“Then why are ye showing me?”
The question was simple. Direct. He had been waiting for it.
Frederick looked at her fully then. She stood with wind-tossed hair, dirt on her cuff, and more hope in her face than he was entirely prepared to answer. He had thought about the words on the walk back from the stables. Adjusted them once or twice in his mind. Rejected any phrasing that sounded too grand, too ornamental, too much like something borrowed from a chapel when what he meant belonged more properly to the life they were building than to any formal prayer.
“Because I wish ye to ken it,” he said at last. “And because a man doesnae share a place like this with someone unless he means to keep them close. And because I wish for ye to use this place whenever ye wish, but only if ye promise nae to tell anyone.”
Jamie went still.
The child understood more than she ought, more than most gave her credit for. He had learned that quickly enough.
He stepped toward the bank and bent to pull a long green blade of marsh grass from the edge where it grew thicker. It came free with a soft, damp whisper, longer than his forearm, strong enough not to tear when he tested it lightly between his fingers. Jamie watched at once, all curiosity.
“What are ye doing?”
“I am going to show ye something.”
She came nearer, careful this time around the pond’s edge, and crouched when he did. Frederick folded the grass in half, then crossed one end over the other.
“At the wedding tomorrow,” he said, keeping his voice even, “yer maither and I will be bound by handfasting knot before the vows are spoken. It is old custom. Older than the kirk in some places. The knot is nae magic, whatever some fools may say. It is a promise made plain enough that every person present can see it.”
Jamie watched his hands intently. “Can I learn it?”
“Aye, lass. I will show ye.”
He guided the grass through the first loop slowly enough for her to follow, then paused and handed one end to her.
“Hold that.”
She did, tongue caught briefly at the corner of her mouth in concentration.
“This part crosses here,” he said. “Then under. Then back through.”
Jamie frowned. “That seems like cheating.”
“It is only cheating if it slips.”
“That is fair.”
He adjusted her fingers once, then let her pull the loop where it needed to go. The knot took shape between them, small and green and surprisingly neat for a first attempt. Jamie looked absurdly pleased by it.
“I did that.”
“Aye,” Frederick said. “Ye did.”
He sat back on his heels for a moment, the finished knot resting lightly across his palm. Then he looked at her again and saw, with unwelcome clarity, how much this mattered. Not because of the knot itself. Because she was waiting. Because some part of her knew he had not brought her here only for a lesson.
He chose his words with care.
“Jamie,” he said.
She straightened a little, still holding one trailing end of the grass.
“At the wedding tomorrow, I will take yer mother as me wife. But there is something else I mean to do, and I would rather ask ye plain than let it pass as though it were assumed.”
Her eyes fixed on his face.
He took the free end of the grass back and began to twist it around the knot, strengthening the small loop it had made until it resembled a simple bracelet.