye for it,” she whispered.
They ate sharing memories of home and small plans for the future.
Margaret spoke of the garden at Castle McDougal, how the roses would bloom soon, and Andrew promised to send her sketches of the river as it changed with the seasons.
Gracie listened and committed every word to memory, knowing she would cling to them on lonely nights.
Each bite tasted bittersweet, nourishment mixed with farewell.
When the meal ended, Margaret rose and embraced her, holding her longer than courtesy allowed.
“We must see to the trunks. Be strong, me girl, but daenae forget to be soft,” her mother murmured against her hair.
Andrew followed, pressing a kiss to Gracie’s brow, his hands firm on her shoulders. “Ye carry our hearts with ye, wherever ye stand,” he said.
“I shall meet ye in the courtyard in an hour,” Gracie said as she watched them walk out to attend to their room.
She looked out the window, with a strange feeling in her heart. If she had not married the Laird, she would be home by now. Though that gave her some comfort, the thought of never finding a husband also terrified her. She knew that she had to let her parents go and start her own journey.
Gracie stood in the courtyard an hour later as trunks were hauled and stacked upon the McDougal carriage, the air alive with the creak of leather straps and the calls of grooms. Horses stamped and snorted, their breath clouding in the cool morning, while servants hurried with parcels and cloaks.
Banners stirred above the stone walls. The bustle only made the farewell feel more final, as though every footstep carried her parents farther from her.
Margaret clasped Gracie’s hands, tears already shining in her eyes.
“I daenae ken how to walk away from ye, me heart,” her mother whispered, voice breaking as she brushed Gracie’s cheek.
“Write to me, every chance ye have, and tell me every small thing, even the foolish bits, so I can still ken ye.”
Gracie nodded, choking on her own tears as she replied, “I will, Mam, I swear it, ye will nae be rid of me so easily.”
Andrew stepped close, wrapping his daughter in a firm embrace. “Ye are stronger than ye ken, lass,” he said gruffly, holding her at arm’s length to look upon her face. “Daenae let anyone make ye feel small in this place, for ye are McDougal born, and that means somethin’.”
Gracie smiled through her tears and answered, “I will remember, Faither, every day.”
Margaret reached up to smooth a loose curl from Gracie’s brow, her hands lingering as though she could memorize her child’s face. “Be kind to yerself, and daenae think ye must carry the world alone,” she said softly.
Gracie leaned into her touch and whispered, “I’ll try, though it feels like everythin’ has changed at once.”
Andrew placed a steadying hand on both of them, murmuring, “Change is nae the enemy, only fear is.”
April approached then, her own eyes bright as she dipped into a respectful curtsey. “It has been an honor, Laird and Lady McDougal,” she said, voice thick with feeling.
Margaret embraced her warmly and replied, “Take care of her, April, as ye have always done.”
April nodded, promising, “I will, as though she were me own sister.”
Gracie turned and saw Jaxon approaching across the stones, his stride purposeful and sure.
Her heart fluttered in a way that unsettled her, for she could not banish the memory of his kiss or the heat it had stirred within her.
She did not know how to greet him now, whether to stand as a shy bride or a wary stranger.
The confusion left her hands trembling at her sides.
Jaxon reached Andrew first and clasped his hand with solemn respect. “Laird McDougal,” he said, meeting the older man’s gaze, “I give ye me word that I will protect Gracie at all cost, as me wife and as the Lady of this clan.”
Andrew’s eyes hardened, though his grip remained steady. “Ye had best keep that promise, lad, for there will be hell to pay if ye fail her,” he replied.
Jaxon inclined his head. “Aye, and I would expect nay less from her faither.”
Andrew released him and turned once more to his daughter, drawing her into one final embrace. “Stand tall, Gracie,” he said softly, pressing his forehead to hers. “We walk away today, but we are never far from ye.”
She nodded, tears spilling freely now, and whispered, “I love ye both more than I can say.”
Margaret kissed her cheeks and stepped back, wiping her eyes with the corner of her shawl. “We will be waitin’ for yer letters,” she said, forcing a brave smile.
Gracie watched them climb into the carriage, her chest aching with every movement. When the driver cracked the reins and the wheels began to turn, she raised her hand in farewell until the McDougal colors disappeared beyond the gates.
She stood for a heartbeat in the wide courtyard, feeling the weight of her new life settle upon her shoulders.
Jaxon came to her side, not touching, yet close enough that she could feel his presence like warmth against her skin.
Gracie drew a steady breath, knowing that home now lay behind her, and whatever lay ahead would be faced within these walls.
Gracie turned to Jaxon, her heart still aching from the sight of her parents’ departure, and found his gaze upon her.
He inclined his head and said quietly, “Seems ye are truly mine now.”
The words landed with a weight she did not fully understand, and before she could answer, he bowed with formality. He turned and walked away across the stones, leaving her standing in the bright courtyard with questions blooming in her chest.
She looked to April, who offered her a gentle smile meant to steady her.
“I daenae ken what to make of him,” Gracie admitted in a low voice. “His ways confuse me so, and I think I would rather turn me thoughts to the bairns.”
April nodded, warmth in her eyes, and replied, “That is a wise choice, my lady, and they seem like good wee bairns indeed.”
They walked together through the castle corridors. Gracie felt her nerves settle. She paused before the nursery door, drawing in a breath to steady herself.
“I promised I’d play with them today,” she murmured, and April encouraged her with a nod.
Inside, Rose sat by a window with a book in her lap, while Eden crouched near a chest of toys, arranging wooden soldiers into a grand formation. Both girls looked up at once, surprise brightening into delight.
“Ye really came,” Rose said softly, clutching her book, and Eden bounced to her feet.
“What will we do, Lady Gracie, read or build somethin’ grand?”
Rose hugged her book and whispered, “I like stories.”
Eden crossed her arms and declared, “Stories are dull, I want a castle made of mud.”
Their voices sharpened, and Gracie stepped between them before tears or tempers could rise.
“Why nae both?” she asked gently. “A story told while we build a castle fit for any princess?”
The twins stared at her, confusion knitting their brows in perfect unison. Gracie laughed and reached for their hands, one small palm in each of hers.
“Come along and I will show ye,” she said, guiding them toward the door as their hesitation melted into giggles.
Eden exclaimed, “Outside, then,” while Rose added, “But ye must tell it kindly.”
They crossed into the gardens, where sunlight spilled over hedges and climbing roses, and birds flitted through the air.
Gracie chose a quiet corner near the riverbank, far from delicate blooms, where earth lay soft and dark.
She knelt without thought for her skirts and pressed her hands into the cool soil.
“This is where our castle shall rise,” she announced, and the girls clapped in delight.
Eden scooped mud with fierce enthusiasm, shaping walls and towers, while Rose arranged pebbles into careful paths. Gracie joined them, molding battlements and smoothing arches, her laughter rising free and light.
As they worked, she began to speak in a soft, lilting voice. “Once there was a princess who dinnae wish to wed the prince her parents chose for her.”
The twins leaned closer, hands stilled by wonder.
“Did she run away?” Eden asked, eyes wide, and Gracie nodded.
“Aye, she fled through forests and rivers, seeking a place where she could choose her own fate,” she said, shaping a tiny bridge.
Rose whispered, “Was she afraid?”
Gracie replied, “She was, yet she was brave enough to keep going.”
Mud stained her fingers, and sunlight warmed her back as she spun the tale onward.
The princess met friends who taught her strength, and beasts who tested her heart, until she learned that courage did not mean being unafraid.
Rose smiled dreamily, and Eden added new towers to the castle, declaring, “This is where she lives now.”
Gracie felt something loosen within her, a knot she had carried for years.
As the story ended, the castle stood proud in its messy glory, crowned with leaves and stones.
Rose sighed happily and said, “I like her, that princess.”
Eden grinned and replied, “She is clever, like ye.”
Gracie’s throat tightened, and she drew both girls into a gentle embrace.
In that quiet garden, with mud on her skirts and laughter in the air, Gracie felt the first true sense of belonging.
The confusion of Jaxon’s words faded, replaced by the simple joy of small hands in hers.
She realized that whatever storms lay ahead, she could offer these children kindness and safety.
And for the first time, the path before her seemed a little less lonely.