Chapter 13
Frederick did not often remove himself from his own hall.
It was not his habit to stand apart while others occupied the space he was meant to command. Yet that evening, as conversation swelled and laughter rose from the table, he found himself lingering at the edge of it instead, near the hearth where the fire burned low and steady.
Iona stood beside him.
Not touching, not quite near enough for familiarity, yet close enough that he was aware of her with a constant precision that had begun to feel less like distraction and more like instinct.
It had been his suggestion.
A quiet one, spoken low enough that only she would hear, offered not as an order but as a solution.
She had taken it without argument this time, which in itself was notable.
The room no longer pressed in on her as it had before.
She stood with more ease now, though he could still see the effort beneath it, the careful control she maintained over every expression, every movement.
Across the room, his family had claimed Jamie entirely.
Caitlin sat closest, her posture relaxed in a way Frederick rarely saw, her attention fixed wholly on the boy. Ariella leaned forward, one hand resting over her belly as she spoke animatedly, while Maxwell hovered beside her with a vigilance that bordered on absurdity.
Frederick watched as Jamie reached out, tentative at first, then with growing curiosity, and pressed a small hand against the curve of Ariella’s stomach.
Ariella stilled, then smiled.
“Do ye feel that?” she asked.
Jamie’s eyes widened. “It moved.”
“Aye,” Ariella said softly. “That is yer cousin reminding us that it is there.”
Jamie did it again, more certain this time, as though testing the truth of it.
Frederick shifted his weight slightly, his attention flicking to Iona.
She was watching as well.
There was a soft gratitude in her expression that did not match the moment. He recognized it with a faint sense of disquiet.
“They have been…kind,” she said, her voice low, as though she did not wish to interrupt what was unfolding across the room. “More than I expected.”
Frederick turned his head to look at her fully.
She kept her gaze on the others, though he could see the shift in her posture, the way her shoulders eased just slightly as she spoke. It should have been unremarkable. It should have been expected.
And yet she spoke of it as though it were something rare.
“They are me family,” he said.
“I ken that,” she replied. “Still…they have taken us in as though we have always belonged here.”
There it was again.
That note of surprise.
It unsettled him more than he liked.
Frederick studied her for a moment, his gaze narrowing slightly as he considered what lay beneath her words.
She expected rejection, and when it did not come, she treated acceptance as something earned rather than given.
His jaw fluttered faintly. What kind of life has she lived?
The question settled heavily in his mind.
What had shaped her into someone who braced for the worst even when surrounded by those who meant her no harm? Who had taught her that kindness required proof before it could be trusted?
The questions swirling in his mind nearly escaped in the moment, but he managed not to ask her about it.
Not here or now anyway.
Instead, he reached out, his hand closing lightly around her wrist, guiding her attention away from the others and back to him.
“Look at me,” he said.
She did, but he could see plainly that there was hesitation there. Though she did not pull away.
“If I thought Ariella would nae accept ye,” he said, his voice steady, leaving no room for doubt, “she would nae be here.”
Iona blinked.
He held her gaze.
“And if me maither had refused ye,” he continued, “I would have sent ye to Ariella instead.”
The words were simple. Practical. Stated as fact rather than reassurance.
Her breath caught slightly.
“Ye would have sent me away?” she asked.
“Aye,” he said. “To where ye would be safe.”
Her eyes searched his face, as though looking for something beyond what he had said.
“Why?” she asked quietly.
The answer came without effort.
“Because it is me duty.”
He did not soften it. Did not dress it in anything more than what it was.
“To ye,” he added. “And to our child.”
The words settled between them.
Iona’s expression relaxed visibly, which surprised him.
He had expected resistance. Expected her to bristle at being spoken of in terms of obligation.
Instead, she seemed steadied by it.
As though duty was something she understood far better than affection.
Her mouth curved then, slow and genuine in a way he had not seen from her before.
“Thank ye,” she said.
The smile that followed was unguarded.
It struck him with more force than he anticipated.
Frederick held her gaze a moment longer than he should have, something shifting beneath the surface of his usual control.
He had seen her smile before.
Quick ones. Careful ones. Ones shaped by politeness or deflection.
This was different.
There was no calculation in it, nor hesitation, just warmth.
His thoughts moved in a direction he did not immediately correct.
He wondered, briefly and without permission, what that smile would feel like against his lips.
The image came too easily.
Too clearly.
He drew in a slow breath, steadying himself before it showed.
That was not where this stood. Nae yet.
He turned his gaze back toward the others, though his awareness of her did not lessen.
Across the room, Jamie laughed at something Maxwell had said, the earlier caution replaced now with open curiosity. Ariella leaned closer again, guiding the boy’s hand back to her belly, while Caitlin watched them both with quiet delight.
Frederick folded his arms loosely, his posture relaxed, though his thoughts remained anything but.
This was what he had intended. To provide them with a place where they would not need to run.
And yet, standing there beside her, with her warmth still lingering too close and her smile still fixed in his mind, he found himself considering something beyond that.
Something else that he had not planned for.
For now, it was enough that she remained where she was, at his side, and that she had not yet chosen to leave.
Sleep did not come easily.
Frederick lay awake longer than he would have admitted, staring into the dark as the castle settled around him. The sounds were familiar. The low creak of old timber. The distant murmur of guards changing posts. The occasional shift of wind against stone. None of it should have disturbed him.
What unsettled him was quieter. Sweeter. More mischievous.
Her smile.
He closed his eyes and saw it again, unguarded and warm, offered without calculation. It lingered in his thoughts with an insistence that did not belong to something so simple.
He turned onto his side, exhaling slowly.
This was not unfamiliar ground. Desire was not new to him. Neither was restraint. He had lived years balancing both without confusion.
This felt different.
It was not only the memory of her mouth or the way she had looked at him in that moment. It was what lay beneath it. The trust that had flickered there, brief but unmistakable, and the way it had settled him.
It was that feeling of being settled that he did not like.
Not because it was unwelcome, but because it was unplanned.
Frederick did not favor unplanned things.
He rose before the sun had fully broken the horizon.
By the time the first light touched the upper towers, he was already dressed and moving through the courtyard, his thoughts sharpened by the cold air and the familiar rhythm of early morning.
It was there that Ariella and Maxwell found him.
They approached together, though Maxwell’s attention never strayed far from his wife. His gaze moved constantly, assessing ground, distance, proximity, as though threat might emerge from stone itself if he failed to anticipate it.
Frederick waited as they drew nearer.
“Ye are awake early,” Ariella observed.
“I am always awake early,” he replied.
She watched him in silence for a moment, then smiled faintly. “Aye. But ye are thinking more than usual.”
Maxwell snorted softly. “That is because he has more to think about.”
Frederick gestured toward the path that circled the outer grounds. “Walk?”
They fell into step without further comment.
For a time, the conversation remained where it always did between men who understood responsibility.
Land.
Resources.
The coming winter.
Maxwell spoke of road conditions beyond the eastern ridge, of a stretch of ground that had grown unstable after heavy rain. Frederick made note of it, committing the detail to memory. Lennox would need to send men to assess it. Repairs now would prevent larger problems later.
“The southern boundary remains quiet,” Maxwell added. “Nay movement worth noting. Though that may nae last.”
“It rarely does,” Frederick said.
Maxwell glanced at him then, his expression sharpening slightly. “I heard there was trouble near your border recently.”
Frederick did not slow. “There was.”
“Aye,” Maxwell said. “And the woman?”
“Still missing.”
Maxwell’s teeth set hard. “And the men responsible?”
“One escaped.”
That was enough to shift the tone.
Maxwell’s gaze darkened. “That is nay small matter.”
“Nay,” Frederick agreed.
They walked in silence for several paces before Maxwell spoke again.
“The woman in yer house,” he said. “She fears something specific?”
Frederick’s attention shifted. “She has a reason,” he said slowly, wishing he could say more but knowing there was nothing more he could say.
“Then ye need to ken what that reason is,” Maxwell replied.
Frederick did not answer immediately.
He had already come to the same conclusion.
“I will speak with Lennox,” he said at last. “We will extend the search beyond the initial trail. If there is a pattern, we will find it.”
Maxwell nodded once. “Good, and ye will ask me for help. Ye ken Kian will be able to help as well, and Kayden.”
Frederick made a mental note then, more firmly than before. His family ties stretched nearly the entire highlands. He should rely on their resources as much as his own. This would not remain a loose thread. Not with Iona’s fear as sharp as it was. Not with a man already having escaped.
“I will have the hounds sent farther along the border,” he added. “And I will request reports from every village within a day’s ride.”
Maxwell glanced at him with approval. “That is how it should be handled.”
The conversation shifted then, the weight of it easing as they continued along the path.
Frederick turned his attention to Ariella.
“Ye should nae be walking this distance,” he said.
She rolled her eyes. “If ye begin as well, I shall return inside and refuse to speak to either of ye.”
Maxwell made a small sound of agreement. “She has already refused me twice this morning.”
“Because ye are insufferable,” Ariella replied.
Frederick ignored that. “How are ye doing with the bairn, sister?” he asked instead.
“Perfectly well,” she said at once.
“That is nae an answer.”
“It is the only one ye are getting.”
He watched her for a moment, recognizing the deflection for what it was.
She smiled, entirely unbothered.
Then, without warning, her gaze sharpened.
“I am more interested in ye,” she said.
He stilled slightly. “There is nothin’ of interest.”
“Aye,” she said. “That is what concerns me.”
Maxwell huffed quietly. “This will nae end well.”
Ariella ignored him.
“Ye have brought a woman into yer home,” she continued. “Ye have claimed a child as yer own. Ye have done everything except the one thing that would make sense of it.”
Frederick sighed before finally admitting, “I have already proposed, but—”
Ariella stopped walking.
And then she began to laugh with her entire body, tears in the corners of her eyes formed quickly with each gasping breath she took, trying to steady herself.
Maxwell looked away, though his shoulders shifted as though he fought the same reaction.
Frederick did not find it amusing.
“Ye were refused?” Ariella managed between breaths.
“Aye.”
That only made it worse.
She laughed harder, one hand bracing against Maxwell’s arm as though she might lose her balance entirely.
“I am glad,” she said at last, wiping at her eyes. “It was needed.”
Frederick’s expression did not change. “Ye find this entertaining.”
“I find it appropriate,” she corrected.
He exhaled slowly, already turning to leave.
“Frederick.”
He paused.
Ariella’s tone had shifted again.
“Ye should court her. A proposal without any meaning behind it just tells the lass that it is a marriage for duty. Nae that she needs love, but perhaps she needs interest. She has made it this far without ye… give her a reason… or a few reasons.”
He frowned slightly. “I have nay need for games.”
“It is nae a game,” she said. “It is what should have come before the proposal.”
He considered that.
“I offered her security,” he said.
“Aye,” Ariella replied. “And she refused it. That should tell ye something.”
“That she is stubborn.”
“That she does nae trust what has nae been earned.”
The words settled.
Frederick looked ahead, his thoughts shifting as he considered them.
Court her.
He had approached Iona as he approached everything else. Directly. Without ornament.
And he had failed miserably.
He did not like it, but he also could not deny the truth of it.
Behind him, Ariella smiled. “I think,” she said lightly, “that this will be far more interesting than I expected. Do keep us apprised of any… further attempts, braither,” she finished jokingly, sharing another laugh with Maxwell, but Frederick just rolled his eyes.
As they turned back toward the keep, his thoughts had already begun to spin and plot, and that, in itself, was a shift he could not ignore.