Chapter 24 #2
Once, strange eyes and dark corners would have had her counting exits and measuring distance and wondering which smile concealed harm. Once, even joy would have felt like a trap left open too easily.
Now she stood in Frederick’s arms while the music moved around them, and all she felt was warmth.
He had one hand at her waist, the other clasping hers. Solid. Certain. There was strength in him, always, but tonight it settled around her like a wall that did not confine, only held. She could feel his steadiness the way one feels a hearth at the back in winter.
She trusted the people in this room.
The realization moved through her so quietly that at first she almost missed it.
Caitlin laughing. Erin, insulting someone fondly.
Lennox, enduring it. Jamie, darting back with flushed cheeks and grass still somehow at the hem of her gown.
The servants smiling openly when they looked her way.
No one waiting to drag happiness from her hands.
No threat in the dark corners. No danger in the eyes that met hers.
Iona turned her face slightly toward Frederick and breathed in.
He looked down at once. “What is it?”
She shook her head, though her smile remained.
“Nothin’,” she said softly. “Only… I am glad.”
His hand tightened just slightly at her waist.
“Aye,” he said. “So am I.”
And as the music swelled again and the room carried on around them, the gladness stayed. Warm and full and astonishingly free of fear.
“Ye are near falling asleep on yer feet, lass.”
“I am nae,” Jamie protested, though the yawn that followed betrayed her at once.
Caitlin reached for her hand with a knowing smile. “Aye, ye are. And if ye mean to rise tomorrow without grumbling, ye will come along with me now.”
“I can stay a little longer.”
“Nay, ye cannae.”
Jamie looked between them, clearly searching for an ally. Her gaze landed on Iona, wide and hopeful.
“Please?”
Iona softened, brushing a hand over her daughter’s hair. “It has been a long day, lamb. Ye have danced enough for three people.”
“And I have nae even fallen yet,” Jamie said, as though that were an argument in her favor.
“That is because I have been watching ye too closely to allow it,” Caitlin replied, already guiding her toward the door.
Jamie hesitated just long enough to turn back toward Frederick. “Will ye come say goodnight later?”
Frederick stepped closer, his expression gentler than Iona had ever seen it in a crowded room. “I will see ye in the morn, lass. Ye have had a full day.”
Jamie considered that, then nodded with the seriousness she reserved for moments she deemed important. “Aye. Goodnight then.”
“Goodnight,” Iona said softly.
“Goodnight, me wee trouble,” Erin added from her seat, earning herself a look of mock offense from the child.
“I am nae trouble.”
“Ye are exactly trouble.”
Jamie huffed, though she smiled as Caitlin led her from the hall, her small hand disappearing into her grandmother’s grasp as the door closed behind them.
The room felt quieter all at once.
The edges of the celebration had begun to soften. Voices lowered. Movements slowed. The musicians had set aside their instruments, and the last of the laughter drifted more gently through the space.
Iona stood still for a moment, her eyes lingering on the place where Jamie had just been, then slowly turned to find Frederick had been watching her. He was far more focused on her, and his heated stare settled over her slowly, almost reaching through her skin rather than touching it.
Her breath caught before she could stop it.
He saw it.
Of course he did.
“Ye are tired,” he said, though his voice had shifted, lower, closer.
“A little,” she answered, though the truth felt more complicated than that.
He stepped nearer to her with intention. The space between them closed without effort, and suddenly the room that had held so many people felt far too large for anyone but the two of them.
“Shall we go as well?” He asked softly.
She nodded quietly and let him guide her through the crowd.
The walk to their chamber passed in quiet.
The corridors had emptied, the torches along the walls casting steady light that flickered just enough to make shadows move gently rather than loom.
Iona was aware of every step, every shift of fabric, every moment of silence that seemed to stretch just long enough to become something else entirely.
Her thoughts began to wander again to what came next. She could see it now approaching with each step.
When they reached his chamber, Frederick opened the door and stepped aside for her.
She entered first, her gaze moving automatically through the room, cataloguing the armchairs, sitting table, writing desk, and curtains blocking the windows.
In the far corner, there was an open door, where she could see bright white bed sheets already turned down.
The hearth burned low with embers, throwing shapes against the dark floor as the door closed behind them, and she turned.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Frederick moved.
He crossed the room with a kind of restraint that did not lessen the urgency beneath it. When he reached her, he did not hesitate. His hands found her, one at her waist, the other at her shoulder, drawing her toward him with a certainty that made her breath falter.
“Iona,” he said, her name low in his throat before his lips found hers.
Her hands lifted to him without thought, finding the solid line of his shoulders, the warmth beneath the fabric, the reality of him that had grounded her again and again.
She moaned softly into his mouth.
The kiss that followed was nothing like the hurried, uncertain moments they had shared before. There was no fear here. No fear pressing in at the edges. No urgency born of intoxication or desperation. Only them. Only the certainty of what had been chosen.
Her body softened into his as though it had always known where it belonged. When his hands moved, they did so with care that did not lessen their intent, guiding her closer, drawing her fully into the warmth of him.
Time lost its edges.
Each touch felt deliberate as he pulled her up into his arms and walked into the bedroom.
Frederick set her down and carefully undressed her, kissing every place his hands had touched her bare skin, until finally he knelt in front of her.
Her navel was in his line of sight as he slid the last flimsy piece of silken fabric from her body, and he left a trail of kisses down her navel to her core and then all the way back up to her mouth with a painfully slow pace.
Iona did not have enough wherewithal to realize that he had undressed himself, but he was now standing in front her, bare chested, bare-armed, bare-bodied, bare everything.
His lips felt new as they touched hers, his hands felt new as they wrapped around her, and the newness was completely intoxicating.
Frederick guided her back onto his bed and positioned himself above her before he straightened briefly. His eye meeting hers with a quiet questioning expression.
Iona’s hands lifted to his face, and she pulled him down in reply.
Their movements found a natural rhythm as Frederick guided them with care.
She felt the warmth of him, the steadiness, the way he seemed to learn from her even in the silence.
He was adjusting, listening, meeting her where she was when she needed him to be there.
He buried himself into her deeply in a way that she had not remembered happening between them before. He thrust into her again and again with careful but relentless pace, and she felt the heat in her core rise to heights she had never experienced before.
This was all so new. So — “Good Christ above, Frederick— Please, please daenae stop—” Iona heard the words left from her but had no awareness that she had said them.
Her breath dragged as she gripped his shoulders, lifting her hips toward him, and he responded in kind with an almost punishing rhythm until finally she felt her entire body almost lift off the bed.
Her moans were smothered by his mouth crashing into hers as his hips continued to dig, continued to coax it out of her, continued until he finally found his release as well.
When it was over, Iona lay still beside him, her breath slowing, her thoughts returning in soft, uneven waves. The room was quiet again, the fire remained a low simmer, and she turned her head slightly, looking at him.
Husband.
The word settled over her with warmth and a lovely tingling sensation that she could now only relate to the intimacy that they had just shared.
Her chest tightened slightly, then with an uncertainty she had not anticipated. Duty had been enough before tonight. It had been safe. It had kept her and Jamie safe. Dut was clear and predictable. But now duty felt… insufficient.
Because ye love him ye daft fool.
The realization came quietly, without drama, and yet it settled with a weight that made her stomach clench all the same.
She shifted slightly, her gaze dropping, her thoughts turning inward.
Should she leave? Was this where the night ended?
Where closeness gave way again to distance, to separate spaces, to the quiet understanding that what had been shared belonged to obligation rather than something deeper.
Had this been just duty for him as well?
She drew a heavy breath, not willing to find out the answers to any of her questions, and then began to pull away.
Frederick’s hand closed around her wrist suddenly, but not tightly or restraining. Just enough to stop her. “Stay,” he said.
The word was simple, but it held something that caught her entirely off guard.
She looked at his hand wrapped around her wrist and then back up to meet his gaze. It was steady and unburdened by the weight of obligation, but instead with something awfully close to admiration and desire.
Her heart jumped into her throat. She tried swallowing it down but felt a sharp lump in her throat, so she nodded instead and settled back beside him.
This time, when he drew her closer, it was not with urgency but with a quiet ease that allowed her to rest fully against him.
His arm came around her, solid and warm, anchoring her in place without effort.
Iona closed her eyes, and her thoughts quieted as he lazily traced circles on her bare hip. And for the first time, she did not question what came next.
They slept that night as they had come together. Without fear. Without distance. Held close, as though neither of them had any desire to be anywhere else.