CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
The walk back to the carriage was silent in a way that felt different.
Aaron found he did not entirely mind it.
Caelan and Violet trailed behind, still laughing softly about something he could not quite catch, while Edith walked silently beside him.
He considered striking up a conversation, then immediately dismissed the idea. He was not the sort of man to speak when there was no need for words. He was not going to become one now.
His eyes fell to her hands, catching the small bouquet of wild lavender that she held loosely in her grip. The scent of it drifted toward him in the evening air, mixing with the scent that had haunted him for weeks now, inseparable from her.
“Is it yer favorite?” he asked, and then he immediately convinced himself it did not constitute small talk.
“Aye,” she replied. “It always has been.”
Clearly so.
“I ken,” he heard himself say.
Edith slowed down. She glanced at the small bouquet, then at him, something curious in her expression. “How would ye ken that?”
Aaron did not answer immediately.
His jaw worked as he considered whether to admit the truth—that he had known for weeks now, that the scent had become so thoroughly meshed with her in his mind that he could not encounter it anywhere without thinking of her immediately and entirely.
“It suits ye,” he said instead. The words were true enough.
Edith studied him for a long moment, something soft settling into her expression that he had not seen directed at him in days.
“Thank ye,” she said quietly.
They reached the carriage shortly after, the easy familiarity of departure settling over the group.
Caelan helped Violet up into the small cart she had come in. His face bore an obvious reluctance to leave her side, even as she blushed furiously at the thought of seeing him again before the harvest festival.
Aaron’s mouth twitched despite himself.
“Ye should ride with her,” he suggested, the words sounding foreign to his own ears.
Caelan’s eyes brightened. “Me Laird, are ye?—”
“Daenae make me change me mind.”
The road to the castle was safe, and Aaron would not be any safer with Caelan than he would be on his own. But the maid would be alone in the cart if they rode without her.
’Tis only logical.
He turned away quickly before he could reconsider his offer. Surely, Caelan would tease him for his benevolence afterward. But for now, he chose to ignore it.
’Tis nothing unusual.
He helped Edith into their carriage without thinking, his hand finding hers exactly as it had countless times now. The gesture had become so familiar that it no longer required deliberate thought.
The road to Hallow Castle stretched dark ahead of them, the last traces of daylight bleeding out of the sky as the carriage rolled forward into the gathering dusk.
Aaron sat across from Edith, watching the fields blur past the window, his thoughts circling back to everything Scarlett had likely said to her in that quiet conversation near the silk cart.
Perhaps Edith told her about the arrangement.
