She found herself thinking, not for the first time, that whatever Ariella and Maxwell had, whatever steadiness lived between them, whatever trust allowed such ease in their presence… she wanted that.
She wanted the same sense of certainty and to know she did not have to stand alone in every room she entered.
And when she glanced up at Frederick as they returned to the warmth of the fire, she wondered, despite herself, if that was something he might one day give.
13
Frederick did not often remove himself from his own hall.
It was not his habit to stand apart while others occupied the space he was meant to command. Yet that evening, as conversation swelled and laughter rose from the table, he found himself lingering at the edge of it instead, near the hearth where the fire burned low and steady.
Iona stood beside him.
Not touching, not quite near enough for familiarity, yet close enough that he was aware of her with a constant precision that had begun to feel less like distraction and more like instinct.
It had been his suggestion.
A quiet one, spoken low enough that only she would hear, offered not as an order but as a solution. She had taken itwithout argument this time, which in itself was notable. The room no longer pressed in on her as it had before. She stood with more ease now, though he could still see the effort beneath it, the careful control she maintained over every expression, every movement.
Across the room, his family had claimed Jamie entirely.
Caitlin sat closest, her posture relaxed in a way Frederick rarely saw, her attention fixed wholly on the boy. Ariella leaned forward, one hand resting over her belly as she spoke animatedly, while Maxwell hovered beside her with a vigilance that bordered on absurdity.
Frederick watched as Jamie reached out, tentative at first, then with growing curiosity, and pressed a small hand against the curve of Ariella’s stomach.
Ariella stilled, then smiled.
“Do ye feel that?” she asked.
Jamie’s eyes widened. “It moved.”
“Aye,” Ariella said softly. “That is yer cousin reminding us that it is there.”
Jamie did it again, more certain this time, as though testing the truth of it.
Frederick shifted his weight slightly, his attention flicking to Iona.
She was watching as well.
There was a soft gratitude in her expression that did not match the moment. He recognized it with a faint sense of disquiet.
“They have been…kind,” she said, her voice low, as though she did not wish to interrupt what was unfolding across the room. “More than I expected.”
Frederick turned his head to look at her fully.
She kept her gaze on the others, though he could see the shift in her posture, the way her shoulders eased just slightly as she spoke. It should have been unremarkable. It should have been expected.
And yet she spoke of it as though it were something rare.
“They are me family,” he said.
“I ken that,” she replied. “Still…they have taken us in as though we have always belonged here.”
There it was again.
That note of surprise.
It unsettled him more than he liked.