“Just the trigger,” she added.
He stilled. “Explain.”
She shook her head, turning slightly away from him, as if the movement might steady her thoughts. The events of the night crashed back into her mind in jagged flashes. Blood on leaves. Steel flashing under moonlight. Jamie standing too still behind her.
“I made a mistake,” she said instead, voice softer than she intended. “I thought… if I kept moving, if I kept ahead of whatever was chasing me, it would be enough.”
“And do ye think it was? Enough?” he asked.
“Nay,” she admitted.
The word tasted bitter.
She leaned her hands against the edge of the table, staring down at the faint scratches carved into the wood over years of use. “I put me child in danger tonight,” she continued. “Because I didnae think things through. Because I assumed I kent better than anyone else.”
He watched her carefully, the intensity of his gaze almost tangible.
“What are ye running from, Iona?” he asked.
She let out a breath that trembled at the edges. “Something that doesnae and willnae stop.”
His silence told her he would not accept that as a full answer.
She turned back to him, lifting her chin. “Ye said ye would take us to yer castle.”
“Aye.”
“We will come,” she said.
Relief flickered briefly in his expression before settling back into that controlled calm he wore like armor.
“But I have one condition.”
His mouth curved faintly. “I expected as much.”
“Erin comes with us.”
He blinked, surprised.
“She took us in when no one else would,” Iona continued. “I willnae leave her behind, especially now. Those men… they kent where to look. If I am the reason danger comes here, then she comes with me. I have to ken that she is safe too.”
Frederick’s eyes followed her movements for a long moment, weighing the request. She could almost see the calculations moving behind his eyes, the laird measuring risks and benefits.
At last he nodded once. “She is welcome at the castle.”
The tension that had coiled in her chest eased just slightly.
“Thank ye,” she said.
He inclined his head. “I will return in the morning. Be ready.”
The words were purely practical. It was as if the charged moment between them moments ago had never existed. He stepped toward the door, reaching for his cloak.
Iona watched him in nearly stunned silence, a strange frustration rising beneath her ribs. A moment ago, the air had felt alive, heavy with memory and possibility. Now he moved like a stranger again, all duty and distance.
“Frederick,” she said before she could stop herself.
He paused, looking back over his shoulder.