Chapter 12 #2
That would have been easier, but easier had never been her way.
She drew in a small breath and turned back to Ariella, forcing a polite smile into place.
“Of course,” she said.
Each step she took away from him felt noticed.
Not in a way that made her uncomfortable. Not entirely. It was something else. Something that lingered along her spine and made her aware of the distance growing between them, even as she moved only a few paces across the room.
I should nae care. Iona told herself, and yet she knew she did.
Ariella led her from the dining hall into a smaller adjoining chamber, one meant for quieter conversation, where the noise of the table softened into a distant murmur.
A fire burned low in the hearth there, and a single candle had been set upon a small table near the window, casting a gentler light than the hall behind them.
The moment the door closed, the air seemed to shift, and Iona let out a breath she had not realized she had been holding.
Ariella noticed immediately.
“I thought ye might need a moment,” she said, lowering herself carefully into one of the chairs with a small exhale of effort.
Iona remained standing for a second longer before joining her.
“Thank ye,” she said honestly. “It has been…a great ordeal.”
“Aye,” Ariella said, her tone sympathetic rather than amused. “Me family tends to descend all at once, and none of them ken how to be subtle about anything.”
Iona huffed a soft breath that might have been a laugh.
“They have been nothin’ but kind.”
“And that makes it worse, does it nae?”
Iona hesitated.
It did. She nodded.
Ariella studied her for a moment, then smiled, gentler now. “We will give them time to exhaust themselves on Jamie. It is far easier to be admired from a distance than surrounded.”
Iona allowed herself to settle more fully into the chair, her shoulders easing just slightly.
For a few moments, the conversation remained light.
Ariella leaned forward, one hand resting over the curve of her belly. “Tell me,” she said, her tone shifting with clear intent, “how terrible is it, truly?”
Iona blinked. “What?”
“The carrying. The birth. All of it. Me husband believes I shall perish before the child arrives if I so much as walk too quickly, and me maither has already planned for every possible disaster twice over.”
Iona smiled despite herself.
“It is nae easy,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “But it is nae as dreadful as men tend to imagine it either. The body kens what to do, more often than nae.”
Ariella listened closely.
“And the pain?” she pressed.
“It comes,” Iona admitted. “But it passes. And when it does…ye forget enough of it to consider doing it again.”
Ariella let out a slow breath. “That seems a cruel sort of mercy.”
“It is,” Iona said, her voice softening. “But it is also a gift. We are the only ones who can do it.”
They spoke for some time after that. Of small things at first. Of remedies Erin had taught her. Of what helped and what did not. Of how to sit when the weight grew too heavy and how to breathe when the body forgot how.
It felt strange, but also easy, in a way that she had not expected.
Ariella listened without judgment. She did not probe where it was not wanted. And she treated her as though she were equal, instead of someone to be measured or approved. Eventually, the conversation shifted.
“Me braither might be a hard man, but he has carried too much for too long,” she said quietly.
Iona stilled.
“Me father left him with debts and expectations that would have crushed most men,” Ariella continued. “Frederick took it all on without question. He would nae allow me maither or me to take any of it from him, though we tried.”
Iona listened, the coiled spring in her chest tightening.
“He rebuilt everything,” Ariella said. “Piece by piece. Alone, when he thought he had to be.”
Iona’s gaze dropped briefly to her hands.
Why are ye telling me this?
As if hearing the question unspoken, Ariella met her eyes again. “He is nae an easy man,” she said. “He will never speak of his worries. He will carry them until they break or are resolved. And he will expect to do so without help.”
Iona cleared her throat but still managed to stumble on her reply, “That sounds…exhausting.”
“It is,” Ariella said simply. “For him. And for anyone who cares for him.”
The words sat between them, untouched for a while.
Then Ariella leaned back slightly, her hand returning to her belly.
“But he will protect ye,” she added, her voice steady now. “Ye and yer bairn. Of that, I have nay doubt. Nae in this lifetime or the next.”
Iona’s throat tightened unexpectedly because she did not know what to say to that.
Before she could find the words, the door opened.
Frederick stepped inside.
His gaze found her immediately.
Relief flickered there, brief but unmistakable, before his expression settled once more into something controlled.
“I was beginning to think me sister had stolen ye entirely,” he said.
Ariella smiled. “Only for a moment.”
Iona rose, smoothing her hands down her skirts, suddenly aware of the space between them again.
Frederick crossed to her side without hesitation.
“Come,” he said quietly.
She nodded.
And as they walked back toward the hearth together, the tension did not ease. It shifted instead, settling into something quieter, no less present.
She found herself thinking, not for the first time, that whatever Ariella and Maxwell had, whatever steadiness lived between them, whatever trust allowed such ease in their presence… she wanted that.
She wanted the same sense of certainty and to know she did not have to stand alone in every room she entered.
And when she glanced up at Frederick as they returned to the warmth of the fire, she wondered, despite herself, if that was something he might one day give.