Chapter 24
JANE
I retreat to the castle library, a vast room lined with ancient books that smell of worn leather and aged paper.
Over the past few weeks, it’s become my sanctuary—a place where I can finally be myself without performing, without pretending.
Leaning back against one of the towering shelves, I close my eyes and draw in a slow, steady breath.
Why am I so shaken? This marriage is nothing more than an arrangement, a contract.
Callum could have shared a hundred romantic picnics with Heather, and it shouldn’t affect me in the slightest.
But it does. Far more than I’m willing to admit.
The door creaks open, and I straighten, bracing myself to face Heather or Isobel. Instead, Callum steps inside. The unreadable look on his face sends a ripple of unease through me.
— I’ve been looking everywhere for you, he says, walking toward me.
— Sorry for running off like that, I reply, folding my arms as if I can build an invisible wall between us. I wasn’t exactly in the mood for another stroll down memory lane with Lady Perfect.
A fleeting smile crosses his face.
— You noticed too, huh?
— Hard to miss her “Let’s reminisce about all the wonderful moments with Callum that Jane will never share” festival. Very enlightening.
He sighs, dragging a hand through his hair.
— Heather’s always been possessive.
— Possessive? That’s a generous way of putting it. I half expected her to start marking her territory around you.
A short, genuine laugh escapes him, easing the tension just a little.
— She didn’t need to, he replies. The constant references to our shared past did the job just fine.
— So you admit she was trying to make me uncomfortable?
— Absolutely, he says without hesitation. Heather never does anything by accident. Every word, every gesture is calculated.
I study him, caught off guard by his honesty.
— Why is she really here, Callum?
He exhales again and moves to sit on the edge of a nearby table, close enough that I’m suddenly hyper-aware of him.
— My mother probably hinted that our marriage was rushed. Knowing Heather, she saw an opportunity.
— An opportunity for what? To win back your broken heart?
My voice comes out sharper than I intended, and I curse myself for it.
Callum watches me for a beat before answering.
— Heather isn’t interested in my heart, Jane. She’s interested in my position, my name—what being a McGregor represents. What we had was always more practical than emotional.
— Like us, then, I murmur, unable to stop the words from slipping out.
Something flickers across his face—something I can’t quite read.
— It’s not the same.
— No? A mutually beneficial arrangement? Sounds pretty similar to me.
— Ours is honest. Heather and I pretended to be something we weren’t.
I blink, surprised by the admission.
— Like we pretend to be in love?
— It’s different, he insists, pushing to his feet and stepping closer to me. We were clear from the beginning about the terms of our agreement. With Heather, we were playing at being the perfect couple, but there was never any… any…
He trails off, searching for the right word.
— Any what? I ask, my heartbeat picking up.
— Honesty, he finally says. You and I might be in an arranged marriage, but at least we’re honest with each other.
But are we, really? Am I being honest about what I’m starting to feel? Is he?
The library door opens again, and Heather appears, her timing—as always—flawless.
— Ah, there you both are, she says with a carefully measured smile. I was wondering where you’d disappeared to.
Her eyes sweep over us, no doubt taking in our closeness, the intensity of our conversation.
— Sorry to interrupt, she continues. Callum, darling, could I steal a few minutes? I’d love to show you the restoration plans for the museum.
Her gaze shifts to me.
— Dreadfully dull matters, Jane. I’m sure you’d prefer to keep yourself occupied…
— Actually, Callum cuts in before I can speak, my wife is usually included in all my business discussions.
The word “wife” echoes through the room like a declaration.
— Oh? Heather says, her smile faltering just slightly. Even when it concerns Scottish heritage? I assumed that was still unfamiliar territory for her.
— Jane adapts quickly, Callum replies, stepping closer to me. And her outside perspective is often valuable.
I glance at him, stunned by this unexpected show of support. A few weeks ago, he would never have included me in a professional conversation.
Heather watches us closely, her gaze flicking from one to the other, calculating.
— Hmm. Interesting. I suppose some marital arrangements can be… surprising.
The word “arrangements” lands between us like a ticking bomb. Does she know? Has she figured out the truth about our marriage?
— What do you mean? Callum asks, his voice turning cold.
Heather lifts a shoulder in an elegant shrug.
— Simply that modern marriages take many forms. Some people marry for love… others for different considerations.
— And what considerations do you imagine for us, Heather? I press, suddenly deciding to confront the serpent in stilettos head-on.
She meets my gaze without flinching, her smile now unmistakably predatory.
— Oh, I don’t know… An actress whose career is faltering after a scandal, an heir who needs a wife to satisfy certain conditions in a will… There are so many possibilities, aren’t there?
Ice floods my veins. She knows—or at least, she suspects the truth.
— You’re going too far, Heather, Callum warns.
— Am I? she replies with feigned innocence. I’m only pointing out the facts. You and Jane married so quickly, against your family’s wishes…
Panic curls tight in my chest. If Heather exposes our arrangement in front of Isobel—or anyone else—everything we’ve built will come crashing down.
— Our marriage is not up for speculation, Callum says, his authority catching me off guard. Jane is my wife. There’s nothing more to add.