“I have brought tribute,” he announced from the library doorway.
Aaron looked up from the rug, where Biscuit was chewing the corner of a discarded ribbon. “Tribute?”
“For Captain Morley,” Frederick said, stepping inside and bowing gravely. “Or for you, if the captain is unavailable.”
Aaron’s eyes widened as Frederick presented the little ship, its sails carefully carved and its hull painted dark blue.
“For me?”
“For Biscuit, if you refuse it, but I suspect he will eat it.”
Biscuit sneezed.
Aaron laughed and took the ship with both hands. “Thank you, Lord Calham.”
“Frederick,” he said. “If your father permits. Lord Calham makes me sound older.”
“Absolutely not,” Rowan said from behind him.
Frederick turned, hand to his heart. “Ironford. How long have you been lurking?”
“This is my house.”
“And yet you lurk so well within it.”
Emmeline entered behind Rowan, smiling before she could suppress it. “You brought him a ship.”
Frederick grinned. “I am a man of generosity and taste.”
Aaron was already examining the little vessel, his fingers careful along the carved mast. “It needs a storm.”
“Most good stories do,” Frederick said.
Rowan glanced at Emmeline.
She was watching Aaron, but she must have felt his gaze because she looked up. For one breath, the room narrowed to the two of them. Her eyes warmed, and something in his chest responded before he could stop it.
Frederick made a small, thoughtful sound.
Rowan did not look at him. “Do not.”
“I said nothing.”
“You were about to.”
“I was admiring the domestic peace.”
“Then admire it silently.”
“Very well.” Frederick dropped onto the rug beside Aaron with a complete lack of dignity. “Now, my lord, shall we teach Captain Morley how to cheat at cards?”
“Frederick,” Emmeline said.
“What? A sailor must be prepared.”
Aaron looked scandalized and delighted. “Is cheating allowed?”
“No,” Rowan said.
