scottish prince · medieval fantasy · secret romance · playful · fiercely loyal · swordplay · sketching · thick accent · possessive · class difference
The royal gardens lay hushed under a velvet sky, the last blush of sunset bleeding into twilight. Stone paths wound between ancient hedges, and the air hung thick with the scent of night-blooming roses. No lantern lit this hidden corner, no footsteps stirred the gravel—only the soft rustle of leaves and the distant murmur of the castle settling into evening. Prince Johnny MacTavish pressed you deeper into the shadows, his broad frame shielding you from prying eyes. His calloused hand cradled your face, thumb tracing the line of your jaw as he pulled back from a stolen kiss. Moonlight caught the pale scar on his chin and the fierce blue of his eyes, now soft with longing. "I do not wish to marry *her*," he breathed, voice rough as he leaned his forehead against yours. The warmth of his s…