Chapter 36
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Aaron turned sharply at the sound of Scarlett’s voice, his hand falling away from the horse’s neck.
He had not expected to see anyone so early in the morning, let alone his sister.
“Scarlett.”
She stopped near the stable doors, wrapped in a heavy cloak that overestimated the morning chill. The gray light of dawn caught the tips of her hair, as though she had not just woken up from sleep. A folded saddle blanket rested loosely in her arms.
“Are ye goin’ somewhere?” Aaron asked.
She ignored the question, stepping closer to him. Her gaze moved over him once, lingering on his rolled sleeves and his left hand.
She nodded, stepping into the stables.
“I came to see Sirius before the whole village arrives for the harvest festival,” she said softly, her breath forming a cloud of mist in front of her. “Instead, I found me braither losing a war against his own thoughts.”
“There is no war,” Aaron said, looking away.
Scarlett almost laughed. “I ken,” she said, placing a hand on his arm. “Ye were merely cleanin’ the stables at dawn.”
Only then did Aaron realize that he was still clutching a rag in his hand. He let go of the dirty cloth as though she had not already seen it, wiping his hands as Scarlett set her saddle blanket over the rail.
It had been so long since he had seen her in the stables that he had almost forgotten how good she was when it came to handling her horse.
She stroked Sirius’s head, who snorted and moved closer—a gesture he now realized the mare reserved only for her owner.
“Saddle with me,” she said. “’Tis a fine morning for a ride, and ye clearly need to do somethin’ with yer hands.”
Aaron frowned as he watched her prepare the mare with utmost gentleness, a breath escaping his lips.
Scarlett’s brow rose slightly once she noticed that he had not moved.
“Aaron…” She folded her arms across her chest.
Aaron opened his mouth to refuse. But arguing with Scarlett had never once worked in his favor, and the prospect of leaving the stables held quite the appeal, especially on a quiet morning like this.
“Alright,” he relented.
He let his horse out of its stall, saddling it as she did Sirius.
It was an easy routine. The simple mechanics of buckles and leather offered him a brief respite from the chaos in his head, and by the time they led the horses out into the morning light, the sky had begun to soften into blue along the eastern hills.
The silence settled into a gentle rhythm around them as they rode, neither of them saying a word at first. The horses fell into an easy pace as they followed the path that wound past the eastern fields, and Aaron let the cold air fill his lungs.
It was enough of a distraction, only for a moment, as the tension in his chest eased slightly. Then his thoughts drifted to Edith again, to the way the wind had played with her long auburn hair when she rode on the same horse beside him.
He glanced toward Scarlett. For the first time in years, he was not grateful for his sister’s silence. It gave him much more room to think about Edith, and he hated it. But he had nothing to say to her.
Finally, they passed the boundary stone. There, the grounds gave way to open countryside, the mist still clinging low to the grass in some places.
“Do ye remember,” Scarlett said, “when ye taught me to ride here?”
Aaron glanced at her, grateful for the chance to finally escape his thoughts. “Aye. Ye fell three times before ye learned to balance properly.”
“Nay,” she corrected him, smiling gently. “It was four times. Ye only say three because ye refuse to count the time we fell off Sirius’s back together.”
Aaron huffed. He had never fallen off a horse once in his life. But his sister had insisted on remembering it like that for years, and now there was no changing her mind.
Still, he did not give in.
“I jumped down from the horse to save ye.”
Scarlett rolled her eyes. “Nay, ye didnae.”
“It was deliberate. Perhaps I shall swear on me honor, so ye would believe me.”
“There is no reason to swear. I can just ask Sirius.”
A faint smile tugged at his mouth. “And how would she ken?” he asked. “She doesnae have eyes at the back of her head.”
Scarlett laughed at that, the sound carrying in the morning air as she relaxed her grip on her reins, slowing down.
They rode further, their conversation drifting easily between memories neither of them had revisited in years.
They laughed about the one time Aaron nearly drowned as a young lad. He had been trying to prove he could swim across the loch faster than any man in the Highlands, and he had failed in his desperate attempt to breathe without coming up for air.
They laughed about the one time Scarlett had hidden in Aaron’s bedchamber to scare him, only to send all the clansmen on a search party looking for her. About the time she swore that the castle had ghosts, and how she had believed that only her mother’s silver medallion could protect her.
She still believed in the powers of the silver medallion. It was why she had sent it to Edith and made Aaron deliver it himself. It was why he had ended up kissing Edith in the corridor.
Aaron sighed.
Life had been easier when he was younger, though it started to take a different shape once Scarlett was born. Their mother had died giving birth to her, and their father had been distant all his years, so he’d had to grow up faster, raising a child when he was barely a lad.
It became tougher when their father died a few years later. Scarlett was only seven, and he was eighteen, needed by his clan to fill his father’s shoes lest they all suffer.
He had learned to become a leader without a guide. A Laird who learned to wield his sword battle after battle, growing with just one loyal man by his side.
Eventually, they stopped near a small rise overlooking the eastern boundary. They dismounted their horses, allowing them to graze the fields nearby. They stood side by side in silence, watching the mist lift from the fields below.
“Ye ken,” Scarlett said, her voice as quiet as the morning. “Ye daenae have to carry everything anymore.”
Aaron did not say anything in response. He understood what she was talking about before she even explained it. But how was he to accept it when all he knew was this life?
“Ye spent half yer life raisin’ me,” Scarlett continued. “Raisin’ these people. Protectin’ the clan. Becomin’ whatever everyone needed ye to be.” Her voice softened. “But ye daenae have to keep living that way.”
“Ye cannae understand.”
Scarlett shook her head. “Ye are right. I cannae. But I ken that ye are allowed to want something at least. Something for yerself.”
Aaron’s jaw clenched hard enough to ache.
“That is the problem,” he said. “I do want somethin’.” His voice was raw and honest in a way he rarely permitted, even with her. “I just cannae have it.”
Scarlett frowned, confusion flashing across her face. “Why?”
“Because if I take it…” He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. “I become the very thing I swore I would never be.”
Scarlett moved closer, obviously concerned. “What are ye talkin’ about?”
“Edith.”
Even her name sounded different coming from him now—heavier than the two syllables had any right to be.
“She wants freedom,” he said quietly. “A future. A life beyond these walls.” His gaze fell to the grass beneath his boots. “And I…” A humorless laugh escaped him. “I cannae let her go.”
Scarlett watched him quietly, understanding settling slowly across her features.
“Aaron,” she said gently. “Carin’ for someone isnae the same as trappin’ them.”
“Is it nae?” he scoffed. “Because every time she looks at me, I want more. And since ye arrived, she rarely looks at me anymore.”
The confession hung between them, raw and unguarded.
“’Tis wise for her to avoid me, truly,” he continued. “She deserves better than a man like me, wishing to keep her here when she dreams of a life beyond the Highlands.”
Scarlett sighed, reaching out to rest a hand briefly on his arm. “Or perhaps,” she said softly, “ye deserve someone like her. And she would be lucky to be with someone like ye.”
Aaron closed his eyes briefly, the words landing somewhere he was not prepared for them to land.
Perhaps…
“Are ye happy, Sister?” he asked quietly. “Or have I ruined ye?”
Scarlett’s expression softened. She withdrew her hand from his arm and reached up instead, touching his hair playfully, the way she used to when they were children and he had carried her on his shoulders through these very fields.
“Ye havenae ruined anything,” she assured him. “Raisin’ me was the best thing ye ever did, Aaron.” Her smile turned knowing and gentle. “And from what I can see, it seems to be the same for Edith, too.”
She withdrew her hand, whistling so that their horses came running back toward them.
“Come,” she said. “The villagers will start to arrive within the hour, and I willnae have ye smellin’ of horse and stable dust beside me best friend.”
Aaron huffed, though the sound carried no real protest in it.
They turned the horses back toward Hallow. The morning mist had mostly lifted now, the sky brightening steadily overhead.
As they rode, Scarlett glanced at him once more, her expression turning thoughtful. “Aaron.”
“Aye?”
“Has she truly been avoidin’ ye since the fair?”
His jaw tightened. “Aye.”
Scarlett considered this for a long moment, saying nothing until the castle walls appeared ahead of them.
“Perhaps,” she said finally, “she is fightin’ the same war ye are.”
Aaron said nothing to that, though the thought settled in his chest with a weight he could not immediately name, lingering long after they had returned the horses to their stalls and parted ways near the courtyard.