Chapter 22
Jaxon paused for a moment, watching Gracie move among the villagers with a grace he had scarcely expected.
Her voice was gentle yet firm, soothing the fears of the elders and encouraging the children alike.
He couldn’t help but admire her, the ease with which she managed the situation, and the way her eyes lit with warmth whenever she spoke to those in need.
It struck him deeply, she had a natural gift for leadership, and not even he had foreseen how quickly she could win the hearts of his people.
A small child, no more than five, toddled toward Gracie clutching a worn doll. The little girl’s eyes shone with hope and shyness as she extended it toward her. Gracie knelt down, taking the doll in her hands, and her face broke into a delighted smile.
“Och, it’s the prettiest doll I’ve ever seen! Ye must take good care of her,” she said, returning it carefully to the girl, who beamed with pride and ran off to show her friends.
Jaxon observed quietly, his chest swelling with a mix of pride and wonder.
The villagers around them whispered softly, nodding and exchanging glances of approval, and he realized that their murmurs held admiration not only for him but for Gracie as well.
She had earned their trust without force, without command, simply by showing genuine care and respect.
He felt a rare, fierce happiness at seeing her accepted so completely, as if the entire village recognized her as their Lady.
He stepped closer, brushing an errant lock of hair from his brow, and allowed himself a small smile. Gracie’s laughter reached him from across the square, pure and infectious, and it made him feel lighter, less burdened by the responsibilities of the clan for a brief, perfect moment.
He saw in her the woman he had married, not just as his partner, but as someone who could walk beside him in duty and compassion alike. And in that instant, Jaxon knew, without question, that Gracie had become the heart of his clan, as much as any Laird could hope for in a wife.
“Make sure everything is stacked properly, lads,” he called, his voice carrying.
Jaxon wiped the sweat from his brow as he stepped back to survey the bustling activity at the village of Glenmoor. Barrels of grain, sacks of dried fish, and crates of preserved meat were being hauled into the storehouses with the help of Connor and the villagers.
“Aye, me laird. Nothin’ will be left toppled, I assure ye.” Connor nodded, guiding a group of men with practiced efficiency.
Gracie moved among the villagers, her hands deftly handing out food with a kind word for each family.
“Here ye go, bairns,” she said, placing a bundle of bread and cheese in a mother’s arms.
One small boy tugged at her dress, looking up shyly. “Thank ye, Lady Gracie! Ye’ll be our savior!” she heard him whisper, and a warmth rose in her chest at the sight.
Jaxon approached Barnaby, who was supervising Jaxon's guards digging for the new well.
“How deep are we now?” Jaxon asked, scanning the soil turned by pick and shovel.
Barnaby wiped his hands on his sleeve and replied, “Near enough to the water table, me laird. If we keep at it a wee bit longer, we’ll strike.”
Jaxon nodded, then turned to encourage the men, “Steady now, lads! Keep yer rhythm, and ye’ll find water soon enough.”
Moments later, cheers rose from the group as water finally pooled at the bottom of the hole.
Jaxon leaned over, “Praise be, we’ve found water! Let us bless this well for the village and its folk,” he proclaimed, lifting his hand to signal a prayer.
Gracie stepped forward, her hands clasped, and spoke softly, “May this water bring life and health to all of Glenmoor, and may it never run dry for those in need.”
Connor and Barnaby took turns blessing the water with solemn nods.
The next few hours were filled with organization as Jaxon directed men to move the heaviest barrels, while Connor oversaw smaller tasks. Gracie coordinated the distribution of provisions, ensuring that no household went without.
“Make sure the children get their fair share,” she instructed, seeing a group of young ones gathered at the edge of the square. A mother approached, curtsying slightly, and whispered her thanks, her eyes misty with gratitude.
“They work well, me laird,” Connor said, a trace of pride in his voice.
Jaxon nodded, “Aye. But it is their hearts, Gracie. They see the care we give, and that inspires them.”
By evening, the work was nearly complete. Food was stored, the well blessed, and blankets and clothing distributed. Jaxon and Gracie walked through the square, checking on families and listening to their concerns.
“This village will nae want for warmth or sustenance again, nae while we are here,” Jaxon said, his tone firm yet satisfied.
“In honor of the work that has been done here, let us have a small feast of rations. We shall open a cask of wine and it will flow and warm ye as well,” Jaxon said.
The village cheered and the feast of rations began as they were careful not to overdo it with the limited supplies, but plenty of wine was to be had.
Jaxon watched the villagers gather in the square, their faces bright despite the modest fare laid out on rough-hewn tables. Bread and cheese were plentiful enough, a few small pieces of dried meat and fruit.
Cheers rang out as each villager lifted their cup, a sense of relief and celebration sweeping through the small crowd.
An hour passed as he circulated to ensure all were served, Jaxon’s attention was drawn to a commotion near the edge of the square.
Two young men, flushed with drink and jealousy, were shouting over a woman, gesturing wildly and bumping into crates of provisions. At first Jaxon chuckled, shaking his head at the foolishness of love, but the argument quickly escalated, fists flying.
Connor was at his side in an instant, gripping one man while Jaxon restrained the other, pulling them apart with firm authority.
“Ye fools!” Jaxon growled, his voice carrying over the din. “Ye think the love of a woman is won by the strength of yer arm? Nay. I’ve learned these past weeks that women have minds of their own. Let the lass choose who she will love, and the other will shake hands and be done with it!”
The men, red-faced and muttering, exchanged reluctant glances and then nodded, begrudgingly accepting his wisdom. Jaxon released them, stepping back as Connor gave a small, wry grin.
Jaxon returned to the table where Gracie was seated, her eyes sparkling as she watched him calm the quarrel.
“Ye handled that well,” she said, leaning closer, admiration evident in her voice.
Jaxon’s lips curved in a small smile. “Aye,” he admitted, “it is because of ye, lass. Ye’ve taught me much about patience, and the ways of a woman.”
Gracie reached across, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek, and Jaxon felt a warmth spread through him.
He studied her then, her hair glinting in the soft light, cheeks flushed from the brisk air and excitement of the day. A rush of affection and desire surged in him, stronger than ever before.
“Gracie,” he said softly, “come with me. Let’s take a walk before the night grows too cold.”
She nodded, sliding her hand into his, and they left the square, the village settling into quiet chatter behind them.
They strolled along the narrow path that led from the village to the edge of the hill, the soft moonlight illuminating the trees and distant hills.
“It is peaceful here,” Gracie murmured, squeezing his hand.
Jaxon’s gaze lingered on her, warmth and tenderness in his eyes. “Aye, it is,” he said, lowering his voice. “And yet, I find it more peaceful when ye are beside me.”
Gracie laughed softly, a musical sound that lifted his spirits. “Ye are too kind, Laird,” she said teasingly.
Jaxon stopped, turning to her fully. “Kindness is for ye, Gracie. Ye’ve earned every bit of it, and more,” he whispered, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
They walked in comfortable silence for a time, the soft crunch of leaves beneath their boots the only sound.
“Do ye always ken what to say?” she asked, a hint of a smile in her voice.
Jaxon chuckled, tightening his hold on her hand, “Nay, lass. But with ye, I find the words come easier than ever.”
The two paused at the crest of the hill, overlooking Glenmoor, the village.
“It is beautiful,” Gracie breathed, resting her head lightly on his shoulder.
Jaxon’s heart swelled at the sight of her admiration. “Aye,” he murmured, pulling her closer. “But nae half as beautiful as the lass beside me.”
Gracie rested her hand on his chest. “I could stay here forever,” she murmured.
Jaxon kissed the top of her head, “And I would keep ye here, lass, for as long as I may.”
At a tavern on the edges of McMillan lands, Edmund trembled in his boots.
“Where’s the coin ye owe us?” the man with the eye patch sneered at him.
“I…I will have it soon. If ye will give me more time,” Edmund said.
“We have given ye plenty of time. Ye have gambled all ye have. Me master sent me to collect from ye,” the man said.
“Tell yer master that I am on me way to me brother’s home today. He is a man of great wealth and will give me the means to pay off me debts,” Edmund said.
The man didn’t budge. Sweat dripped from Edmund’s brow into his eye. He needed a way to get out of this. He had run out of all the coin he had left home with.
Suddenly an argument broke out between two men in the corner of the tavern, drawing everyone’s attention, including the man with the eye patch. Edmund took advantage of this distraction and grabbed a mug of ale. He splashed it into the man’s one good eye, and then ran out the door.
I must return to McMillan castle.