Page 90 of Owned by the Scarred Laird

William, sensing an opening in the silence, made a valiant grab for Edward’s sleeve, and Edward reached out, letting the boy’s small fist close around one finger.

“He’ll be good company for ye,” Edward said. “On the road.”

"He'll scream the first hour and sleep the second, if Melodie's guess holds. She says it's always the way with him whenever somethin' unsettles his routine — new room, new face, anythin' unfamiliar. A carriage will likely be no different."

“Consistent, at least.”

That got something out of her. Not quite a laugh, just the ghost of one, gone as fast as it arrived, and she pulled William back before Edward could decide whether to be glad of it or sorry it had not lasted. She turned toward the carriage.

“Chloe.”

She stopped, one hand already on the door.

“Send word when ye arrive.”

“Ye said that already.”

“I am sayin’ it again.”

She looked at him carefully, then, for the length of two breaths, something shifting behind her eyes that he had no name for and no right to inquire about. Then she nodded once, handed William up to Melodie inside the carriage, and climbed in after him without any ceremony.

Duncan swung the door shut and gave the signal, and the carriage lurched forward, the four mounted guards falling into place around it, and within a few minutes the whole procession had cleared the gate and turned onto the north road, dust rising thin behind the wheels.

Edward stood in the yard longer than he needed to, watching the road long after there was nothing left on it to watch.

“Duncan.”

Duncan, who’d been coiling a spare length of rope near the stable door, looked up. “Me Laird?”

“Take a horse. Follow at a distance, far enough back she willnae see ye, close enough ye could reach the carriage inside a quarter hour if ye had to.”

Duncan set the rope down slowly. “Ye said four guards were plenty.”

“Four is plenty for trouble on the road ye can see comin’. I want someone behind them for the trouble ye cannae.” Edward kept his eyes on the empty road, not on Duncan’s face, though he could feel the weight of Duncan’s attention regardless. “Daenae let her catch sight of ye. Daenae let the guards report it back to her, either, if it can be helped. She’ll take it as me nae trustin’ her to manage her own journey, and she’d nae be wrong, exactly, but that isnae⁠—”

“That isnae what it is,” Duncan finished for him, when Edward did not.

“Nay.”

“I ken what it is, me Laird,” Duncan said it plainly, no teasing in it for once, which was somehow worse than if he’d teased. “Ye daenae have to explain it to me.”

“I wasnae explainin’.”

“Course ye werenae.” Duncan was already moving toward the stable, calling over his shoulder for a fresh horse to be saddled. “I will send word each night by the fastest man Alfie can spare, so ye’ll ken they’ve made camp safe. Ye’ll want that, I expect, even if ye’d never say so.”

Edward did not answer, which Duncan seemed to take as an answer. Within half an hour, he was mounted and through the gate himself, keeping well back of the dust the carriage had already raised.

Edward watched him go the same way he’d watched the carriage go, standing in the yard with his arms crossed and nothing useful left to do with his hands.

Tyler found him there some time later, still standing, the yard around him gone back to its ordinary business. A cart being loaded, two boys chasing a loose hen past the well, the smith’s hammer starting up again somewhere behind the stables.

“Ye’ve been out here a while,” Tyler said.

“Checkin’ the wall.”

“Ye checked the wall an hour past. I watched ye do it.” Tyler leaned against the granary door, arms folded, in no apparent hurry to be anywhere else. “She’ll be fine, ye ken. Four guards, good roads, and Duncan trailin’ behind, whether ye admit to sendin’ him or nae.”

“I didnae say I sent him anywhere.”