“That was nearly flattering,” Ariella told him.
Frederick merely winked over at his sister and chuckled.
His niece was now only a few weeks old and still possessing the solemn, perplexed expression of all very young infants, made asmall protesting noise at being jostled. Ariella looked down at once and softened visibly.
“There now, sweet one,” she murmured. “Nay one is asking yer opinion yet.”
Jamie had reached them by then, slowed only slightly by curiosity. She peered up at the bundle in Ariella’s arms as though the baby might suddenly begin speaking if observed long enough.
“Is she still very small?” Jamie asked.
“Aye,” Ariella said. “Though she already believes herself important.”
“That sounds like this family,” Lennox muttered from behind Caitlin.
Caitlin did not even glance at him. “We are important.”
The picnic Frederick had ordered was spread gradually over the blankets while the light remained kind. Bread, cheese, cold roasted meats, apples, berries, and sweet cakes Jamie had already spotted and been denied twice before the meal had properly begun. The servants withdrew after setting the final basket down, leaving the family and their closest companions alone with the land and the hour.
That had been deliberate as well because Frederick had wanted privacy for this.
He watched Jamie as she crouched near the edge of the largest blanket, arranging pebbles beside one another in some private system known only to herself. Her hair had grown longer now, enough that it caught the sunlight in soft brown-gold strands where the old white streak at Frederick’s own temple had begun to show itself in her more clearly. Every time he looked at her, the feeling returned. Wonder first. Then gratitude. Then the old ache of everything they had nearly lost.
He glanced at Iona.
She did not know yet what this ground was to be truly for, and what this afternoon was. They had spoken of the possibility. Circled it from different sides. And then Frederick had deliberately let the conversation die out, in hopes of making today a surprise for her.
It had been secret planning, approvals, and correspondence that he had kept hidden from her. Waiting for the perfect time.
Now the ground felt steady, but first, he knew they had to settle things with Jamie before he could announce to his family what they were truly doing out here on this undeveloped plot of land.
Frederick crouched beside Jamie. “Come here, lass.”
She looked up immediately, suspicious only because his voice had turned more serious than usual. “Am I in trouble?”
“Nay.”
“Then why are ye saying it like that?”
Iona came down beside them before he could answer, settling in the grass with her skirts gathered neatly and her eyes on their daughter rather than on him. That was for the best. He found himself wanting Iona too much, still, whenever she looked at him with that quiet trust in her face.
“We wished to speak with ye,” Iona said gently.
Jamie looked from one parent to the other, then abandoned the pebbles with unusual promptness. “About what?”
Frederick sat on the grass rather than standing over her. He had no wish to make the moment feel like a judgment. “About the years before ye remember them clearly.”
Jamie’s expression changed at once, not into fear, but into that serious listening face she had when something mattered.
“You have kent for a while,” Iona said, “that I kept ye hidden.”
Jamie nodded.
“And that I was running from someone bad,” she added quietly.
“Aye,” Frederick said. “That part is true.”
Jamie folded her hands into her lap. “Was it Lady Noor?”