Chapter 7 #2
“Friends, family, clan members all.” His voice carried easily through the massive space. “Tonight, we celebrate nae just a marriage but a new beginnin’ for Clan McMurphy. I present to ye yer new lady—Iris Craig, Lady McMurphy!”
The cheer that went up was deafening. Goblets were raised, voices joined in traditional Highland blessings, and somewhere a piper began playing a tune that made her chest tight with unexpected emotion.
As the noise died down, Elijah continued. “Let the feast begin! Tonight, we celebrate, and tomorrow, we begin buildin’ the future!”
Food began appearing as if by magic, servants bringing platter after platter of roasted meats, fresh bread, vegetables, and sweets that made her mouth water.
The ale flowed freely, conversations grew louder and more animated, and gradually the formal atmosphere gave way to genuine Highland celebration.
But through it all, Iris found herself watching Codie—the way he sat up straighter when she smiled at him, the careful way he used his eating knife, the occasional glances he shot her way as if making sure she was still there.
He’s been hurt before. Abandoned before. He’s afraid I’ll disappear too.
“Ye’re thinkin’ too hard,” Elijah said quietly, cutting into her thoughts.
“Am I?”
“Aye. I can practically hear the wheels turnin’ in yer head.” He took a sip of his ale, studying her over the rim of his goblet. “What’s troublin’ ye?”
Everything. This marriage, these people, the responsibility of bein’ someone’s mother when I barely ken how to be someone’s wife.
“I daenae want to hurt him,” she said quietly. “Yer son. He’s already lost one mother, and he doesnae deserve to be hurt again.”
Surprise flickered in Elijah’s eyes. “Nay,” he agreed. “He doesnae.”
“So, whatever happens between us, whatever this marriage becomes, I want yer word that ye willnae use him against me and that ye willnae make him choose sides or suffer for our conflicts.”
Elijah set down his goblet, his expression serious. “Ye have it. Me word, and me oath as Laird of this clan. Codie will nae be used as a weapon between us.”
“Good.” She lifted her own goblet, surprised to find her hand steady. “Then we understand each other.”
“Do we?” His voice was thoughtful. “Because I’m beginnin’ to think ye’re nae at all what I expected, Iris Craig.”
Iris Craig.
The name sent a jolt through her that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with belonging, but before she could think of a response, Henry stood up at the far end of the table, his own goblet raised.
“A toast!” he called out, his voice carrying over the noise of the feast. “To our laird and our new lady! May their marriage be blessed with happiness, prosperity, and many strong sons!”
“To the Laird and Lady!” the hall echoed.
As Iris raised her goblet with everyone else, she caught sight of Codie watching her with those serious brown eyes. When she smiled at him, he smiled back with a real, genuine smile that transformed his whole face.
But even as the thought formed, she noticed something else. The way Elijah’s jaw had tightened at Henry’s toast. The way his knuckles had gone white around his goblet.
Many strong sons.
She was here to be a mother to Codie, yes, but she was also here to provide Elijah with more children to carry on his name and secure his legacy. And that meant sharing his bed.
The thought sent heat flooding through her, part anticipation and part terror. Because despite the forced marriage, the threats, and the circumstances that had brought her here, she couldn’t deny the attraction that sparked between them every time he looked at her.
As if sensing her thoughts, Elijah leaned closer, his breath warm against her ear.
“The celebration will go on for hours yet,” he murmured. “But when it’s time to retire, we’ll go to the chambers together.”
Tonight, she would share his bed for the first time. Tonight, this marriage would become real in the most fundamental way. The knowledge settled in her stomach like a stone, heavy and inescapable.
Everythin' changes tonight.
The chamber door closed behind them with a soft click that sounded unnaturally loud in the silence. Iris stood just inside the room, her hands clasped in front of her, suddenly feeling like a stranger in the space that was supposed to be theirs.
“Ye can take the bed,” Elijah said quietly, moving toward the window. “I’ll sleep in the chair.”
She blinked in surprise. “What?”
“The chair. It’s comfortable enough.”
“But… we’re married.”
He turned to look at her. “Aye, we are.”
“So why would ye sleep in a chair?”
“Because ye’re terrified of me.” The words were matter of fact, without accusation. “And forcin’ a frightened woman into me bed isnae somethin’ I’m interested in doin’.”
Heat flooded her cheeks. “I’m nae terrified.”
“Nay?” He stepped closer, and she had to fight the urge to back away. “Yer hands are shakin’, lass.”
She looked down and realized he was right. “That doesnae mean I’m afraid of ye.”
“Then what does it mean?”
Good question. What did it mean?
The trembling in her hands, the way her pulse quickened whenever he looked at her, the strange flutter in her stomach when he’d kissed her at the altar—none of it felt like fear exactly.
“I daenae ken,” she admitted.
Something shifted in his expression. “Iris, I need ye to understand somethin’. This marriage... it’s nae what either of us would have chosen, but we’re bound now for better or worse. That doesnae mean I expect ye to welcome me into yer bed just because a priest said some words.”
“Then what do ye expect?”
“Time,” he said simply. “Time for ye to decide what ye want this to be.”
“And if I never want it? What if I decide that I dinnae want this at all?”
“Then we’ll figure out how to make this work anyway.” He moved back toward the chair, beginning to unbutton his shirt. “But tonight, ye sleep in the bed. Alone.”
She should have felt relieved, should have been grateful for his consideration. Instead, she felt oddly disappointed though she couldn’t say why.
“Elijah?”
“Aye?”
“Why did ye really choose me over Lydia?”
He paused in his undressing, his hands stilling on his shirt. “Because when yer parents were explainin’ all the reasons ye werenae suitable, all I could think was that ye sounded like exactly what I needed.”
“A woman who’s too feisty and too difficult?”
“A woman who wouldnae break.” His eyes met hers across the room. “I’ve had enough of broken things in me life.”
The admission hung between them, vulnerable and honest. Before she could respond, he’d blown out most of the candles, leaving only one burning near the bed.
“Good night, Iris.”
“Good night.”
She changed into her nightgown behind the screen, hyperaware of every sound he made settling into the chair. When she finally climbed into the large bed, it felt impossibly empty despite its size.
This is what ye wanted. Distance. Safety. Control.
So why did she feel so alone?
“Elijah?” she whispered into the darkness.
“Aye?”
“Thank ye for givin’ me a choice.”
“Thank ye for stayin’.”
For staying.
Not for marrying him, not for accepting the arrangement—for staying when she could have run like Lydia did.
As she lay in the darkness, listening to his quiet breathing across the room, Iris found herself wondering what it would have been like if she’d asked him to stay instead of letting him retreat to that chair.
What’s wrong with me?
Deep down, she was beginning to suspect she already knew the answer.