Tension spikes?—
Then Fiona bursts out laughing.
“She’s perfect,” she declares. “Exactly what this family needs.”
“Quality doesn’t need outside validation,” Ian mutters.
“Innovation does,” Moira counters. “Which is why someone like Keira could be valuable.”
I start to see the lines—tradition versus change, control versus evolution. And right in the middle… Alistair.
“Tell me, Keira,” Douglas says suddenly, “do you know the story of the Golden Thistle?”
“The curling trophy?” I ask?—
Too late.
His face darkens.
“The trophy stolen by McGregor treachery.”
“Great-uncle—” Alistair starts.
“Your future father-in-law distracted our thrower by asking about his dead mother!”
I blink. “My father would never?—”
“It doesn’t matter,” Mary cuts in smoothly. “That’s the past.”
Her glance at Malcolm is pointed.
“More pressing matters,” he agrees. “Such as where you plan to live after the wedding.”
I hesitate.
“We haven’t decided,” I admit.
“We’re looking for something that suits us both,” Alistair adds, his hand settling over mine. “Somewhere between our family lands.”
“The south parcel, perhaps?” Malcolm suggests.
There it is.
“It belongs to the McGregors,” I say calmly. “And it’s not for sale.”
“It could be a wedding gift,” he presses. “A symbol of reconciliation.”
“Father,” Alistair says firmly, “we’ll make our own decisions.”
I glance at him, surprised—and grateful.
“Our relationship isn’t a Trojan horse for business,” I add.
Catriona whistles softly. “She figured you out in under an hour. Impressive.”
Malcolm studies me differently now—not as a curiosity, but as an equal opponent.
“Do you play chess, Miss McGregor?”
