Chapter 6 #2
“Semi-formal? In a castle? What does that even mean?”
“No jeans,” Callum translates. “A simple dress will do.”
Jamison stops at a heavy wooden door and opens it with quiet ceremony. “Welcome, Miss.”
I step inside—and freeze.
The room is stunning. A massive bedroom with a four-poster bed big enough to host a basketball team, tall arched windows overlooking the rolling hills, antique furniture worth more than everything I own combined.
And one bed.
One very large, very singular bed.
I go still as the implication sinks in. Callum and I are sharing this room. This bed.
He notices my expression and clears his throat. “Thank you, Jamison. That will be all.”
The butler nods and exits.
“Don’t worry,” Callum says immediately. “I’ll take the couch.”
I glance at the couch—beautiful, but absolutely not designed for a man his size.
“That’s ridiculous. You’ll break your back.”
“It’s temporary. Just for the wedding and a few days after. To keep up appearances. Then I’ll claim late work hours and move to another room.”
I scan the space and spot a door. “And that?”
“Dressing room. There’s an en-suite bathroom beyond it.”
I sit on the edge of the bed, suddenly exhausted. “Your grandmother is… intense.”
Callum smiles faintly. “You handled her well. She let you call her Maggie on the first meeting. It took my mother six months.”
“That’s supposed to reassure me?”
“She’s watching you. Deciding if you’re sincere. If you’re worthy of the McGregor name.”
I look up at him, genuinely worried. “What if I’m not? What if I mess up the dance or butcher the Gaelic?”
“Jane, you’re a professional actress. You’ve memorized entire scripts. A few Gaelic words won’t defeat you.”
“But I’ve never played a role this important.”
He sits beside me. “You’re not alone in this. I’ll be there every step of the way.”
There’s something in his voice—something softer than usual—that steadies me.
“Okay. But if I completely crash and burn, you’re saving me.”
“Deal.”
We sit there for a moment, taking in the room. Dark wood paneling, aged with time. A carved stone fireplace casting flickering shadows across a thick, plush rug. Exposed beams overhead. The air carries the faint scent of cedar and smoke—strangely comforting.
My gaze drifts back to the bed. Massive. Draped in white linen, embroidered with Celtic patterns. The carved posts tell stories I can’t quite decipher.
“It’s incredible,” I murmur.
“It is,” Callum agrees. “One of the oldest rooms in the castle. My grandmother likes to say an ancestor signed an important treaty here—or hid in it after losing a battle. Depends on her mood.”
I smile softly, but the weight of history in this place is undeniable.
“And that wardrobe?” I ask, pointing.
“Hand-carved. It belonged to my great-great-grandfather. Legend says he hid love letters in it for a woman he was never allowed to marry.”
I walk over, brushing my fingers along the polished wood, imagining the secrets hidden in these walls.
“Your ancestors built something remarkable.”
“They built something freezing,” he laughs. “You’ll understand in winter.”
I smile, still absorbing everything. This isn’t just a room—it’s a time capsule. And somehow, I’m part of its story now.
I move to the window, peering out at the misty hills.
“Is that a sheep in your garden?”
Callum joins me. “Ah—Hamish. Our semi-domesticated sheep. He has a habit of escaping.”
“You have a pet sheep named Hamish?”
“Not exactly a pet. He has… a special status.”
I watch the woolly creature peacefully munching on rose bushes.
“I should warn you,” Callum adds, “he has a temper.”
“A sheep with attitude. Why am I not surprised in this family?”
He laughs—a rare, warm sound. “You’re starting to understand the McGregors.”
A knock interrupts us. Keira bursts in without waiting, holding a box.
“I figured you’d want this immediately,” she says, handing it to me. “Consider it a preemptive welcome gift.”
I open it to find a pair of dark green rain boots.
“Rain boots?”
“Wellies,” she corrects. “Essential for survival here. And far more stylish than Callum’s.”
I grin. “Thank you. They’re perfect.”
“I knew you’d get it. Now rest while you can. Dinner’s going to be… lively.”
After she leaves, I turn to Callum. “What does ‘lively’ mean?”
“Our mother will be there. And probably my cousin Lachlan.”
“The one who inherits the company if we don’t get married?”
“The very one.”
“Fantastic. More people to convince,” I mutter.
I stare up at the coffered ceiling. “So just to be clear—within a few hours, I’ll be having a semi-formal dinner with your skeptical grandmother, your mother, your rival cousin, and a room full of people judging whether I’m worthy of being a McGregor.
All after a transatlantic flight and knowing absolutely nothing about Scottish traditions. ”
“That’s about right.”
I close my eyes, fighting off a nervous laugh. “You know what? In my movies, this is exactly where the heroine makes a catastrophic mistake that ruins everything.”
Callum steps closer—and to my surprise, takes my hand.
“Then we’ll make sure reality does better than fiction.”
I look at him, caught off guard by the warmth in his touch—and the sincerity in his eyes.
“Okay,” I say softly. “But I’m still going to need a drink before dinner.”
“You’re in the right country for that,” he replies with a hint of a smile.
When he leaves the room, that smile lingers—almost tender.
No. That has to be jet lag messing with me.
I close my eyes, bracing myself for the evening ahead.
I’m Jane Carter. Professional actress. I can play the role of a woman in love with a stoic Scottish man she’s about to marry in three days.
How hard can it be?
Right?