Chapter 23 #2
She let out a small, impatient huff, but there was more delight than disappointment in it.
Her steps had changed since they left the stables.
There was a spring to them now, a restlessness not born of nerves but of pleasure.
She looked over her shoulder once, as though checking that Storm had not somehow followed them, then hurried to match Frederick’s longer stride again.
“She likes me,” Jamie said.
“Aye,” Frederick replied. “She tolerated ye well enough.”
Jamie frowned up at him. “That is nae the same thing.”
“It is the beginning of the same thing.”
She thought about that for a few paces, then nodded as though granting the point by choice rather than necessity.
They might have taken the direct path back to the keep.
Frederick did not. Instead, when they reached the point where the gravel way split, he turned toward the narrower trail that ran along the outer edge of the orchard and down toward the lower rise beyond it.
Jamie slowed slightly. “This is nae the way back.”
“Nay,” he said.
“Then where are we going?”
“Somewhere quiet.”
That seemed to satisfy her for the moment.
The path narrowed as they walked, the grass brushing at their boots where the servants had not trimmed it closely, the trees above them breaking the light into pale, moving bands.
The farther they went, the less of the keep could be heard.
No voices from the courtyard. No clatter from the kitchens.
Only birds in the branches and the soft sound of their own steps.
The pond came into view slowly, almost all at once after the turn of a thicket.
It was not large. Only a still, sheltered pool bordered by reeds and low stone, fed by a narrow trickle of water from farther up the rise.
A willow leaned over one side, its branches trailing close enough to the surface that the tips brushed it when the wind came through.
Frederick stopped there, where the bank widened just enough for two people to stand without slipping.
Jamie looked around, wide-eyed. “I have never been here.”
“Nay,” he said. “Most have nae.”
She moved closer to the edge of the water, then caught herself and glanced back as though remembering she had once been warned not to fling herself toward ponds like a creature with no sense. Frederick noticed the effort and hid the smile that nearly followed.
“It is all right,” he said. “Ye may stand there. Only daenae lean too far in.”
Jamie nodded solemnly and obeyed, peering down at the water where the willow’s reflection trembled faintly.
“What is this place?” she asked.
“This is me place.”
She turned from the pond to him at once. “Yer favorite one?”
Frederick rested one hand against the trunk of the willow and looked over the water. “When I was a lad, I came here when the keep grew too full. Or too loud. Or when I didnae wish to be found for a little while.”
Jamie’s eyes widened. “Did they look for ye?”
“Often.”
“Did they find ye?”
“Never once.”
That seemed to please her greatly.
“Then why are ye showing me?”
The question was simple. Direct. He had been waiting for it.
Frederick looked at her fully then. She stood with wind-tossed hair, dirt on her cuff, and more hope in her face than he was entirely prepared to answer.
He had thought about the words on the walk back from the stables.
Adjusted them once or twice in his mind.
Rejected any phrasing that sounded too grand, too ornamental, too much like something borrowed from a chapel when what he meant belonged more properly to the life they were building than to any formal prayer.
“Because I wish ye to ken it,” he said at last. “And because a man doesnae share a place like this with someone unless he means to keep them close. And because I wish for ye to use this place whenever ye wish, but only if ye promise nae to tell anyone.”
Jamie went still.
The child understood more than she ought, more than most gave her credit for. He had learned that quickly enough.
He stepped toward the bank and bent to pull a long green blade of marsh grass from the edge where it grew thicker. It came free with a soft, damp whisper, longer than his forearm, strong enough not to tear when he tested it lightly between his fingers. Jamie watched at once, all curiosity.
“What are ye doing?”
“I am going to show ye something.”
She came nearer, careful this time around the pond’s edge, and crouched when he did. Frederick folded the grass in half, then crossed one end over the other.
“At the wedding tomorrow,” he said, keeping his voice even, “yer maither and I will be bound by handfasting knot before the vows are spoken. It is old custom. Older than the kirk in some places. The knot is nae magic, whatever some fools may say. It is a promise made plain enough that every person present can see it.”
Jamie watched his hands intently. “Can I learn it?”
“Aye, lass. I will show ye.”
He guided the grass through the first loop slowly enough for her to follow, then paused and handed one end to her.
“Hold that.”
She did, tongue caught briefly at the corner of her mouth in concentration.
“This part crosses here,” he said. “Then under. Then back through.”
Jamie frowned. “That seems like cheating.”
“It is only cheating if it slips.”
“That is fair.”
He adjusted her fingers once, then let her pull the loop where it needed to go. The knot took shape between them, small and green and surprisingly neat for a first attempt. Jamie looked absurdly pleased by it.
“I did that.”
“Aye,” Frederick said. “Ye did.”
He sat back on his heels for a moment, the finished knot resting lightly across his palm.
Then he looked at her again and saw, with unwelcome clarity, how much this mattered.
Not because of the knot itself. Because she was waiting.
Because some part of her knew he had not brought her here only for a lesson.
He chose his words with care.
“Jamie,” he said.
She straightened a little, still holding one trailing end of the grass.
“At the wedding tomorrow, I will take yer mother as me wife. But there is something else I mean to do, and I would rather ask ye plain than let it pass as though it were assumed.”
Her eyes fixed on his face.
He took the free end of the grass back and began to twist it around the knot, strengthening the small loop it had made until it resembled a simple bracelet.
“I mean to protect ye for the rest of yer life,” he said. “To claim ye openly as me child. Nae because I must. Nae because it is convenient. Because it is what I want, if ye will have me.”
The pond went very still.
So did she.
Frederick did not rush the silence that followed. He let it stand. Let her feel the weight of what had been said without trying to ease it or adorn it. A child knew when grown people hid important things behind too many soft words.
Jamie’s mouth parted slightly. “As… truly?”
“Aye,” he said. “As truly.”
Her brows drew in, not with doubt exactly, but with the effort of understanding something larger than herself. “Even when I am troublesome?”
He almost laughed. “Especially then.”
“And if I do things wrong?”
“Ye will,” he said. “So will I.”
That seemed to help her more than perfect reassurance would have.
He finished the bracelet and held it out to her on his palm. The green knot sat at its center, small but sturdy, the woven grass wrapped tight enough to last a day or two if handled kindly.
“Will ye have it,” he asked, “and me with it.”
Jamie did not answer in words.
She launched herself at him with enough force that he had to shift back on one knee to keep them both from toppling into the bank. Her arms went hard around his neck. The bracelet bent awkwardly between them until he caught it and lifted it clear at the last second.
Frederick laughed then, properly laughed, the sound leaving him before he could temper it into something quieter or more dignified. He wrapped one arm around her and held her close, her whole small body vibrating with fierce, uncontained joy.
“Aye, Da,” she whispered into his shoulder. “Thank ye so much!”
He closed his eyes once, only for a moment, and let himself feel the truth of the child in his arms and the answering certainty it stirred in him.
When he finally drew back, he kept both hands at her shoulders and held her at arm’s length just far enough to see her face. She was beaming, eyes bright, cheeks flushed, grass and all.
“Come, lass,” he said, fitting the bracelet gently around her wrist. “Let us head back up to the castle to meet yer maither.”
Jamie looked down at the bracelet with something like awe, then thrust her hand into his without hesitation.
They walked back together that way, hand in hand, the keep rising ahead of them in the late afternoon light.