Maxwell’s brows rose slightly. “And?”
Hunter rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly less swagger and more honest man. “And I can see it. I can see meself… staying put. For once. I can see meself building something. With her.”
Ariella stared at him as if he’d just announced he’d seen the face of God.
Then she laughed, delighted. “So the great Hunter Murdoch has finally been caught?”
Hunter scoffed. “I am nae caught.”
Ariella tilted her head. “Ye’re caught.”
Hunter’s grin widened, but there was something shy in it now. “Maybe I am willing.”
Maxwell watched his brother closely.
He saw the way Hunter’s gaze softened when he spoke of this woman. The way his shoulders eased, as if he had been carrying a weight he hadn’t understood until it lifted.
Maxwell’s voice came out quieter. “Is she good?”
Hunter nodded without hesitation. “Aye.”
Ariella leaned slightly closer to Hunter, eyes bright. “Then ye’ll arrange everything for me to visit.”
Hunter blinked. “What?”
Ariella smiled sweetly, entirely unbothered by Maxwell’s amused glance. “If ye expect to bring her here and have us all smile politely, I want to ken her first. Properly. I want to see if she’s worthy of being me sister.”
Hunter stared at her. “Ye’re already me sister.”
Ariella’s smile sharpened. “Exactly. And I am very protective.”
Hunter’s eyes widened. “Ye sound like Maxwell.”
Maxwell’s mouth twitched, clearly entertained now. “She’s learned.”
Hunter groaned. “This is unfair.”
Ariella lifted a shoulder. “Life is unfair. Ask me husband.”
Maxwell rumbled a low laugh, brief and real. Ariella’s gaze flicked to him, pleased as if she’d won something important.
Hunter pointed at Maxwell. “And ye’re smiling. I saw it. Daenae deny it.”
Maxwell’s expression settled back into something steadier, but the warmth remained in his eyes. “Go find yer lass and bring her here when ye’re ready.”
Hunter’s face softened. “Aye.”
Ariella nodded once, satisfied. “And I’ll visit.”
Hunter sighed dramatically. “Aye, me lady. I’ll arrange it.”
Maxwell watched his brother walk away to greet the others. The courtyard surged with noise again, the kind that didn’t tighten the skin, didn’t warn of danger.
Ariella shifted closer, her shoulder brushing Maxwell’s arm.
“Ye’re thinking,” she murmured.
Maxwell’s gaze stayed on the people, on the tables, on the children. On the life he had not believed would ever belong to him.
