What strikes me most as I step inside is the atmosphere. Not long ago, a meeting between our families would’ve been about as relaxed as a face-off between cats and dogs. Today,the conversations are easy, laughter comes naturally, and the mingling groups speak of a deep shift.
My father—typically as sociable as a bear just out of hibernation—is engaged in animated conversation with Maggie McGregor in the corner. As I pass by, I catch fragments about 1920s distillation techniques. Who would’ve thought those two would ever share anything other than mutual disdain?
A little farther on, my mother and Isobel are exchanging what appear to be photos on their phones, punctuating each swipe with amused exclamations. If I had to guess, they’re showing each other embarrassing childhood pictures of Keira and me. I make a mental note to confiscate their phones before too much damage is done.
Near the buffet, Callum and Lachlan are talking rugby and bonding over their shared disdain for the English team. They greet me with friendly nods that almost make me feel like part of the McGregor clan.
— Big day, huh? Lachlan says with a crooked grin. Ready to chain your life to our family of lunatics?
— After surviving Hamish, I think I can handle any of you, I shoot back.
— Don’t underestimate Maggie, Callum cuts in, laughing. That sheep’s an amateur compared to her.
— I can hear you perfectly well, young men, Maggie calls from across the room without even turning around.
We exchange half-amused, half-terrified glances. That woman definitely has supernatural powers.
— Where’s Keira? I ask, suddenly realizing she’s not in the room.
— In the gardens, Callum answers. She needed, and I quote, “a minute to breathe before all this madness begins.”
— Is she okay? I ask, a flicker of concern tightening my chest.
— She’s fine, he reassures me. Just a little nervous—like you. Why don’t you go join her? We’ve still got time before the lawyers arrive.
I don’t need to be told twice.
I findher near the sheep enclosure, wearing an elegant navy dress that echoes the deep tones of the McKenzie tartan. Her hair is swept up into a sophisticated bun, exposing the curve of her neck—the same neck I kissed last night as we lay beneath the stars on the castle terrace. The memory tugs a smile from me.
She doesn’t hear me approach, absorbed in watching Hamish and Rosita with their lambs.
— Do you think they understand what they’ve started? I murmur softly so I don’t startle her.
She turns toward me, her face lighting up with a smile.
— I hope not. Otherwise Hamish’s ego would be even more out of control than it already is.
I move beside her, watching the little sheep family.
— And now they’re the only ones with an official relationship and kids, I point out. We’ve got some catching up to do.
She nudges me playfully with her elbow.
— One thing at a time, McKenzie. Let’s sign the business partnership before we start talking about lambs.
— Are you nervous? I ask, catching the faint tension in her voice.
— A little, she admits. Not about the partnership—I know it’s the right decision. But all of this… it’s huge. Our families together, generations of rivalry fading away, your father finally looking at me without wanting to turn me to stone…
— He likes you, you know. In his own way. Yesterday he said you had a remarkable analytical mind—for someone interested in history.
— Coming from Malcolm McKenzie, that’s practically a love declaration, she laughs.
— He’ll like you even more with time. My mother already adores you, which is a miracle in itself. She’s never liked any of my girlfriends.
— I’m not your girlfriend, she reminds me with a teasing smile. I’m your fake fiancée.
— Right. I keep forgetting. This situation is getting confusing.
