“Frederick… Fred-er-ick,” she repeated.
She watched as his eyes fell to her lips as she tested the shape of his name.
Later, she would struggle to remember who stood first. One moment, they sat by the hearth, the next she was climbing the narrow stairs ahead of him toward the room he had paid for.
She felt his fingers close gently around her skirts as if asking permission without words. The slight tugging sensation sent a slow shiver up her spine.
His gaze was on her back as they reached the landing, heavy and deliberate, and when she glanced over her shoulder, his eyes were dark, not with drunken haze alone but with a hunger that made her breath catch and her steps faltered for half a heartbeat before she pushed the door open.
The door shut behind them. Candlelight flickered across the small chamber.
She laughed softly, nerves and anticipation tangled together. “If this is madness, at least it is warm madness.”
He watched her with an intensity that stole her breath. “Ye can change yer mind.”
“Nay,” she whispered, surprising herself with the certainty in her voice.
The night blurred into warmth and whispered laughter. His touch was careful at first, and she found herself guiding him closer, teasing him for his hesitation. The world beyond the walls faded away. There was only heat, the steady rhythm of his breathing, and a rare sense of safety she had never known.
It was not about promises or futures. It was simply a moment stolen from fate.
As they lay together, tangled together beneath rough wool blankets, she drifted into sleep first with her cheek pressed to his chest, listening to the slow thud of his heart.
Iona woke first. Just as the pale blue light of the morning crept through the shutters.
Frederick’s arm was wrapped around her waist, his hand resting possessively against her side even in sleep. His face looked younger without the tension that usually carved his features. A lock of dark hair fell across his brow, the pale streak catching the sun.
She lay still, watching him.
For one irrational heartbeat, she felt safer than she ever had in her life.
I could stay, a reckless voice whispered inside her.
She closed her eyes tightly.Nay. Staying meant being found. Staying meant bringing danger to him.
Carefully, she slipped from beneath his arm. The air felt colder without his warmth. She dressed quietly, gathering her damp things from the chair.
Her gaze fell on the small pouch of coins near the bedside.
Her stomach twisted.
“I am sorry,” she murmured under her breath.
She picked up only a few pieces, just enough to survive another stretch of road. Her hands shook as she tied the pouch again and set it back exactly where she had found it.
At the door she paused.
Frederick tossed slightly in his sleep, brow furrowing as if he sensed her leaving. She stepped closer once more, unable to stopherself. For a moment she simply looked at him, memorizing the curve of his mouth, the strength in his shoulders.
“I will pay ye back,” she whispered. “If I survive long enough.”
The words felt like a vow she had no right to make.
Then she slipped out into the corridor and disappeared down the stairs, leaving behind warmth, coin, and the only night she had ever allowed herself to forget she was being hunted.
1
SEVEN YEARS LATER