Frederick studied her for a moment, his gaze narrowing slightly as he considered what lay beneath her words.
She expected rejection, and when it did not come, she treated acceptance as something earned rather than given.
His jaw fluttered faintly.What kind of life has she lived?
The question settled heavily in his mind.
What had shaped her into someone who braced for the worst even when surrounded by those who meant her no harm? Who had taught her that kindness required proof before it could be trusted?
The questions swirling in his mind nearly escaped in the moment, but he managed not to ask her about it.
Not here or now anyway.
Instead, he reached out, his hand closing lightly around her wrist, guiding her attention away from the others and back to him.
“Look at me,” he said.
She did, but he could see plainly that there was hesitation there. Though she did not pull away.
“If I thought Ariella would nae accept ye,” he said, his voice steady, leaving no room for doubt, “she would nae be here.”
Iona blinked.
He held her gaze.
“And if me maither had refused ye,” he continued, “I would have sent ye to Ariella instead.”
The words were simple. Practical. Stated as fact rather than reassurance.
Her breath caught slightly.
“Ye would have sent me away?” she asked.
“Aye,” he said. “To where ye would be safe.”
Her eyes searched his face, as though looking for something beyond what he had said.
“Why?” she asked quietly.
The answer came without effort.
“Because it is me duty.”
He did not soften it. Did not dress it in anything more than what it was.
“To ye,” he added. “And to our child.”
The words settled between them.
Iona’s expression relaxed visibly, which surprised him.
He had expected resistance. Expected her to bristle at being spoken of in terms of obligation.
Instead, she seemed steadied by it.
As though duty was something she understood far better than affection.
Her mouth curved then, slow and genuine in a way he had not seen from her before.