Behind him, Ariella smiled. “I think,” she said lightly, “that this will be far more interesting than I expected. Do keep us apprised of any… further attempts, braither,” she finished jokingly, sharing another laugh with Maxwell, but Frederick just rolled his eyes.
As they turned back toward the keep, his thoughts had already begun to spin and plot, and that, in itself, was a shift he could not ignore.
14
The next morning arrived bright and deceptively gentle, as though the world had chosen to forget that it could turn cruel without warning.
Iona Pearson stood at the chamber window with one hand braced against the stone, watching sunlight spread over the lower grounds of the keep. The air beyond the glass looked crisp and clear. A servant crossed the courtyard carrying folded linens. Two guards changed posts at the gate. Somewhere farther off, she could hear the faint bark of a dog and the muted clatter of stable work already underway.
It should have felt peaceful.
Instead, she felt alert in that old familiar way, as if calm itself might be a trick.
The previous evening had left too much unsettled inside her. Ariella’s kindness, Frederick’s steadiness, the ease with whichJamie had begun to bloom beneath the attention of people who did not look at the child as a burden or an inconvenience, all of it had pressed against places in her that had survived for years by staying hard.
Erin, already dressed and sorting through dried herbs at the small table, gave her a sidelong look.
“Ye have worn the same path across that floor three times,” the older woman said. “If ye keep at it, the stones will complain.”
Iona turned from the window. “I am nae pacing.”
“Aye,” Erin said dryly. “And I am twenty.”
A knock came before Iona could answer.
Her heartbeat gave a small, foolish jump.
When she opened the door, she found Frederick standing there in dark wool and leather, broad shoulders filling the threshold with his usual quiet certainty. Jamie stood a little behind him, already bundled for the morning, face bright with expectation.
Frederick’s gaze met hers first.
“I thought ye might wish to walk the grounds with me,” he said.
The words were simple enough, but something about them caught her off guard.
“Ye… thought… that…?” she repeated questioningly.
“Aye.”
He did not elaborate.
Jamie, less interested in caution than either of them, leaned around him at once. “There are dogs,” the child announced. “And a pond. And Lennox says one of the gardeners is missing half a thumb but still grows the best apples.”
Iona blinked. “When exactly did Lennox tell ye all that?”
“Just last night!”
Frederick did not appear remotely troubled by the fact that his man-at-arms had apparently begun providing Jamie with castle gossip at dawn.
It struck Iona then, with a faint and ridiculous force, that this was an attempt at friendship… at… good faith… at…
The realization warmed her face before she could stop it.
Could this be courtship?
Erin’s eyes narrowed with wicked accuracy from the table behind her, but thankfully, she said nothing aloud.
Iona folded her hands before her and lifted her chin. “A walk?”