Chapter 15
Morning came softer than the night had allowed her to expect.
Iona entered the dining hall with Jamie at her side, her gaze moving instinctively to the far end of the table where Frederick had sat the day before. The place was empty. The absence struck her before she could stop herself from noticing it.
Caitlin looked up at once, her expression warm. “Good mornin’.”
“Good mornin’,” Iona replied, guiding Jamie toward the table.
“Frederick has already been taken from us,” Caitlin continued, a hint of amusement in her tone.
“He, Lennox, and Maxwell have shut themselves away in the study. Clan matters, I expect. They will emerge only when they have argued themselves in circles and decided they have solved something important… or when it is time for Maxwell and Ariella to depart.”
Jamie climbed onto the bench. “Will they fight?”
“Nay,” Caitlin said. “At least nae with swords. Nae this early in the day.”
Iona allowed herself a small smile as she took her seat, though her attention lingered on the idea of him behind closed doors, deep in discussion, fully in his element.
It reminded her, uncomfortably, of the parts of his life she did not yet understand.
The parts that had nothing to do with her, or Jamie, or the strange, shifting ground between them.
Jamie reached for a piece of bread, already distracted. “Can we go see the dogs again?”
“After ye eat,” Iona said.
Ariella entered not long after, Maxwell’s absence noticeable in the way her gaze flicked briefly around the room before settling. She greeted Caitlin, then smiled at Jamie, who returned it with unguarded enthusiasm.
Iona watched her for a moment. There was something about Ariella that put others at ease without effort. It was not softness, not entirely. There was strength there too, quiet but steady, as though she had learned how to hold both without conflict.
An idea came to Iona then, sudden but not unwelcome.
“Would ye like to see the healer’s garden?” she asked, knowing full well that Ariella had grown up there, but had not quite seen all of the improvements that Erin had already made to it.
Ariella’s brows lifted slightly. “I would.”
Jamie brightened immediately. “There are plants that smell terrible.”
“There are plants that heal,” Iona corrected.
“They smell terrible first,” Jamie insisted.
Caitlin laughed softly. “Go on, then. It will do ye good to be out before the men return and begin pacing the halls as though the world depends on their next decision.”
They left the hall together, stepping out into the morning air that carried the faint sweetness of growing things.
The path to the healer’s garden curved along the inner wall before opening into a quieter space set apart from the main grounds.
It was smaller than the rest of the estate, enclosed by low stone and carefully tended.
Rows of herbs and flowering plants spread in neat lines, their scents mingling in the air.
Erin was already there.
She stood near one of the beds, sleeves rolled and hands deep in the soil, as though the earth itself might yield answers if she worked it long enough. She glanced up as they approached, her gaze sharpening briefly before recognition softened it.
“So ye have found me,” she said. “And brought company.”
“Aye,” Iona replied. “This is Lady Ariella.”
Erin inclined her head, not overly formal but respectful. “Then ye are welcome.”
“And this must be the healer I have heard so much about,” Ariella said.
Erin gave a small huff. “I have nae done enough to earn that much talk.”
Jamie had already begun drifting toward the far side of the garden, drawn by something unseen.
“Daenae stray too far,” Iona called.
“I will nae,” Jamie replied, already halfway there.
Erin wiped her hands on a cloth. “I will keep an eye on the bairn,” she said. “There is a patch beyond that might hold interest.”
Jamie did not need to be told twice.
Within moments, Erin had guided the child away, leaving Iona and Ariella alone among the rows of green and growing things.
For a time, neither spoke.
Iona moved slowly along one of the beds, brushing her fingers lightly over the leaves of a plant she recognized. The scent rose sharp and clean beneath her touch.
Ariella watched her.
“I wished to speak with ye,” she said at last.
Iona stilled, then nodded. “I thought as much.”
“I would rather ye hear things plainly than piece them together through half-truths,” Ariella continued. “It is easier that way.”
Iona turned slightly to face her. “Then speak plainly.”
“I hear,” Ariella said, her tone turning just slightly mischievous, “that ye refused me brother.”
Iona’s fingers stalled on a petal she had been inspecting, but she hummed in agreement once.
Ariella watched her for a beat, then laughed softly. “Good.”
Iona blinked. “Good?”
“Aye,” Ariella said. “It was time someone brought him down a peg.”
A laugh escaped Iona before she could stop it, and the sound surprised her.
“Go on then, and let it out! I made sure to laugh at him the entire way back to the keep from the stables when I found out. Maxwell couldnae contain hisself either!”
Iona let herself join Ariella, who was apparently her second round of laughter on the topic.
“He did nae seem particularly humbled,” Iona admitted.
“Nay,” Ariella agreed. “He rarely is. But I am certain it unsettled him more than he cares to admit.”
That, Iona could believe.
Ariella’s expression softened then, losing its teasing edge. “As I said, he is a hard man, but he is a good man.”
“I reckon I believe ye.”
“Good! Now, my second order of business is to tell ye that we have a cousin. Skylar. She is Lady Strathcairn, but to family, she is just Skylar.”
The name meant nothing to Iona, but she listened all the same.
“She became the healer for her clan,” Ariella said. “Nae by birth, but by hard work and dedication. She taught herself when she could, learned from whoever had time to teach, studied the books of the masters, and made herself indispensable in ways that did nae always sit easily with others.”
Iona’s brow furrowed slightly. “That sounds familiar.”
“Aye,” Ariella said. “It should.”
She shifted her weight, one hand resting lightly against the curve of her stomach.
“I was nae a strong child,” she continued. “There were years when it was uncertain whether I would grow at all as I should. Skylar…changed that. She tended me when others could nae. She taught me how to endure what frightened me. Without her, I would nae be standing here now.”
Iona absorbed that quietly. “And Frederick?”
Ariella’s expression softened, though there was something heavier beneath it.
“He does nae forget such things,” she said. “He does nae forget who nearly lost what he could nae bear to lose. Nor who kept it from happening.”
Iona felt something shift at that.
“He carries it still,” Ariella added. “Even now.”
Iona looked down at the plants again, though her thoughts had moved elsewhere.
“And why are ye telling me this?” she asked.
Ariella stepped closer, her voice gentler now.
“Because ye look at him and see the laird,” she said. “The man who makes decisions, who commands, who holds everything together because he must.”
Iona’s fingers stilled against the leaves.
“But that is nae all he is,” Ariella continued. “There is a man beneath that. One who learned too early that if he did nae carry everything, nay one else would. One who does nae always know how to set that burden down, even when he should.”
Iona lifted her gaze.
Ariella met it steadily.
“He will nae tell ye this himself,” she said. “He does nae speak of such things. But if ye are to stand near him, ye should ken it.”
Silence settled between them again.
Eventually, Ariella glanced toward the courtyard, then back to Iona. “I should return,” she said. “Maxwell will be waiting, I expect.”
Iona nodded, though her thoughts had not yet caught up with her.
Ariella smiled once more, softer now. “We will see each other again. I am sure of it.”
Then she turned, leaving Iona standing among the growing things, the scent of herbs rising around her as the morning stretched on.
The garden did not feel the same once Ariella turned away.
Iona remained where she stood for a moment longer, her fingers brushing absently over the leaves nearest her, though she no longer registered their scent or shape.
The words Ariella had spoken remained planted in her mind, settling into places she had kept carefully guarded. She had thought she understood the man Frederick was. She had believed she could measure him by what he showed, by what he said, by the way he carried himself with unshakable certainty.
Now she was not so certain of her own understanding.
From the far end of the garden, Jamie’s laughter broke through her thoughts, bright and unrestrained. Erin’s voice followed, steady and amused, as she guided the child through whatever small discovery had captured attention.
Iona exhaled slowly and turned toward them.
“We should return,” she said, more to herself than to anyone else.
Erin glanced up as they approached. “Already?”
“Aye,” Iona replied. “They will be preparing to leave.”
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 men preparing 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.
Iona’s stomach clenched, a hollow ache forming beneath her ribs as though she had swallowed something too heavy to bear.
Erin’s hand found hers then, firm and grounding, the pressure of it a silent acknowledgment that she had seen it too.
The moment passed as quickly as it had come.
Jamie blinked, the uncertainty folding in on itself as the carriage door was opened and movement resumed around them. The child stepped back, already shifting toward something easier, something lighter.
Ariella embraced Caitlin first, then turned to Iona.
“I wish ye well, Iona. It was a pleasure to get to know ye. Thank ye for yer hospitality,” she said softly.
Iona nodded. “Aye, it was me pleasure.”
There was more that could have been said, but the words did not come.
Maxwell inclined his head to Frederick, then to the others, before assisting Ariella into the carriage with careful attention.
The door closed.
The horses shifted.
And then they were gone.
The courtyard seemed larger in their absence.
Iona remained where she stood, her gaze fixed on the space where the carriage had been, though she no longer saw it.
“I will take the bairn to the yard,” Erin said gently beside her.
Iona nodded without turning. “Aye.”
Jamie did not wait for further instruction. “I want to race,” the child declared, already moving toward the open space beyond the courtyard.
Erin followed, her presence steady as ever.
Iona remained in the silence for a moment, and then the stillness broke.
The ache in her chest did not lessen. It sharpened instead, shaping itself into something far more dangerous than fear.
Determination.
She had delayed long enough and had allowed too many things to remain unspoken. And now, the cost of that silence had made itself known.
Iona turned without hesitation and moved toward the keep, her steps quickening as she crossed the threshold and made for the stairs that would lead her to Frederick’s study.
She did not pause to reconsider.
By the time she reached the corridor, her pulse had steadied into something resolute.
This willnae wait any longer.