Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
The silence that followed the Laird’s declaration stretched like a bowstring about to snap.
Iris stood frozen, her heart hammering against her ribs as she watched her parents process what had just happened.
The most attractive man she’d ever seen had just casually proposed to marry her instead of her missing sister, and she couldn’t decide if she should be flattered or terrified.
Probably both.
Her father was the first to recover, his politician’s instincts kicking in even as his face remained pale with shock.
“Wait! Me laird, please reconsider!”
Iris watched her father scramble after Elijah like a beggar chasing coins, and felt her cheeks burn with shame. The great hall had mostly emptied after their father’s urgent summons to the servants, but the few remaining were getting quite the show.
“Edward, stop,” her mother hissed, but he ignored her completely.
“Laird McMurphy, surely ye can see that Iris wouldnae make ye a suitable wife,” her father continued desperately, his voice carrying across the stone hall. “She’s too... difficult. Too set in her ways. Nothin’ like what ye need.”
Iris braced herself for the familiar litany of her failures.
Elijah stopped walking. He turned back slowly, and the look on his face made Iris’ stomach clench with dread. There was something predatory in those eyes, something that suggested her father was about to make a very dangerous mistake.
“Are ye tellin’ me ye daenae want to honor yer agreement?” His voice was deceptively soft.
“Of course, we want to honor it!” Edward’s voice cracked like a boy’s. “But Iris is... well, she’s nae what ye need in a wife. She’s too independent, too stubborn. She throws knives as a hobby for God’s sake!”
There it is.
The familiar list of everything wrong with her.
“She reads too much,” her mother added, stepping forward with that false, desperate smile that Iris could recognize from a mile away.
“Gets ideas above her station. And her appearance...” Catherine gestured helplessly at her daughter.
“She’s too tall, too... substantial. Nae delicate like a proper Highland lady should be. ”
Too fat. Just say it, Maither.
Iris kept her expression carefully blank, but inside, she was dying a little more with each word.
“She’s nothin’ like Lydia,” Catherine continued, warming to her theme. “Lydia is gentle, sweet, biddable. She’s everythin’ a Highland laird needs in a wife. She’s prettier too, more refined. If ye just give us time to find her, bring her back, she’ll be everythin’ ye want.”
Iris was absolutely certain he would agree.
Who wouldn’t want beautiful, perfect Lydia over the family disappointment?
Even she thought her parents were making perfect sense.
Lydia was everything a man could want—soft where Iris was hard, gentle where Iris was fierce, beautiful where Iris was merely. .. adequate.
She waited for his nod of agreement, for the inevitable moment when he would see sense and reject her just like everyone else had.
“Nay.”
The single word cut through the air like a blade. Elijah’s eyes were cold as he looked at her parents.
Iris felt her world tilt sideways.
What?
“But me laird,” Catherine pressed on, clearly as shocked as Iris felt, “surely ye can see that Lydia would be the better choice? She’s everythin’ that would make a good lady for yer clan.”
“Are ye deaf, woman?” Elijah’s voice dropped to a dangerous whisper that made the hair on Iris’ arms stand up. “I said nay.”
Iris felt surprise and confusion twist in her chest, and underneath it all, a treacherous flutter of something that might have been hope. He was dismissing their arguments like they were children babbling nonsense.
Elijah stepped closer to her parents, and even from across the room, Iris could feel the menace radiating from him like heat from a forge.
“Let me make somethin’ very clear. I came here for a bride.
I’m leavin’ with one. The only question is whether that bride will be willin’ or whether I’ll have to take more.
.. drastic measures to ensure me son has a mother. ”
Son?
This was the first Iris had heard about a child. The knowledge hit her hard. She wouldn’t just be marrying this dangerous stranger, she’d be expected to mother his child.
Catherine went pale as death. “Ye wouldnae dare.”
His smile was razor-sharp and twice as cutting.
“Ye seem to forget that yer family owes me a considerable debt beyond this marriage contract. Land grants, trade agreements, protection from raiders...” He let the words hang in the air like a sword over their heads.
“All of which depend on me continued goodwill.”
Protection?
Iris felt her stomach drop to somewhere around her feet. She’d known about the marriage contract. It was a normal arrangement in the Highlands. But these other agreements? The debts and obligations that apparently bound her family to this man?
“How much do ye owe me clan in grain tribute this year?” Elijah continued conversationally, as if discussing the weather rather than her family’s potential destruction.
“And wasnae it me men who helped ye put down that cattle raid last spring? What do ye think happens to yer pretty castle when I withdraw me support and tell the MacLeods that the Douglas lands are... unprotected?”
Edward’s face went from red to gray. “Ye cannae do that.”
“I can do whatever I please,” Elijah said simply, and Iris believed him completely.
There was something in his voice, in his bearing, that spoke of absolute power wielded without conscience.
“I’m nae some minor Laird ye can manipulate with pretty words and prettier daughters. Cross me, and I’ll crush ye.”
Iris stared at this man who was calmly threatening to destroy her family, and she felt a chill that had nothing to do with the stone walls surrounding them.
This is who they want me to marry.
But even as fear crawled up her spine, she couldn’t help but notice something else. He hadn’t agreed with a single criticism her parents had made. Hadn’t nodded along when they called her too difficult, too independent, too substantial. Instead, he’d grown angrier with each word.
Why?
“Now,” Elijah continued, his voice returning to normal conversational tones as if he hadn’t just threatened to destroy everything they held dear, “as I was sayin’, Iris will do perfectly well as me bride.
She’s intelligent, she’s nae cowerin’ despite everythin’ she’s just heard, and she’s loyal to her family, or she would have walked away from this farce by now. ”
His eyes found hers across the room, and she felt pinned like a butterfly on a collector’s board. “Those are the qualities I need in a wife. Nae some delicate flower who’ll faint at the first sign of trouble or even run away from it.”
Iris’s breath caught. He was defending her. Actually defending her against her own parents’ criticisms. When had anyone ever done that?
“But me laird,” Catherine started again, desperation making her voice shrill.
“But nothin’.” He cut her off with surgical precision. “Yer daughter Lydia proved she’s a coward by runnin’ rather than facin’ her duty. Do ye really think I want someone like that raisin’ me son? Teachin’ him that the answer to difficulty is to run and hide?”
The insult to Lydia hit Iris like a physical blow. “Daenae ye dare!”
“Dare what?” Elijah turned that cold gaze on her, and she felt like a mouse that had just drawn the attention of a hunting hawk. “Speak the truth? Yer sister abandoned her responsibilities and left ye to clean up her mess. What would ye call that if nae cowardice?”
Iris wanted to defend Lydia, wanted to explain about the fear and the terrible stories, but the words stuck in her throat because a small, bitter part of her agreed with him. Lydia had run. Had left Iris to face the consequences alone.
“I’ll nae have this discussion again,” Elijah announced, addressing her parents but keeping his eyes on Iris. “Ye have until sunset to prepare yer daughter for our departure.”
“Departure?” Iris found her voice though it came out rougher than she’d intended. “We’re leavin’ today?”
“The contracts will be signed within the hour. We’ll be wed tonight and travel to me lands.” His tone was matter of fact, like he was discussing the weather rather than completely upending her entire life. “Unless, of course, yer family would prefer to discuss the alternative.”
Edward and Catherine exchanged desperate looks, and Iris could practically see them calculating the cost of defiance against the cost of sacrifice.
She was losing.
“Me laird,” Edward tried one last time, his voice breaking with desperation, “surely ye can see that this is all happenin’ too fast. Iris needs time to prepare, to... to adjust to the idea.”
“Time for what? To run like her sister did?” Elijah’s words were harsh and bitter. “Nay. I’ve learned nae to give reluctant brides too much time to think. If I daenae have a bride by the end of the day, I will nae be responsible for me actions.”
The threat hung in the air like smoke from a funeral pyre. Iris could see her parents crumbling, their last desperate gambit failing before her eyes.
“Of course, me laird,” Catherine said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “Whatever ye think is best.”
“Excellent.” Elijah turned to Iris, and she saw something flicker in those dark eyes—not quite satisfaction but close. “Yer maid can help ye pack. Bring only what ye need. Everythin’ else can be replaced.”
The casual dismissal of her entire life hit her like a slap. Her books, her small treasures, the life she’d built in the margins of her family’s expectations—all of it reduced to “everything else".
“And if I refuse?” The words came out before she could stop them.
The hall went deadly quiet. Her parents looked horrified, and she could practically feel their terror radiating across the space between them.
Elijah studied her for a long moment, his head tilted slightly as if she were a particularly interesting puzzle. When he spoke, his voice was low but gruff which somehow made it infinitely more terrifying.
“Then yer family will pay the price for both yer defiance and yer sister’s cowardice. Is that what ye want, Iris? To see everythin’ they’ve built crumble because ye’re too proud to do yer duty?”
She stared at him.
“Nay,” she finally whispered.
“Good.” He nodded once, sharp and final. “Then I suggest ye start packin’.”
As he strode from the hall, his boots echoing against the stone with each step. Iris realized her legs suddenly couldn’t support her, and she sank into the nearest chair. Her mind was reeling with everything that had just happened.
In a few hours, she’d be married to a man she’d known for less than a day. A man who commanded loyalty through fear, who threatened her family’s destruction as casually as discussing the weather, who somehow saw value in her when her own parents saw only failure.
The most terrifying part wasn’t his threats or his cold demeanor. It was the way her heart had raced when he’d defended her against her parents’ criticisms. The way something in her chest had fluttered when he’d called her intelligent and courageous.
What’s wrong with me?