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“He didnae kiss me,” she said. The words came out ragged. “I told him he’d come home to a Dunmore. I dared him. And he rode out with that in his ears.”

“I said vile things to him, my lady. I said he wanted my father dead more than he wanted me. And if they kill him on that road…”

She could not finish. She slid off the stool onto her knees and hid her face in Lady Mairead’s lap, in the soft old wool, and said it there, because she could not hold it in her chest one more breath.

“I love him. God help me. I love him, and I sent him off thinking I’d sooner have my father.”

She had never said it aloud, not even in the dark.

For a moment the lady did not move. Then her hand came down on Iona’s head, light as a leaf, and her other hand found Iona’s chin and lifted her face out of the wool. Lady Mairead was leaning over her. She was smiling, a young woman’s smile in that worn face, and her grip on Iona’s chin was hard enough to hurt.

“Say it again,” she said. “Slower. I’ve waited a long while to hear somebody say that in this house.”

“I love him,” Iona said, and it came out half a sob and half a laugh.

“I kent it before you did, lass,” Lady Mairead said. “I kent it in the garden, when ye had him yelping about his feet. Have ye told him?”

“No,” Iona said.

“So ye’ve told me, and no’ him.” Tears stood in the lady’s eyes, and she let them. “Ye’ll tell him yerself, when he’s home. Loud enough for Agnes to hear it, and spare me the telling.”

Iona laughed. She put her face down in the lady’s lap again and laughed and wept into the wool together, and the thin fingers moved in her hair.

“I’ll no’ sit in the dark and wait for my son,” Lady Mairead said above her, “the way I waited for his father. Take me down to the hall, lass. I’ll sit where I can see the gate.”

• • •

They sat on the bench at the top of the hall steps with a plaid over the lady’s knees. Below them old men mended harness, and the men cut at the ford argued on the mounting block about who had been bravest.

The sun went down behind the hills. Torches were lit along the wall.

Iona sat with the lady’s shoulder against hers and tried not to think of that morning. Her body thought of it anyway. Heat pooled in her, and she pressed her knees together under her skirt and was glad of the dark.

If he died on that road, she would never have him in her arms again.

The thought turned the heat to ice. She shut her eyes.

“Rider!” the man on the wall shouted. “Rider on the glen track!”

Iona was on her feet before she knew she had moved. Men were running for the north gate, where the glen track came down off the moor.

Lads ran to drag the bar off it. The gate swung open on the dusk, and a horse came through at a stumbling canter, blown and dark with sweat, and pulled up in the middle of the yard.

The man on it was in MacVey plaid, mud to the knees. He half fell out of the saddle and caught himself on the stirrup. His face was grey with the ride. His eyes searched the yard and the steps, and found her.

“My lady,” he said. “Lady MacVey?”

“I’m here.” She was down the steps without feeling them under her feet. “What is it? Where is he?”

“The laird.” He wiped the mud from his mouth with the back of his hand and dragged the words out between breaths. “They came on us in the hills, my lady. Out of the rocks. He took a blade under the ribs.”

The yard went silent around them. Iona heard nothing but the blood roaring in her ears. She caught the man’s stirrup leather and held on to it to stay upright.

“He’s alive,” she said. “Tell me he’s alive.”

“He was when I left him. They’ve carried him to the shieling, up on the high grazing where the herds go in summer. He cannae be moved.” The man swallowed. “He’s asking for ye, my lady. He’s asking for his wife. He said to bring ye, and to be quick.”

Behind her, Lady Mairead had come to the edge of the steps. Iona heard her breath catch. When she looked back, the lady was not looking at the messenger at all. Her eyes had gone past him to the north gate, standing open on the dark track, and stayed there, as though she watched for her son to ride in through it.