“Aye,” Frederick said. “What do ye do for sport?”
Jamie’s fingers resumed tearing at the bannock, though the earlier tension had not fully left.
“I… run. Sometimes. And climb the trees near the stream,” Jamie said, though the words came absentmindedly. “Ms. Dawson says I will break me neck one day.”
Frederick almost smiled.
“A possibility,” he said. “But avoidable.”
Caitlin watched them both closely now, her concern not yet eased.
“I think I shall fetch yer maither,” she said after a moment, pushing back slightly from the table. “She will wish to know of the McNeill visit.”
Frederick inclined his head, though he suspected that was not her only reason.
Jamie did not respond. The boy simply stared down at the plate, expression thoughtful in a way that did not belong to one so young.
Frederick’s attention settled on her and did not move.
Something weighed there. It was as if he did not know how to give shape to it.
Before Caitlin could rise fully, Jamie spoke again. The voice was quieter this time, but clearer.
“How are children made?”
The question settled over the table like a thrown blade, sharp and impossible to ignore.
“How are children made?” Jamie said again, louder now, as if certain he would not be dismissed this time.
Frederick did not often find himself without an immediate answer. Even when circumstances shifted or plans unraveled,he adapted, adjusted, commanded. Words came when needed. Orders were given. Decisions followed.
Now, with a single earnest question from a boy who looked at him as though he should already know the answer, his mind stalled.
He had faced armed men in the dark. He had stood his ground against threats that would have broken others. Yet this quiet curiosity, spoken with complete seriousness, left him reaching for footing that was not there.
He cleared his throat, though it did little to steady him.
Caitlin, to her credit, did not falter. “Well now,” she began smoothly, folding her hands together as though the conversation had taken a perfectly expected turn, “that is a question with many answers, depending on how much ye wish to ken.”
Jamie looked between them, entirely undeterred. “I want to ken all of it.”
Frederick nearly choked on the sip of ale he had just taken, coughing once as he set the cup down more firmly than intended.
Caitlin’s lips pressed together, though her eyes betrayed her. There was laughter there, carefully restrained.
“Aye, I can see that,” she said, her tone composed. “But perhaps we begin with something simpler.”
Jamie leaned forward slightly. “I thought a man and a woman had to be married first.”
Frederick’s jaw tightened.
Of course, that was the direction the boy had taken.
“Aye,” Caitlin said carefully, “many do marry before they have a bairn. It is the common way of things.”
“But nae always?” Jamie pressed.
“Nae always,” Caitlin allowed.