Jamie’s expression fell slightly. “Are they going now?”
“Soon,” Iona said.
That was enough to send the child moving again, darting ahead toward the path that led back toward the keep, as though speed alone might hold the moment in place a little longer.
The walk back felt shorter than it had before, though Iona could not say whether that was because the distance had truly lessened or because her thoughts had narrowed into something sharper.
The sounds of the courtyard reached them before the space itself came into view. Hooves against stone. The low murmur of menpreparing the carriage. The creak of leather harness and the soft snort of horses shifting in place.
By the time they stepped into the open, everything was nearly ready.
Maxwell stood near the carriage, speaking briefly with Lennox, who listened with the attentive stillness of a man accustomed to taking in detail without wasting motion. Frederick stood a short distance away, his posture composed, though his gaze moved immediately to Iona the moment she appeared.
It was not a searching look, but one of certainty. As though he had known exactly where she would be.
Ariella turned at the same moment, her face lighting with recognition. “There ye are, laddie!”
Jamie ran ahead without hesitation, stopping just short of Ariella as if remembering at the last moment that she should not be bowled over in her condition.
“I made it in time, as I said I would have done,” the child said.
“Aye, ye did,” Ariella replied, reaching out to brush a hand over Jamie’s hair.
Maxwell stepped forward then, his attention shifting easily between them all. “We should nae delay much longer,” he said. “If we depart now, we will make good distance before nightfall.”
“Aye,” Frederick said.
The word carried more weight than it seemed.
They gathered near the carriage, the moment stretching just enough to feel it as something more than simple departure. Caitlin joined them, her expression composed but not untouched by the occasion. Erin stood slightly to the side, her presence quiet but steady.
Maxwell glanced toward Ariella with a small smile. “The next time we meet, I expect our daughter will be with us.”
Ariella swatted lightly at his arm. “Or our son.”
“Aye,” he allowed. “Or our son.”
Jamie looked between them, brows drawing together in thought. “Are ye hoping for a daughter?”
The question carried easily, innocent and unguarded, and yet it drew every eye toward the child.
Maxwell did not hesitate. “I am hoping for a healthy bairn,” he said. “But if I were given a daughter who looked like Ariella, I would count meself fortunate indeed.”
Ariella smiled at that, though she shook her head as if dismissing the compliment.
Jamie went very still.
The reaction was small and easily missed by anyone not looking directly.
But Iona saw it.
A tightening at the shoulders. A flicker of something uncertain in the child’s eyes.
And with it, something in Iona’s chest gave way.
The realization came swift and sharp, cutting through every other thought.
Jamie had heard and understood. Not fully, perhaps, with the clarity of an adult. But enough to question. And certainly enough to feel the difference between what was said and what had been hidden.