He wondered if she always carried herself so, or if the silence was armor. The thought made him frown, though his eyes softened when she shifted in the saddle and glanced toward the hills. She looked as though she belonged to the land already. Ian told himself to stop thinking such foolish things.
They entered the dirt roads that wound between stone cottages, their thatched roofs darkened by age and smoke. Chickens scattered at the sound of hooves, and a pair of children paused mid-game to stare. The place smelled of earth, peat, and river water.
She studied the cottages and the people moving about their tasks. “Tell me of Clan McGuire,” she said quietly, her voice careful. “And of this place.”
Ian drew a breath, surprised by the question and the way she asked it.
“We live by fishin’ and farmin’,” he said. “The river gives us trout and shellfish enough to trade. The fields keep us fed, even in lean years.”
Arianna nodded, attentive. “It seems a good life,” she said.
“It’s honest,” he replied. “That’s more than many can say.” He continued, warming to the telling. “We also grow herbs, more than most clans.”
Arianna turned to him, curious. “Herbs?” she echoed.
“Aye,” he said. “Medicinal ones, taught to us by healers long before me time.” His voice held a note of pride despite himself. “They’ve brought coin and favor from places far beyond these hills. For there's nae much that people will nae trade to save a life.”
“That was clever,” she said.
Ian glanced at her. “It was necessary,” he answered. “Clever just happened to come with it.”
She smiled then, open and brief.
They rode deeper into the village, villagers bowing or nodding as they passed.
Arianna lowered her voice. “They seem to respect ye.”
Ian replied, “They expect me to earn it.” The words were simple, but he meant them.
She considered that. “I hope I can do the same,” she said.
Ian looked ahead, then back to her. “Give them kindness,” he said. “They’ll give ye loyalty.” As the road narrowed, he felt, for the first time, that perhaps she truly wished to understand his world.
They stopped in front of the seamstress's cottage and dismounted. Ian felt at once the press of warmth and color. Bolts of cloth were stacked to the rafters, ribbons and cords hung from pegs, and the air smelled of wool, dye, and beeswax. Sunlight streamed through a small window, catching motes of dust that danced as the door closed behind them. The place felt busy even in stillness, as though it hummed with half-finished dreams.
Ian watched Arianna pause just inside, her eyes widening as she took it all in. Her hands clasped together, and she turned slowly, as if afraid to touch anything lest it all tumble down. He recognized that look too well, the one folk wore when choicebecame a burden. It stirred something protective in him before he could stop it.
The seamstress bustled forward at once, wiping her hands on her apron.
“Me laird,” she bowed. “Och, this must be the new Lady McGuire,” the woman said brightly.
Arianna dipped her head. “Aye,” she replied, sounding uncertain.
The questions came fast as arrows. “What colors do ye fancy, me lady, aside from the clan green and silver?” the seamstress asked. “Do ye like heavier wool for winter, or softer linsey-woolsey?” She barely paused for breath. “And for summer, do ye prefer lighter sleeves, or long sleeves?”
Ian watched Arianna blink, clearly overwhelmed. “I… I daenae ken,” she said softly. She glanced back at Ian as though seeking land after deep water. “Whatever ye feel is best,” she added, her voice nearly lost in the rush.
Ian stepped forward before the seamstress could barrel on. “Enough,” he said, not unkindly but firm. The woman stilled at once, eyes flicking to him. He gestured toward a deep blue cloak trimmed with fur. “That one will serve her well for winter.”
He moved along the racks, his confidence surprising even himself. “This ridin' skirt,” he said, tapping sturdy fabric, “it’sgood for long days in the saddle.” He lifted a lighter gown between two fingers. “And this for hot summers, when the sun’s high and the air’s thick.” He paused, then added, “She’ll need somethin' heavier still for ice and snow.”
The seamstress nodded rapidly, already making notes. “Aye, aye, I see it now,” she murmured.
Ian felt the weight of her gaze and pretended not to notice as Arianna's shoulders dropped in relief.
When the seamstress turned away to gather cloth, Arianna leaned closer to him. “Thank ye,” she whispered, her voice warm with gratitude. “I’m grateful I daenae have to answer another question.”
Ian huffed a quiet sound that might have been a laugh. “Anytime,” he said gruffly, though inside he thought it no hardship at all.
