The vendor lifted it carefully. “A fine choice. Silver, good clasp, sturdy enough for wear and still pretty enough to turn a head.”
Frederick took it in hand. It was lighter than he had expected. The stone caught the light in a quiet way that reminded him, absurdly enough, of Iona’s eyes when sunlight found them.
“It will do,” he said.
The vendor smiled as he began to wrap it. “So ye are finally getting married, then?”
Frederick looked up.
The man’s expression remained harmlessly curious, though there was laughter at the edges of it.
“I said nay such thing.”
“Nay,” the vendor replied. “But men daenae stand looking at bracelets like that unless they have something to prove or someone to impress.”
Frederick held out a coin. “Perhaps I am only buying jewelry.”
“Aye,” the man said, accepting it. “And I am only standing in a market.”
There was no missing it then. The village had begun to listen.
A woman at the ribbon stall to the left had gone very still with a length of lace in her hands. A cooper across the lane seemed deeply invested in hammering a barrel hoop that did not currently require the effort. Two girls near the baker’s window bent toward one another without any attempt at subtlety.
Frederick felt the first stirrings of regret.
The vendor tied the packet neatly and handed it over. “Well. Who is the special lass, then?”
Frederick should have refused to answer. He knew that. He also knew that silence in a village such as this would only breed ten worse stories before supper.
Her name came anyway.
“Iona.”
The vendor’s brows rose. “Iona. A bonnie name indeed, me laird.”
“Iona,” said a soft voice behind him. “What a beautiful name.”
Frederick turned at once.
The woman standing a few paces back was too finely dressed to belong to the ordinary run of village life. Her gown was elegant without being ostentatious, her cloak of excellent quality, her posture upright in the manner of one long accustomed to deference. She was no young bride. There were lines at her eyes and mouth, and yet nothing in her suggested frailty. Her gaze rested on him with open interest and not the least bit of shame for having overheard.
Frederick’s expression cooled slightly. “And who might ye be?”
The woman inclined her head with flawless composure. “Noor Burnett. I ken yer maither.”
He frowned at once.
Noor Burnett— What are ye doin’ here?
She noticed.
“Aye,” she said gently. “That look is fair. I should have sent word before coming upon yer lands, and I should certainlyhave introduced myself before speaking out of turn. I meant no disrespect, me laird.”
Frederick did not answer immediately. MacFarlane was now tied by marriage to O’Douglas from what Lennox told him, and that alone was enough to sharpen caution.
“What brings ye here, Lady MacFarlane?” He asked plainly.
A smile touched her mouth, strangely warm. “I was looking for something.”