Chapter 10
Frederick had expected her refusal.
It had been the most likely outcome if he had been honest with himself.
Iona Pearson did not yield easily. She questioned, resisted, and tested every word placed before her as though expecting it to break beneath her weight.
A proposal, offered as plainly as he had given it, had little chance of being accepted without challenge.
Still, expectation did little to soften the bruise to his pride.
He crossed the corridor toward the dining hall with steady steps, his expression composed, though his thoughts lingered longer than they should have.
She had refused him.
Not hesitated. Not deferred. Refused.
And yet…
His jaw tightened slightly.
If she had agreed, the night would have ended very differently.
He had not been blind to the way she had looked at him in the study, nor to the way her breath had faltered when he had drawn closer.
That kiss had not been one-sided. It had been restrained, held back by something neither of them had named.
It would not have remained so.
Frederick pushed the thought aside as he reached the doors of the hall and stepped inside.
Morning light poured through the tall windows, cutting across the long wooden tables. The scent of fresh bannocks and oat porridge lingered in the air, mingling with the faint smoke from the hearth.
He found them all sitting there.
Jamie sat beside his mother at the smaller table near the window, legs swinging idly beneath the bench, the movement restless in the way of young lads who could never quite sit still for long.
Caitlin, on the other side, leaned toward the boy, speaking softly, her expression warm in a way Frederick had not seen directed at him in years.
He paused for a moment at the threshold.
There was something…steadying about the sight.
Jamie listened intently, nodding at something Caitlin had said, though it was clear his attention wandered between the food and the conversation. A smear of jam marked one corner of his mouth, and he made no move to wipe it away.
Frederick crossed the room.
Jamie noticed him first.
“Good mornin’, Frederick,” the lad said, voice bright despite the early hour.
Frederick inclined his head in return as he took a seat across from them. “Good mornin’.”
Caitlin glanced up, her gaze flicking between him and Jamie with quiet satisfaction. “Ye have slept well, I hope?”
“Well enough,” he replied.
A servant approached and placed a plate before him. Frederick reached for his cup, taking a measured drink as he assessed the ease between them.
Jamie did not shrink from Caitlin, did not sit stiffly or guarded as some boys might in unfamiliar company. He spoke freely, though not without moments of quiet observation, as if still measuring the space, weighing what was safe and what was not.
It was…acceptable.
Caitlin folded her hands neatly atop the table. “I have sent word to Ariella.”
Frederick stilled slightly. “Have ye now?”
“She will wish to see ye and receive an update,” Caitlin continued, her tone light, though there was a note of intent beneath it. “And Maxwell will insist upon accompanying her. They should arrive within a fortnight, if travel is favorable.”
Frederick nodded once. That had been inevitable.
“They are eager,” Caitlin added, her gaze shifting again to Jamie. “It is nae every day our family gains an heir so unexpectedly.”
The word landed.
Frederick saw it the moment it did.
Jamie’s shoulders tensed. Subtle, but unmistakable.
The boy’s hand stilled where it held a piece of bannock.
Caitlin noticed as well. “Is something amiss?” she asked gently. “Do ye nae wish to meet yer aunt?”
Jamie’s gaze dropped to the table.
“Nay,” the boy murmured after a moment.
Frederick’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“That isnae it,” Jamie added quietly.
Caitlin leaned forward, concern threading through her voice. “Then what troubles ye?”
Jamie hesitated, then spoke in a near whisper.
“I am nay heir.”
The words were soft. Careful.
But they struck harder than they should have.
Caitlin’s brows drew together, confusion flickering across her face. “Why would ye say such a thing?”
Frederick set his cup down.
He did not like the direction of the conversation. Not with the boy already unsettled, not when there were truths yet unspoken and lines not yet drawn between them.
He shifted forward slightly, redirecting with deliberate ease.
“What games do ye play here?” he asked, his tone steady, as though the question had always been his intention.
Jamie blinked, caught between answers.
“Games?” the boy repeated.
“Aye,” Frederick said. “What do ye do for sport?”
Jamie’s fingers resumed tearing at the bannock, though the earlier tension had not fully left.
“I… run. Sometimes. And climb the trees near the stream,” Jamie said, though the words came absentmindedly. “Ms. Dawson says I will break me neck one day.”
Frederick almost smiled.
“A possibility,” he said. “But avoidable.”
Caitlin watched them both closely now, her concern not yet eased.
“I think I shall fetch yer maither,” she said after a moment, pushing back slightly from the table. “She will wish to know of the McNeill visit.”
Frederick inclined his head, though he suspected that was not her only reason.
Jamie did not respond. The boy simply stared down at the plate, expression thoughtful in a way that did not belong to one so young.
Frederick’s attention settled on her and did not move.
Something weighed there. It was as if he did not know how to give shape to it.
Before Caitlin could rise fully, Jamie spoke again. The voice was quieter this time, but clearer.
“How are children made?”
The question settled over the table like a thrown blade, sharp and impossible to ignore.
“How are children made?” Jamie said again, louder now, as if certain he would not be dismissed this time.
Frederick did not often find himself without an immediate answer. Even when circumstances shifted or plans unraveled, he adapted, adjusted, commanded. Words came when needed. Orders were given. Decisions followed.
Now, with a single earnest question from a boy who looked at him as though he should already know the answer, his mind stalled.
He had faced armed men in the dark. He had stood his ground against threats that would have broken others. Yet this quiet curiosity, spoken with complete seriousness, left him reaching for footing that was not there.
He cleared his throat, though it did little to steady him.
Caitlin, to her credit, did not falter. “Well now,” she began smoothly, folding her hands together as though the conversation had taken a perfectly expected turn, “that is a question with many answers, depending on how much ye wish to ken.”
Jamie looked between them, entirely undeterred. “I want to ken all of it.”
Frederick nearly choked on the sip of ale he had just taken, coughing once as he set the cup down more firmly than intended.
Caitlin’s lips pressed together, though her eyes betrayed her. There was laughter there, carefully restrained.
“Aye, I can see that,” she said, her tone composed. “But perhaps we begin with something simpler.”
Jamie leaned forward slightly. “I thought a man and a woman had to be married first.”
Frederick’s jaw tightened.
Of course, that was the direction the boy had taken.
“Aye,” Caitlin said carefully, “many do marry before they have a bairn. It is the common way of things.”
“But nae always?” Jamie pressed.
“Nae always,” Caitlin allowed.
Jamie’s gaze shifted then, settling squarely on Frederick with a weight that was far too perceptive for a lad his age.
“Then how did ye and me mam do it?”
Frederick felt the question land in a place he had not yet prepared to defend.
There it was. Not simply curiosity, but connection. The boy sought to make sense of something that had been left unsaid for too long.
He exhaled slowly, buying himself a moment.
Caitlin glanced at him, clearly amused now, though she said nothing. She would let him answer. That much was obvious.
A test, then.
He straightened slightly in his seat, forcing his tone into something measured.
“There are matters,” he began, choosing each word with care, “that are better explained when ye are older.”
Jamie frowned. “But I am nae that young.”
Frederick almost let out a short breath of disbelief.
“Nay,” he agreed, “but ye are young enough that ye need nae ken all of it this morning.”
Jamie did not look convinced.
“But I daenae understand,” the boy insisted. “If ye werenae married, how did it happen?”
Frederick felt Caitlin’s gaze sharpen beside him, waiting to see how he would manage it.
He could not tell the truth. Not like this. Not without Iona present. Not without knowing what she had chosen to share, or what she had held back. There were lines here he would not cross without her.
So he did what he had done countless times before when a situation threatened to turn beyond control.
He redirected.
“What game did ye say ye liked best?” he asked, leaning forward slightly as though the shift in subject was the most natural thing in the world.
Jamie blinked, thrown off balance.
“The… the climbing,” the boy said slowly, though suspicion lingered. “And racing.”
“Aye,” Frederick said, nodding once. “Then we shall see how fast ye are later. There is space enough in the yard for it.”
Jamie hesitated, the earlier question still hovering between them.
Caitlin said nothing, though Frederick could feel her attention, measuring whether he would be challenged again.
For a moment, it seemed the boy might press further.
Then, slowly, the tension eased.
“Aye,” Jamie said at last, though the agreement came with a trace of reluctance. “I can show ye.”
Relief did not come all at once, but it came.
Frederick allowed himself a breath he had not realized he had been holding.
“Good,” he said. “Then we will see it done.”
Jamie’s attention shifted fully now, the earlier line of questioning set aside for the moment, though not forgotten. Frederick knew better than to think it gone entirely.
Caitlin leaned back slightly, her composure returning fully now that the storm had passed.
“Well handled,” she mouthed, careful not to let the young lad see, but she did not hide her amusement.
Frederick shot her a look.
“I have seen ye face worse with less hesitation,” she added quietly, lifting her cup.
He chose not to respond.
Jamie slid from the bench with renewed energy, already thinking ahead. “Will there be swords?”
Frederick stood as well, shaking his head once. “Nae yet.”
Jamie’s face fell slightly. “Why nae?”
“Because ye are nae ready,” Frederick said simply, moving toward the door with the boy beside him. “And because I would prefer ye keep all yer limbs where they belong.”
Jamie huffed at that, though there was a flicker of acceptance beneath it. “When will I be ready?”
“When ye can follow instruction without question,” Frederick replied.
Jamie glanced up at him. “I can do that.”
Frederick arched a brow. “Can ye?”
There was a brief pause.
“…Aye,” Jamie said, though the delay gave the answer away.
Frederick almost smiled.
“We shall see,” he said.
They stepped into the corridor, the morning light stretching long across the stone floors. The air carried a faint chill, though it would not last once the day fully took hold.
Behind them, Caitlin remained at the table.
Frederick did not need to turn to know she was watching.
As they walked, his thoughts returned, unbidden, to the earlier exchange.
Jamie’s question had not been idle curiosity. It had been tied to uncertainty and a lack of belonging.
I am nay heir.
The words echoed again.
Frederick’s gaze shifted briefly to the boy at his side.
There was more beneath the surface. Something that Iona had still not told him.
He would not press it here with the lad. Not in passing. Not without understanding what he risked unsettling. But it would be addressed in time.
For now, there were simpler matters to tend.
“Stay close,” he said as they neared the outer doors. “The ground will be uneven past the yard.”
Jamie nodded, already looking ahead with anticipation.
Frederick stepped out into the morning air, his focus sharpening as the familiar rhythm of the day settled around him.
There would be time enough for questions later.
And answers.