Chapter 27 #2
— Really? I have a hard time picturing Heather or Isobel doing archery.
— You’d be surprised, he says with a grin. Isobel was a regional champion in her youth. And Callum’s grandmother? I’d bet she could still hit an apple from fifty yards.
That revelation surprises me—and makes me see these women in a whole new light. Maybe beneath their polished, traditional appearances are Scottish versions of Wonder Woman.
Ewan leads me to the archery range, where several targets are set up at different distances.
I notice Heather already there, bow in hand, posed like she’s starring in a luxury ad campaign.
Of course she does archery. Probably since she was three, raised by professional archers and blessed by Cupid himself.
— Oh, Jane! she exclaims with fake surprise. You’re going to try archery? How… brave of you.
Her tone suggests she finds it more ridiculous than brave. I’m pretty sure she’d react the same way if I announced I was about to juggle flaming chainsaws (real ones, not the plastic movie prop kind).
— Indeed, Heather, I reply with an equally fake smile. I’m trying to fully embrace the family culture.
— Admirable, truly, she says, drawing her bow with the ease of someone who’s trained for years.
She releases, and her arrow lands just shy of the center. Polite applause follows.
— I was fortunate to train with the best instructors in the country, she adds, as if I’d asked. My father always emphasized the importance of traditional arts.
— How fortunate, I reply, trying not to show my growing nerves.
Ewan hands me a smaller bow than Heather’s, but it still feels intimidating.
— Don’t worry, he murmurs. Archery isn’t about strength—it’s about precision and focus.
— Two things I’ve never claimed to have, I whisper back.
— You might surprise yourself, he says, positioning my hands. Sometimes talent shows up when you least expect it.
I notice Callum has moved closer, watching us with an unreadable expression. He stands a few feet away, arms crossed, his gaze flicking between Ewan and me with unusual intensity.
— Now, Ewan says, stepping behind me to adjust my stance, keep your arm straight—but not rigid. Breathe deeply and focus on the target.
I feel his hands on my shoulders, guiding me patiently—and out of the corner of my eye, I see Callum tense.
Is my stoic Scottish husband… jealous? The thought distracts me for a split second, but I shake it off.
One thing at a time: first, don’t humiliate myself at archery. Then, analyze my husband’s psychology.
— Exhale slowly and release, Ewan continues.
I do, fully expecting the arrow to shoot off in some completely random direction—possibly backward, given my luck today. But to my shock, it flies straight and lands one ring away from the center.
A stunned silence falls, quickly followed by enthusiastic applause. I stand frozen, as shocked as if I’d just seen Hamish recite Shakespeare.
— Not bad at all! Ewan exclaims, clearly impressed. You sure you’ve never done this before?
— Absolutely sure, I say, still stunned. Unless glaring at producers counts.
— Try again, he urges, handing me another arrow.
I do—this time with a little more confidence. The arrow flies and lands even closer to the center. The applause grows louder.
— I think we’ve found your sport, Jane! Keira calls, stepping closer.
Heather watches, her expression tightening despite her attempt to stay composed. Clearly, my unexpected success wasn’t part of her “let’s publicly humiliate Jane” script.
— Beginner’s luck, she comments with a strained laugh. It’s often like that—you get lucky at first, then you realize how difficult it really is.
— Shoot again, Jane, Maggie says suddenly, having approached quietly. Let’s see if it’s really luck.
Something in her tone tells me she’s backing me against Heather. I nod, and with a newfound confidence, I nock a third arrow. This time, I focus completely, letting everything else fade away. I breathe, aim, and release.
The arrow cuts through the air and lands dead center with a sharp, satisfying sound.
A collective murmur ripples through the crowd.
— Bloody hell, she’s got talent! someone exclaims.
I turn to Heather, unable to resist.
— You’re right, Heather, I say sweetly. It’s much harder than it looks. I suppose I still have a lot to learn.
Callum steps forward, pride lighting his face.
— Impressive, Jane, he says, resting a hand on my shoulder. I think the McGregor family may have found its new archery champion.
— I think that’s a bit premature, Heather interjects, trying to downplay it. The family championship requires consistency across multiple distances and bows.
— Then sign Jane up for the championship, Maggie declares, her tone leaving no room for argument. I’d be curious to see how she does.
— I’m sorry—what? I squeak, caught completely off guard.
— The family archery championship, Callum murmurs near my ear. It’s one of the final events today. My mother usually wins—ever since my grandmother stepped aside for the younger generation.
— And now you want me to compete against your mother? I whisper, horrified. The same woman who still occasionally looks at me like I’m a genetic mistake?
— It would be an excellent way to integrate you, he says with a smile that feels suspiciously enthusiastic. And you seem to have a real gift.
— Three lucky shots do not make me an archer, I protest.
— Then five more should settle it, Ewan cuts in, eyes gleaming mischievously.
Before I can argue, I’m dragged into a series of additional shots. To everyone’s surprise—mine most of all—I hit each one with remarkable precision. It’s like the bow and arrows are extensions of my body, like I’ve been doing this my whole life.
By the time I finish, a small crowd has gathered. Even Isobel looks impressed—though she tries to hide it.
— It seems my daughter-in-law has hidden talents, she remarks, something close to approval in her voice.
— It seems so, Heather agrees, her smile tight. What a surprise.
I can’t help savoring her discomfort. For the first time since arriving in Scotland, I feel like I might actually belong among the McGregors.
— So, it’s settled? Maggie claps her hands. Jane will compete in the family championship?
— Wait, I say, suddenly nervous. I’m not sure that’s a good idea. It’s a family tradition, and I’m still new here.
— All the more reason to take part, Maggie declares. Newcomers embrace traditions—they don’t avoid them.
— But—
— It’s decided, she cuts in firmly. The championship starts at five. Ewan, keep training our rising star.
As the crowd disperses, I turn to Callum, searching for backup.
— You’re not seriously going to make me compete, are you? Against your mother, who’s probably been doing this since she could walk?
He shrugs, a faint smile on his lips.
— You know my grandmother by now. No one forces anyone to do anything here. She strongly suggests—and everyone obeys.
— Wonderful, I groan. I’m going to humiliate myself in front of your entire family. Again.
— I don’t think so, he says, looking at me with an intensity that sends a shiver through me. You have a real talent for archery, Jane. And even if you don’t win, the fact that you’re participating means a lot.
— To whom? Your grandmother? Your mother?
— To me, he says simply. And to you, I think.
His words hit deeper than I expect. He’s right. No matter the outcome, stepping into this family tradition is a statement in itself. I’m showing I’m willing to embrace their culture, their customs—their world.
— Fine, I concede at last. But if I make a fool of myself, I’m going to spend the next month reminding you this was your idea.
— Deal, he says with a smile that melts me. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need a word with my best friend.
He turns to Ewan with an expression I can’t quite read. The two of them walk off, launching into what looks like a fairly animated discussion.
Keira slips in beside me.
— So, how are you feeling, Robin Hood? she asks with a wink.
— Like someone who accidentally wandered onto a movie set without reading the script, I reply, watching Callum and Ewan. What do you think they’re talking about?
Keira follows my gaze and bursts out laughing.
— Oh, it’s obvious. My dear brother is politely—but firmly—explaining to his best friend that he didn’t appreciate the way he was touching you during archery practice.
— What? I squeak. You’re kidding.
— Not at all. Callum might look like Mister Self-Control, but he can be very possessive. I’ve never seen him jealous before—it’s fascinating.
I study the two men, and now that she’s pointed it out, I do notice the tension in Callum’s shoulders, the way he’s standing a little straighter than usual, that small crease between his brows when he’s irritated.
— He has no reason to be jealous, I say, even as the thought secretly pleases me.
— Of course not, Keira agrees. Ewan is friendly and touchy with everyone. But it’s a good sign, you know.
— What is?
— That Callum is jealous. It proves that whatever is happening between you isn’t just a practical arrangement like some people think.
I turn to her, alarmed.
— What do you mean—some people?
Keira suddenly looks like she might have said too much.
— Oh, nothing important. You know how small communities are—rumors spread, people speculate…
— Keira, I cut in firmly. Tell me everything.
She sighs.
— Okay. Heather has been suggesting to a few people that your marriage to Callum might be more strategic than romantic. A mutually beneficial arrangement, basically.
My blood runs cold. Our worst fear is confirmed—Heather is actively planting doubts about the legitimacy of our marriage.
— And people believe her? I ask, trying to mask my concern.
— Some, maybe. But after today? I think a lot fewer will. The way Callum looks at you, the way he supports you—and now this obvious jealousy. That’s not how a man in a convenience marriage behaves.
She’s right, and the realization warms something deep inside me. What we have has grown far beyond the cold terms of our original contract. What started as a transaction has become something real—something deeper—even if neither of us has quite found the words for it yet.
— Then it’s time I show everyone I’m a real McGregor, I say, a new determination settling in. Including your mother. And Miss Perfect.
— That’s the spirit! Keira cheers, giving me an enthusiastic pat on the back. Now come on—let’s go rescue your coach before my brother strangles him with a bowstring.
I glance over at Callum and Ewan, arguing like a pair of teenagers, and I can’t help but smile.
Maybe, in the end, I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.