EPILOGUE
A FEW WEEKS LATER
“Aye, it is exactly as I remembered it.”
Frederick glanced toward his sister as Ariella stepped more carefully than gracefully over a patch of uneven ground, one hand braced at the small of her back while Maxwell hovered near enough to catch her if the wind changed direction too sharply. She had not lost any of her sharpness merely because she now carried a babe in one arm and looked half a breath away from ordering everyone around her into more sensible positions.
“I should hope so,” Frederick said. “The land has nae moved.”
“It could have,” Ariella replied. “A great many things seem capable of doing precisely what they ought not when men are involved.”
Maxwell adjusted the blanket folded over his shoulder and looked toward the rise above the loch with open approval. “It is good ground.”
“Aye,” Frederick said.
It was more than good. That was the truth of it. The land stretched open and gentle between the castle road and the water, wide enough for a house, a small garden, a stable if needed, and whatever else might grow beside it in years to come. The loch below lay silver-blue beneath the late afternoon light, still in some places, rippling in others where the breeze touched it. To one side, a line of birch trees bent softly toward the shore. To the other, the rise gave shelter enough that winter winds would strike less cruelly than they might elsewhere.
He had chosen the place carefully.
Now that they all stood within it, with blankets laid and food unpacked and the sound of familiar voices carrying over the grass, it felt less like land and more like a promise given shape.
Jamie was already halfway to the water before Iona called the child back.
“Nae so fast,” she said, one hand shading her eyes against the sun. “Ye nearly rolled down the hill the last time.”
“I did nae roll,” Jamie protested, turning in place with the offended dignity only a six-year-old could summon. “I took to the hill gracefully.”
Lennox, who had just accepted a basket from one of the servants, snorted aloud. “That sounds rehearsed.”
“Itsoundsinherited,” Caitlin countered in jest.
She stood a little apart from the others with a parasol she did not truly need, her expression composed despite the undeniable pleasure brightening it. Lennox leaned toward her then, saying something too low for the rest of them to catch. Whatever it was, Caitlin’s brows rose, and she angled her head toward him with the unmistakable look of a woman entertaining a dangerous idea on purpose.
Frederick narrowed his eyes slightly.
He did not trust any expression shared between those two in private.
Erin, meanwhile, had already wandered to the edge of the plot nearest the trees, her staff sinking lightly into the grass as she walked. She bent once, scooped up a pinch of earth, and rubbed it thoughtfully between finger and thumb before muttering something in Gaelic too low and too old-sounding for anyone else to interrupt. The wind shifted around her shawl as though in answer.
“She is blessing it,” Iona said quietly at his side.
Frederick looked toward the old healer. “Aye.”
“Do ye ken what she is saying?”
“Nay,” he admitted. “And I suspect she prefers it that way.”
Iona smiled faintly at that, then slipped her hand into his with the easy familiarity that still occasionally caught him unaware. A few weeks had passed since the night at the hunting lodge, and still, there were moments when he felt the shape of his life as it now stood and found himself surprised by how much richer it had become simply because she was in it without fear.
Ariella came nearer then, carrying her babe with one arm and making Maxwell carry the rest of the burden without apology. The child was wrapped in a pale blanket, dark hair already visible beneath the edge of the cap despite Caitlin’s insistence that no infant ought to be brought near open air without proper covering.
“This is the famous spot, then?” Ariella asked.
Frederick nodded. “It is.”
She looked past him toward the loch and let out a soft breath. “I can see why ye chose it.”
Maxwell adjusted the basket in his hand and added, “It would take a fool to build elsewhere.”