“Nay,” Iona answered softly.
Jamie studied them both once more, then sighed with the grave resignation only children and very old men seemed able to summon over matters they did not approve of.
“Well,” she said, “someone should stop it.”
Lennox, standing near the horses, turned his head sharply away in what was very clearly an attempt not to laugh. Archer, who had arrived earlier than courtesy strictly required and now waited near the gate with all the composed patience of a manaccustomed to other people’s households, looked faintly amused himself.
Erin stepped forward before either parent could answer.
“Here,” she said to Iona, drawing something from within the folds of her shawl.
It was a small amulet, wrapped in faded thread and leather, no grand piece of ornament but something older-looking, worn smooth by time and handling.
Iona took it carefully. “What is this?”
“A thing ye will wear and nae question,” Erin replied.
Frederick watched as the old healer tied it around Iona’s wrist with fingers that were steadier than they had been the day before. Her mouth moved under her breath, Gaelic low and quiet, some blessing or warning or both. When she finished, she looked at Iona with unusual seriousness.
“Keep it on,” she said.
Iona glanced down at it, then back up. “Aye.”
Caitlin came next, gathering Jamie briefly to her side before looking to Frederick and Iona both. “I will keep everything in order here.”
That was directed toward Frederick, though there was warmth enough in it for them both.
“And by everything,” Lennox muttered, not quite softly enough, “she means the keep, the child, the servants, and likely me as well.”
Caitlin did not even turn toward him. “Aye.”
That earned a quiet snort from Erin.
Frederick rose at last, the moment for leaving narrowing around them, whether he liked it or not. Jamie came forward without prompting and hugged him tightly around the middle. He held her in return, one hand brushing gently over the back of her head.
“Mind Hamish,” he said quietly.
“I will!” Jamie said into his coat.
“Aye,” he replied. “Me daughter is nae to be made a fool by a horse.”
She pulled back and nodded solemnly. “I willnae.”
When Iona bent to embrace her next, Jamie held on a little longer, and when she finally stepped away, her eyes moved oncemore between them both with that same troubled little crease between her brows.
Frederick mounted first. Archer and Lennox followed. Iona accepted Frederick’s hand to settle into the saddle beside him when the path narrowed after the first stretch of road, though she thanked him with such measured politeness that he nearly wished she had refused instead.
They rode out under a sky still pale at the edges, the keep falling slowly behind them.
The first stretch of the journey passed in relative silence, broken only by the ordinary sounds of travel. Hooves striking packed earth. Leather shifting. A bird startled from the hedgerow. Archer kept a steady pace a little ahead and to the side, while Lennox seemed to have decided that if the air could not be eased, it could at least be filled.
“I still say,” Lennox remarked after some miles, “that if O’Douglas serves anything less than decent whisky after dragging us all there, I shall take it as a personal insult.”
Archer looked back over his shoulder. “Then I advise ye to prepare for nay insult at all. We do at least that much properly.”
“That is reassuring,” Lennox said. “I was beginning to fear your famed charm was merely a cover for poor hospitality.”
“It is a cover for many things,” Archer replied. “Poor hospitality is nae among them.”