Chapter 24
Life moved as it had always done every morning in the courtyard.
The routine of it all made speaking easier, though Alex did not like that it did. He had been speaking to his grandmother for the past few minutes about his arrangement with Erica, finally deciding to come clean after weeks of keeping it all to himself.
He watched the twins tear across the courtyard with shrieks that cut the air clean.
Bettie darted behind a low pole and popped out again with triumph bright on her face.
Katie, on the other hand, chased hard, caught her sister’s sleeve, then lost it when a loose ribbon slipped free.
They circled back toward Alex, both talking at once, their hands flying and their voices hot with pleas.
“Come play with us, Da,” they demanded.
“Next time,” he said for the third time, palm lifted. “Ye will run me into the ground.”
They both groaned, and for a second, he thought they would drag him out of his seat. Instead, they spun away and sprinted for the shade of a fig tree, where other children had started a game that somehow involved pebbles.
Grandmamma sat near him in a carved chair, cane set across her knees, eyes sharp and pleased. The late morning light cast a mild warmth over the yard, and a clink sounded somewhere beyond the arch, where a lone guard was checking his kit.
“It was only meant to last a month,” Alex said.
Grandmamma looked at him without surprise, the corners of her mouth curled up as if she had heard him long before he spoke. She did not rush him.
“She needed protection,” he went on, “and ye ken the council was pestering me to take a wife. I needed that to stop as well. It was meant to be uncomplicated.”
“And now?” Grandmamma asked softly.
He watched the girls link hands and spin until they staggered. “Now, feelings are involved.”
Grandmamma’s hum carried no scolding. “Love comes from the places we least expect.”
He snorted. “Aye, I have heard the songs.”
She cocked her head. “This isnae a song.”
He rubbed his thumb over a callus at the base of his sword hand.
“It was a clean thing at the start. A bargain. A month to settle the yard and shut mouths. Then she would go home safer than she came. I keep me word, so I intend to keep this one as well. I like plans that I can control, Grandmamma. Ye ken this very well.”
“But this plan has begun to control ye,” Grandmamma noted.
He gave her a sidelong look. “Why do I have the feeling that ye kent all of this before today?”
“Why do ye think the girls locked ye in the library?” She did not hide the pride in her voice.
His brows rose. “That was ye?”
“Me dear,” she said, easing one hand to her cane as if it were a scepter, “I am an old woman. Age gives me advantages ye daenae ken how to defend against.”
He gave a dry breath of a laugh. “I will remember to guard the nursery door.”
“Please daenae,” she said. “The castle needs a little mischief. It keeps blood moving.”
Across the yard, Bettie tripped. Katie grabbed her elbow and held her up until the wobble passed. Both girls looked over to make sure he had seen, as if approval were part of the game. He lifted two fingers in a small salute. They answered with grins that flashed and vanished.
Grandmamma followed his gaze. “Ye do well by them.”
“I try,” he said.
“Trying is work that turns into a habit and then becomes yer life.” She rested her cane again. “Do ye want this life with the lass in it, or do ye want the look of it without the risk?”
He felt the question in his stomach. “I can protect her. I can protect the castle.”
“That isnae what I asked.”
He kept his eyes on the paving stones, on the line where the sun broke across them. “I cannae love again, Grandmaither. Ye ken that.”
Grandmamma watched the twins whirl. “Ye said cannae. Ye didnae say willnae.”
He did not take the bait. “It is the same for me.”
“For ye, perhaps,” she said. “For her, it may nae be.”
A boy jogged up with a jug of watered ale and two simple cups. Grandmamma thanked him and poured. Alex took his with a nod and drank, grateful for the respite.
“She thinks ye are kind,” Grandmamma said.
He set the cup on the flagging beside the chair. “I am nae kind.”
“Then ye do a fine job of pretending,” Grandmamma said. “Kindness is sometimes a man keeping his temper when losing it would be easier.”
Alex let that sink in.
The twins had moved on to teaching the other children how to throw stones in a neat arc. Bettie showed first, missed, tried again, then set her jaw and landed it. Katie clapped like she had won a war.
“She does well with them as well,” Grandmamma added, and there was no mistaking who she meant now.
“Aye,” he said. His voice wanted to thicken, but he kept it clear. “They have taken to her.”
“Because she listens,” Grandmamma said. “Because she doesnae treat them like a task. Or even like toddlers.”
Silence stretched. Alex could feel her steer the conversation without moving a muscle.
“So, by the end of the month, she has to leave?” she asked.
He worked his tongue against the back of his teeth. “Aye. That has always been the plan.”
“But that is nay longer the case, is it?” Grandmamma repeated. “Alex, do ye really want her to leave?”
“I daenae. But a promise is a promise, Grandmaither,” he said. “If I give more, I lie to her with me hands. If I keep less, I lie to her with me word.”
Grandmamma looked pleased with the neatness of that, then less pleased when she understood what it cost. “So ye plan to starve every sweet thing out of it. Starve it until it can be tucked away.”
He did not answer, which was answer enough.
Grandmamma leaned forward a little. “When ye were away at war, I watched another woman stand in this yard with children. I wished that I had done more before the vows were spoken. Duty can be a fine word that hides the worst choices a man will ever make.”
He stiffened. “I willnae have this yard spoken of with her at the center of it.”
“Ye kissed her. Tradition requires that ye get married,” Grandmamma reminded him. “But I thought ye were doing so because the love between ye has manifested itself. Now I can see that is nae the case.”
Bettie came racing back, breathless, to press a stone into Grandmamma’s palm as if it were a jewel from a treasure hunt.
The older woman admired it as if it truly were one.
Katie then leaned into Alex’s side for a moment, head just touching his hip, then sprang away when Bettie called her back to the game.
Lady Bryden appeared at that moment and crossed beneath the arch, a tray tucked into the crook of her arm with a small towel covering it. She set it on a bench, uncovered a batch of small oatcakes, and held it out to the children.
“Share, but daenae spoil yer supper,” she warned, her voice clear.
Then she turned to Alex and Grandmamma, her eyes sharp with inquiry.
“Good morning, me Laird,” she said. “Is everything all right? Ye both look solemn, like ye’ve had a terrible day.”
“I had worse,” he said.
“That is nae denial,” she said, and gave Grandmamma a conspiratorial smile. “I like him.”
“He grows on ye rather quickly, does he nae?” Grandmamma said. “He’s like ivy.”
Alex laughed. “I will take that as a compliment.”
Lady Bryden stayed for a moment, watching the girls play with a soft pride that sat easily on her face.
“They love to play, do they nae?” she said. “At least within the limits anyway. Ye seem to have done a good job with them, me Laird.”
Alex felt the praise notch against something in his chest. “They do as they are told.”
“Aye,” she said. “They also do as they are loved.”
Grandmamma’s eyes warmed at that. “Sit for a bit,” she said, patting the bench beside her. “Tell us what ye think of our gardens. Our gardener thinks we are doing a poor job.”
Lady Bryden sat down. “I do think some work needs to be done,” she admitted. “But the beds are well-kept.”
“Thanks to a new pair of hands,” Grandmamma said meaningfully.
Lady Bryden smiled. “Aye. Me daughter doesnae like to be idle.”
Alex kept his mouth shut. He did not trust himself to speak. He picked up his cup again and drank.
Lady Bryden glanced toward the girls with a fond squint as conversation stirred between the three of them.
“Is it just me, or is their hair getting redder by the day?”
Alex blinked.
Lady Bryden turned to him again, her eyes bright with questions. “Their maither must have had red hair, aye?”
His throat tightened. The sun, so easy on his skin a moment ago, felt like it had moved behind the clouds. He set the empty cup on the table with care.
“I have to get back to work,” he said, already turning from the bench.
He did not wait for Grandmamma’s reply. He just crossed the yard with a steady stride and took the shaded arch that led to the inner stairs, leaving the laughter to ring on behind him.
He could only relax when the passageway to his study came into view.
Later that night, Erica lay still in her bed, willing sleep to come. Instead, all she felt was a stillness that felt like a weight.
Sleep would not come. She knew better than to keep trying. So instead, she sat up, swung her feet to the floor, and wrapped her shawl close.
The fire had burned low, and the room had the hush of a held breath. She reached for the door, then paused, thinking of Leah. The maid rose early, worked through the day, and listened more than anyone should have to. It would be cruel to wake her at this hour.
Erica gently opened the door and left her in peace.
The passageway held a thin stretch of light from guttering torches, and the air felt cold on her cheeks. She moved without a plan, quickly enough to keep the knot in her chest from tightening. She turned toward the nursery before she knew it.
Inside, the twins were sprawled in a perfect tangle, one half off the cot and the other with an arm thrown over the other’s stomach as if to anchor her to the bed. The nurse sat by the screen with her embroidery, head rising when the door creaked.