“Never mind.”
There was no way she could explain that the man over whom she had had countless sleepless nights, whose gaze she had avoided lest she feel embarrassed, whose every breath irritated her, and whose actions had sent her into a conflict of thoughts only days ago, was now confusing her even more.
How could she explain it to her friend?
Aaron was only playing with the children. It was no big deal. And yet Edith had imagined him as a father, and now she wanted nothing more than to know why he would not truly claim her or any other woman.
She wanted an answer so desperately that her chest tightened.
She turned to leave, feeling embarrassed, but Scarlett grabbed her hand, halting her. “Edith…”
Edith swallowed. “I…” she stammered. “It was foolish to ask. Pay me no mind, Scarlett.”
Scarlett exhaled, her eyes softening as she reached for her other hand.
“It wasnae foolish,” she said quietly, holding her gaze in a manner that slowly grounded her. “I will never think ye foolish, Edith. Ever.” She paused, squeezing her hands gently. “It is just… I have never questioned it meself.”
Edith blinked. Her eyes flitted across Scarlett’s face, and her chest eased slightly at the sincerity in her gaze.
“Ye should ask him,” Scarlett added. “Truly.”
She looked toward Aaron, her expression turning thoughtful in a way Edith rarely saw.
“Me braither has just…” Scarlett’s voice broke slightly, and she blinked, refusing to meet Edith’s eyes. “He has always carried everythin’ alone. Our faither died when he was barely a man, and he simply… took it all on.” A sad smile touched her lips. “The clan. The council. Me.” She paused. “He is both me faither and me maither in a way.”
Edith said nothing.
They were true, the words that Scarlett had said. She had witnessed most of it herself, growing up alongside them.
“I suppose he never had the chance to simply be,” Scarlett said quietly. “And now, I fear he may nae ken how to.”
Edith exhaled, letting her shoulders drop.
For the past three weeks, she had only allowed herself to think of Aaron from a place of anger and spite. But now, for the first time, she thought of him in a different light.
Unlike his sister, she had barely known him outside of his lairdship. But even then, he had provided her with a roof over her head after her mother’s death and never demanded that she serve as a maid.
She thought of the past three weeks and how he had not once been cruel toward her. He had spread out his plaid for her to sit, defended her honor before an entire hall of councilmen, and even though those were only for the sake of their betrothal, he had sat with her in silence on the floor of Scarlett’s old bedchamber.
These were not the actions of a man who only knew duty. These were the actions of a man who had forgotten how to be anything but who he had been all his life—a Laird.
She looked back toward Aaron. He was still with the children, though the game had shifted now. A small boy tugged at his sleeve, demanding he settle a dispute over whose turn it was to fight with a wooden sword.
It was as though he could sense her eyes on him. He looked up, their eyes meeting across the distance, and for the first time that day, neither of them looked away.
Edith exhaled slowly.
“Ye see it too,” Scarlett said quietly from beside her.
There was no seeing him differently. Aaron was still the Laird. Whatever was between them was still an agreement, and it would soon be over.
“Nay,” Edith said, though her voice lacked its usual conviction.
Scarlett simply smiled, saying nothing further.
The afternoon went by quickly, and Aaron watched it pass, resting against the trunk of the tree under which he had played with children he did not know.
It had been a spontaneous choice.
