Chapter 19
“Go, me Lady,” Moira said, pressing a folded cloth into Ariella’s hands. “Wash. Sit. Breathe. Ye’ve done enough for one night.”
“I can stay,” Ariella replied automatically. “Mairi might need —”
“She willnae,” Moira cut in. “She’s sleeping, the baby’s sleeping, and Callum looks like a man who’d bite anyone who comes near them now. That includes ye.”
Ariella hesitated, glancing toward the bed. Mairi lay propped against pillows, eyes closed, Callum’s arm draped protectively over her waist, the tiny bundle tucked safely between them. The room felt peaceful in a way it hadn’t an hour ago.
Moira followed her gaze. “See. All is well.”
Ariella exhaled slowly. “All right.”
She handed back the cloth and stepped away from the bed. As she reached the door, Mairi stirred, eyes fluttering open.
“Me Lady,” she murmured.
Ariella turned at once. “I am here.”
Mairi smiled faintly. “Thank ye.”
The simple words tightened Ariella’s throat. “Rest,” she said gently. “We’ll see ye tomorrow.”
Mairi nodded and drifted back to sleep.
Outside the chamber, the corridor was quieter, though not empty. Guards stood at their posts. Servants whispered as they carried away basins and linens. Somewhere down the hall, a door closed softly.
Maxwell stood near the window at the end of the corridor, hands clasped behind his back, gaze fixed outward. He turned when she approached.
“She’s settled,” Ariella said.
He nodded. “Good.”
“The baby is strong,” she added.
Another nod. “Good.”
They stood there for a moment, neither quite ready to move on.
“Ye should rest,” he said.
“So should ye,” she replied.
His mouth twitched. “I will.”
She did not believe him.
As she walked away, she felt his eyes on her. And Ariella turned just in time to see his shadowed figure cross the corridor leading out to the upper battlements, and followed wordlessly.
The cold hit her like a sack of flour had been thrown at her face. The wind nipped at her exposed cheeks and ears and the night shrouded her vision instantly.
“Ye should be in yer rooms, lass.”
Ariella turned at the sound of Maxwell’s voice behind her, low and measured, as though the night itself had taught him how to speak more quietly, but she couldn’t make out his features in the darkness.
“I figured ye kent something I didnae when I watched ye come out here,” she replied. “I was… curious.”
He closed the distance between them, his features becoming more plain with every inch he neared.
She noticed that Maxwell glanced past her, toward the darkened corridor. “The watch has been doubled. I wanted to see it with me own eyes.”
“And did it satisfy ye,” she asked lightly, though her heart still felt full to the brim with the day.
“It rarely does,” he said.
She stepped aside to let him pass. “Then ye should come up. The wind is sharp, but the air clears the mind.”
He hesitated only a fraction of a second before nodding. “Very well.”
They climbed in silence, boots echoing softly. The stair opened onto the battlements, where moonlight washed the stone pale and silver. The land stretched wide beyond the walls, dark hills rolling into shadow. Somewhere far off, an owl called.
Maxwell stopped at the parapet, resting his hands on the cold stone.
Ariella lingered a step behind him, drawing her cloak tighter. “Ye look as though ye intend to wrestle the horizon.”
“It has been kent to resist,” he said.
She smiled faintly and moved to stand beside him. “The keep is quieter now.”
“Aye.”
“For a while, it felt as though it might burst apart.”
“And yet,” he said, gaze fixed outward, “it didnae.”
She tilted her head. “Ye sound surprised.”
“I am,” he admitted. “Chaos tests a structure. Weak ones fail.”
“And strong ones bend,” she replied.
He looked at her then, brows drawing together slightly. “Is that what ye think?”
“It is what I ken,” she said. “Mairi bent today. So did Callum. So did ye.”
His mouth tightened, not in anger, but restraint. “I gave orders.”
“And ye stayed,” Ariella said quietly. “Ye didnae flee the sound of pain. That matters.”
He did not answer at once.
She reached into the folds of her cloak and drew out a small flask. “I have this,” she said, holding it out. “Moira insisted that I take it with me on the come down from the birth.”
Maxwell eyed it. “Moira insists on many things.”
“She does,” Ariella agreed. “But she is rarely wrong.”
He took the flask, their fingers brushing briefly. The contact sent a faint spark up her arm, unwelcome only because she welcomed it too much.
He took a measured sip, then handed it back. “Whiskey. Strong.”
“She believes strength solves most ailments.”
He gave a quiet sound that might have been amusement.
They stood shoulder to shoulder, not touching, yet close enough that Ariella could feel the heat of him through wool and leather. She was acutely aware of the space between them, how small it was, how deliberate.
“Ye were remarkable today,” he said suddenly.
She blinked. “I beg yer pardon.”
“In the chamber,” he clarified. “Ye did nae falter.”
She lowered her gaze. “I only did what needed doing.”
“That is nae nothin’,” he said. “Many falter when they are needed most.”
She glanced up at him. “Did ye?”
He shook his head. “Nay.”
“That is because ye are accustomed to danger,” she said.
His eyes flicked to hers. “So are ye, it seems.”
She laughed softly. “Only of a different sort.”
The wind rose, tugging at her cloak. Without comment, Maxwell shifted closer and adjusted the edge of his cloak, so it shielded her as well. The movement was instinctive, unthinking.
Her breath caught.
“Thank ye,” she murmured.
He nodded once, as though the matter required no further discussion.
But her heart beat faster all the same.
They began to walk the length of the battlements at an unhurried pace, the rhythm of their steps settling into something companionable.
“The healer praised ye,” Maxwell said.
Ariella frowned slightly. “She did?”
“She said ye did well,” he replied. “That she could have arrived an hour later and found matters still in hand.”
A warmth spread through her chest. “That was kind of her.”
“It was accurate,” he said.
She hesitated, then asked, “Did it trouble ye? The birth.”
His jaw flexed. “Why would it?”
She considered him. “Because it reminds us of how little control we truly have.”
He stopped walking.
Ariella halted beside him suddenly uncertain if she had pushed too far.
“For some,” he said carefully, “control is the only thing standing between order and ruin.”
She nodded. “I understand that.”
His gaze searched her face. “Do ye?”
She met his eyes. “Yes.”
They stood in silence for a moment, the wind threading between them.
“Me maither,” he said at last, “stood like that once.”
Ariella’s heart skipped. “Yer maither.”
“She was called upon when folk were wounded,” he continued. “Nae because she was laird’s wife. Because she knew what to do.”
She listened, careful not to interrupt.
“She taught me which herbs dull pain,” he said. “Which poultices draw fever out. I didnae understand why a warrior needed such knowledge until later.”
“And now,” Ariella asked gently.
“Now I ken that strength takes many forms.”
She smiled softly. “Skylar says the same.”
He nodded silently.
She looked out over the land again. “She would like ye, I think.”
He gave a soft huff. “She already married someone else.”
“That is nae what I meant,” Ariella said, smiling.
The silence that followed was comfortable, but charged.
“Seeing ye today,” Maxwell said, voice lower now, “I thought of me maither again.”
Ariella’s breath stilled. “In what way?”
“In the way ye steadied others,” he replied. “Without demanding notice.”
Her chest tightened. “That is a great compliment.”
“It is an honest one.”
She looked at him then, really looked, and saw the weariness beneath the control. The fractures he kept bound tight.
“Maxwell,” she said softly, “ye carry much alone.”
He stiffened. “It is me duty.”
“Duty does nae forbid companionship,” she replied.
He did not answer.
They resumed walking, though something had shifted between them. The air felt thicker, as if holding words neither dared speak.
She became aware of how close his arm was to hers, how easily she could reach out and rest her hand there. The thought alone made her pulse jump.
She did not act on it.
Not yet.
They stopped near the stairwell, where the watch changed below with murmured greetings.
“Ye should rest,” Maxwell said, tone returning to command. “Tomorrow will be busy.”
Ariella nodded, though she did not move. “Will ye stay out here?”
“I will finish the round.”
She hesitated, then asked, “Do ye ever wish things were different?”
His gaze sharpened. “Different how?”
She swallowed. “Less… heavy.”
The pause stretched long enough that she wondered if he would refuse to answer.
“Sometimes,” he said at last.
The single word lodged in her chest like a secret.
She smiled, small and sincere. “That is enough.”
He turned toward her, so close now that she could see the faint scar near his brow, the way moonlight caught in his eyes.
For a heartbeat, neither moved.
She felt it then, unmistakable. Not desire alone. Not only admiration.
Love, whispered a traitorous part of her mind.
She pushed the thought away, even as it settled into her bones.
“Thank ye,” she said instead. “For letting me stand here with ye.”
He inclined his head. “Any time.”
She turned toward the stairs, then paused. “Good night, Maxwell.”
“Good night, Ariella.”
She started to descend the stair, heart racing, when suddenly she stopped.
“Maxwell.”
He turned at once, as though he had been waiting for her to say his name.
She hesitated, acutely aware of how thin her reasons felt compared to the weight of what lingered between them. Still, this was practical. Safe. Something she could say without unraveling herself.
“Mairi asked that I relay a message to ye,” she said.
His brows lifted slightly. “Did she?”
“She did,” Ariella replied. “She and Callum would like us to visit tomorrow afternoon. To see the baby. At their cottage.”
The words hung in the cold air.
Maxwell did not answer immediately. His gaze drifted toward the inner wall of the keep, toward where the nursery windows glowed faintly with lamplight. Ariella watched his face carefully, the tightening at his jaw, the controlled stillness that had become so familiar to her.
“She should be resting,” he said at last.
“She is,” Ariella assured him quickly. “Moira all but threatened Callum with bodily harm if he let her overexert herself. This would be brief. Only when she feels ready.”
Maxwell nodded once. “And she does?”
“Yes,” Ariella said. “Very much so.”
Another pause. The wind tugged at her cloak again, and this time she did not adjust it. She waited.
“She asked for both of us,” Ariella added, softer now. “Nae only me.”
That did it.
Maxwell’s gaze returned to her, sharp but unreadable. “Did she?”
“Aye,” Ariella said, meeting his eyes. “She said it would please her greatly.”
He exhaled slowly through his nose, as if weighing something unseen.
“We will go, then,” he said.
The simple agreement sent an unexpected warmth through her chest.
“Thank ye,” she said, then frowned slightly. “Ye sound as though ye are agreeing to a council meeting.”
He huffed quietly. “I am agreeing to a room full of noise, questions, and a very small person who will likely judge me.”
A smile curved her lips before she could stop it. “She will.”
He glanced at her mouth, then away. “Tomorrow afternoon,” he repeated. “If the weather holds.”
“It will,” Ariella said, too quickly, as if daring the sky to contradict her.
He stepped back, reclaiming a careful distance. “Now ye should truly rest.”
She nodded. “And ye should nae stand out here all night.”
“I will manage,” he replied.
She turned toward the stair once more, heart lighter than before. As she descended, she heard him add, quieter than before,
“Ariella.”
She looked back.
“Thank ye,” he said. “For telling me yerself.”
Her smile softened. “Of course.”
She left him there, beneath the watchful moon, already thinking of tomorrow.