She could see it plainly.
He stepped closer again, though this time she held her ground.
“Careful,” he murmured. “Ye are contradicting yerself.”
“I am doing nay such thing.”
“Aye, ye are.”
“Then perhaps ye should stop listening so closely.”
His mouth curved again, softer this time, but no less dangerous.
“Difficult when ye speak so loudly.”
She exhaled sharply, frustrated beyond reason, and turned away before he could say anything further.
“Never mind,” she muttered.
I am a fool. What had she been thinking, coming here like this? Asking him anything, letting him stand so close, letting herself forget for even a moment why she had come at all.
And now she smelled of sweat and herbs and foolish decisions.
She did not look back.
She refused to.
Still, as she walked away from the training yard, she could hear it.
That low, quiet chuckle behind her.
And it followed her far longer than she cared to admit.
12
The arrival was announced well before the carriage reached the gates.
A horn sounded from the outer wall, followed by the steady clatter of wheels over stone and the sharper rhythm of mounted guards falling into formation. Frederick stood in the courtyard, one hand resting lightly on the small hilt of the hidden dagger under his tunic, and Lennox stood a few paces to his right; both men’s expressions were composed as they watched the gates open.
He had expected Ariella to come as soon as she received the letter from their mother. He had expected Maxwell to come with her. What he had not expected was how quickly the household had gathered itself into a state of visible anticipation, as if the castle itself understood that a daughter was returning and a new branch of the family was to be inspected.
Servants moved more briskly than usual. Caitlin had changed gowns before noon. Even the kitchen staff had somehow learned of the visit before the messenger finished the sentence.
Lennox leaned slightly nearer, keeping his voice low enough that only Frederick would hear.
“Yer mother has instructed half the staff to behave as though the king hisself were arriving.”
Frederick did not look at him. “Me sister inspires more panic than kings.”
“That is likely true,” Lennox said. “Kings tend to leave sooner, too.”
The carriage rolled fully into the courtyard then, lacquered dark and trimmed with the McNeill colors. Two mounted men followed behind, and another pair rode ahead. His brother-in-law, Maxwell, was the Laird McNeill. He did not trust roads any more than he trusted weather, strangers, or chance itself. Frederick respected that, even if he found it excessive in practice.
The carriage door had hardly been opened before Maxwell was already at its side.
He dismounted in one smooth movement, crossing the short distance before the footman could properly offer assistance. He lifted Ariella down as though the woman weighed no morethan a folded blanket, his hands careful and unshakably certain around her waist.
Frederick had seen the man on battlefields. He had seen him at treaty discussions and in the aftermath of violence. There was something almost unsettling in the contrast between that hard competence and the tenderness with which he handled his wife.