—All I know is I don’t want to sacrifice what we have for any role—no matter how prestigious. You matter more than all the gold statues in the world.
Then he kisses me.
A kiss that holds everything we’ve struggled to say. Soft. Patient. Like he has all the time in the world to show me how he feels. So different from our first contractual kiss—and yet exactly where we were always meant to end up.
When we finally pull apart, I see it in his eyes—everything he’s never quite been able to say out loud. And I know, with a certainty that goes beyond logic, that this is where I belong. Not on a Hollywood set. Not under flashing cameras on a red carpet.
But here.
In this Scottish castle.
With this complicated, extraordinary man.
—Scorsese will have to find someone else, I say at last. I’ve got a far more important role to play here.
The smile that lights up his face is worth more than every Oscar in existence.
—Are you sure? he asks anyway.
—Absolutely, I confirm. Besides, I’ve got commitments here. There’s the annual archery championship to defend, Hamish needs someone to listen to his existential crises, and I promised Mrs. Finley I’d learn how to cook haggis.
—You know, he says with a smile, we don’t actually need to go all the way to the cabin. I think we’ve already worked everything out right here.
I grin back at him, playful.
—Are you suggesting we head back to the castle? Face the family inquisition?
—I’m suggesting we take our time getting back, he replies, pulling me into his arms again. After all, they think you won’t be back until tonight. We have the whole day ahead of us.
—I like the way you think, McGregor, I say, rising onto my toes to kiss him again. Who knew you had a rebellious streak?
—I’ll surprise you again, Carter-McGregor, he promises. We’ve got a lifetime for that.
And as we make our way toward the cabin, hand in hand beneath the shifting Highland sky, I finally feel whole.
Whatever the future holds… as long as Callum is beside me, I’m home.
EPILOGUE
JANE
If someone had told me a year ago that I’d be standing in the middle of a Scottish meadow, wearing a wedding dress with touches of tartan, surrounded by sheep (one of them particularly unhinged and named Hamish), about to renew my vows with a man I originally married for contractual reasons… I probably would’ve asked what kind of hallucinogenic cocktail they’d been drinking.
And yet, here I am.
— Hold still, Jane, or I’m going to end up stabbing you with this pin, Keira scolds as she adjusts the final details of my dress.
This time, I chose it myself—and I absolutely love it.
— Sorry, I’m just nervous, I say. Which is ridiculous, considering we’re already married. It’s not like Callum’s suddenly going to realize he made a mistake and take off running across the moors.
— No, Keira confirms with a laugh. If he were going to run, he’d at least take his Jaguar. My brother has too much class to flee on foot.
— Very reassuring, thank you.
I glance at myself in the mirror, still amazed by the transformation. My dress was custom-designed by an up-and-coming Scottish designer who captured exactly what I wanted: a piece that blends Hollywood elegance with Scottish tradition. The ivory silk hugs my curves perfectly—thank you, Mrs. Finley’s scones for my new figure—while a McGregor tartan sash is draped elegantly over one shoulder, fastened with the silver brooch I won at the archery championship.
— You look stunning, Maggie declares as she steps into the room. My grandson is going to be knocked flat.
