She shifted her weight, one hand resting lightly against the curve of her stomach.
“I was nae a strong child,” she continued. “There were years when it was uncertain whether I would grow at all as I should. Skylar…changed that. She tended me when others could nae. She taught me how to endure what frightened me. Without her, I would nae be standing here now.”
Iona absorbed that quietly. “And Frederick?”
Ariella’s expression softened, though there was something heavier beneath it.
“He does nae forget such things,” she said. “He does nae forget who nearly lost what he could nae bear to lose. Nor who kept it from happening.”
Iona felt something shift at that.
“He carries it still,” Ariella added. “Even now.”
Iona looked down at the plants again, though her thoughts had moved elsewhere.
“And why are ye telling me this?” she asked.
Ariella stepped closer, her voice gentler now.
“Because ye look at him and see the laird,” she said. “The man who makes decisions, who commands, who holds everything together because he must.”
Iona’s fingers stilled against the leaves.
“But that is nae all he is,” Ariella continued. “There is a man beneath that. One who learned too early that if he did nae carry everything, nay one else would. One who does nae always know how to set that burden down, even when he should.”
Iona lifted her gaze.
Ariella met it steadily.
“He will nae tell ye this himself,” she said. “He does nae speak of such things. But if ye are to stand near him, ye should ken it.”
Silence settled between them again.
Eventually, Ariella glanced toward the courtyard, then back to Iona. “I should return,” she said. “Maxwell will be waiting, I expect.”
Iona nodded, though her thoughts had not yet caught up with her.
Ariella smiled once more, softer now. “We will see each other again. I am sure of it.”
Then she turned, leaving Iona standing among the growing things, the scent of herbs rising around her as the morning stretched on.
The garden did not feel the same once Ariella turned away.
Iona remained where she stood for a moment longer, her fingers brushing absently over the leaves nearest her, though she no longer registered their scent or shape.
The words Ariella had spoken remained planted in her mind, settling into places she had kept carefully guarded. She had thought she understood the man Frederick was. She had believed she could measure him by what he showed, by what he said, by the way he carried himself with unshakable certainty.
Now she was not so certain of her own understanding.
From the far end of the garden, Jamie’s laughter broke through her thoughts, bright and unrestrained. Erin’s voice followed, steady and amused, as she guided the child through whatever small discovery had captured attention.
Iona exhaled slowly and turned toward them.
“We should return,” she said, more to herself than to anyone else.
Erin glanced up as they approached. “Already?”
“Aye,” Iona replied. “They will be preparing to leave.”