Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“This should do nicely.”
Elijah guided his family toward the Red Stag tavern, noting with satisfaction that it was busy but not overcrowded. The proprietor was a stout man, who immediately spotted them and hurried over with obvious delight.
“Me laird! Me lady! Young Master!” Hamish beamed, wiping his hands on his apron. “What an honor! Come, I have the finest table in the house ready for ye!”
Amidst well expressed greetings from the few patrons, they were shown to a corner table that offered both privacy and a clear view of the room, exactly what Elijah preferred.
Codie immediately began examining everything around him with wide-eyed fascination from the hunting trophies on the walls to the villagers enjoying their midday meals.
“Look at that stag’s head!” he whispered to Iris, pointing at a massive set of antlers mounted above the fireplace. “It must have been the biggest deer in all of Scotland!”
“Indeed, it must have been,” Iris agreed, helping him settle into his chair. “Perhaps the innkeeper will tell us the story of how it was caught.”
“Can we ask him? Please?”
“After we eat,” she said firmly, softening her words with a smile. “A gentleman always tends to his meal first.”
Elijah found himself watching this interaction with approval. She had a natural way with Codie, setting boundaries while still encouraging his curiosity, treating him like the child he was instead of the miniature adult everyone else expected him to be.
She’s good with him. Better than me, or anyone who’s cared for him.
Hamish returned with a platter of the tavern’s best offerings: fresh bread, roasted chicken, root vegetables, and a small pitcher of ale for the adults. For Codie, he brought sweet cider and a selection of honey cakes that made the boy’s eyes light up with delight.
“This is the finest meal I’ve ever had!” Codie declared after his first bite, earning a chuckle from both adults.
“Ye should get out more often then, lad,” Elijah said dryly though he was pleased to see his son so animated.
Codie nodded enthusiastically, his mouth stuffed full, all previous future laird training forgotten.
The trio ate, the conversation flowing more naturally than Elijah had expected.
Iris asked thoughtful questions about the festival, the village, and clan traditions.
She seemed genuinely interested in understanding her new role and responsibilities.
“The harvest celebration has been held here for over two hundred years,” he explained. “It’s one of the oldest traditions in the region.”
“It’s wonderful how these customs survive,” Iris said, breaking off a piece of bread. “There’s somethin’ comfortin’ about kennin’ that people have been celebratin’ the same way for generations.”
“Aye, tradition provides stability. It gives people somethin’ to hold onto when times are uncertain.”
“I suppose I’ve never had much experience with that,” she said quietly, taking a sip of her ale. “Me family... we dinnae have many traditions. Everythin’ was always about advancin’ our position, makin’ the right connections.”
“What about before? When ye were younger?”
“Before what?”
“Before ye became so focused on family advancement. Surely ye had some normal experiences growin’ up?”
Iris was quiet for a moment, and when she spoke, there was something wistful in her voice. “I remember goin’ to a few village celebrations. Before me parents decided such things were beneath us.” She smiled slightly. “There was one in particular... Malcolm took me.”
The name hit Elijah more than he cared to admit though he couldn’t understand why. “Malcolm?”
“Me former betrothed.” She said it casually, as if mentioning the weather, but every muscle in Elijah’s body tensed. “He was... different then. Or maybe I just thought he was.”
Her former betrothed.
The words echoed in his mind, bringing with them a surge of something hot and violent that he had to everything in his power to suppress. The thought of Iris with another man, laughing with him, allowing him to touch her...
“Ye went to festivals with him,” he said, his voice carefully neutral despite the turmoil in his chest.
“A few times. His family owned land near ours,” She shrugged. “It seemed natural. Our parents encouraged it.”
“How long were ye betrothed to this Malcolm?” The question came out sharper than he’d intended, though Iris didn’t seem to notice.
“Five years. From when I was seventeen until...” She paused, her expression growing darker. “Until I discovered what kind of man he really was.”
“And what kind of man was that?”
Codie looked up from his honey cake, sticky-faced and curious. “What’s a betrothed?”
“It means they were promised to each other,” Elijah explained curtly. “Like bein’ married, but nae yet.”
“Oh.” Codie considered this seriously. “But ye married me da instead. What happened to the other man?”
Elijah found himself very interested in the answer to that question though he told himself it was merely idle curiosity.
“He...” Iris glanced at Codie, clearly debating how much to reveal in front of the child. “He proved to be dishonest. So I ended our arrangement.”
“Dishonest how?” Elijah pressed, ignoring the voice in his head that told him to drop the subject.
Iris’ cheeks flushed slightly. “Perhaps we should discuss somethin’ else. This isnae appropriate conversation for Codie.”
“Codie, why daenae ye go ask Hamish about that stag’s head,” Elijah suggested. “I’m sure he’d be happy to tell ye the story.”
The boy’s face lit up. “Really? Can I?”
“Aye, but daenae wander far. Stay where we can see ye.”
As soon as Codie had scampered off toward the bar, Elijah turned back to Iris. “Now, what kind of dishonesty?”
“Why does it matter?” She met his gaze directly, her chin lifting in that stubborn way he was beginning to recognize. “It’s in the past.”
“I’d like to ken what kind of man had the privilege of yer company for an entire five years.” The words came out with more intensity, and he saw her eyes widen slightly.
“The privilege?” She laughed, but there was no humor in it. “I hardly think spendin’ time with me was much of a privilege. Malcolm certainly dinnae seem to think so.”
“What do ye mean by that?”
“I mean...” She hesitated then seemed to steel herself. “I mean I caught him talkin’ about bein’ with another woman. In a tavern much like this one, actually. He was... well, he was doin’ things that a betrothed man shouldnae be doin’ with someone who wasnae his intended bride.”
Elijah glanced sharply at Iris. He was not entirely surprised at what Malcolm had done since some men were born fools, but Iris said it in a resigned way, as if she’d expected no better.
“He was unfaithful to ye,” he said, his voice dangerously quiet.
“Aye. And when I confronted him about it, he told me...” She stopped, shaking her head. “It doesnae matter what he said.”
“It matters to me. What did he say?”
Iris looked down at her hands which were clenched tightly in her lap. “He said that a man couldnae be expected to remain faithful to someone like me for five years. That I was lucky he was willin’ to marry me at all, given me... shortcomin's.”
Shortcomin's.
The word made Elijah want to hunt down this Malcolm and introduce him to the sharp end of a sword.
“What shortcomin’s?” he demanded.
“Well...” She gestured vaguely at herself. “I’m nae exactly what most men would consider a prize, am I? Too tall, too curvy, too opinionated. Malcolm said I should be grateful for any attention at all, nae demandin’ fidelity as well.”
The matter-of-fact way she recited these supposed flaws made something violent uncurl in Elijah’s chest. “And ye believed him?”
“I... what do ye mean?”
“I mean did ye actually believe that rubbish about bein’ lucky to have his attention?” His voice was getting louder, drawing curious glances from other patrons. “Did ye honestly think ye deserved to be treated like that?”
“I...” Iris looked confused by his vehemence. “I ken I’m nae the most desirable woman in Scotland. Me parents made that clear enough over the years. I’m practical about me limitations.”
“Limitations.” He repeated the word like it tasted foul. “What limitations would those be?”
“Elijah, I daenae understand why ye’re gettin’ so serious.”
“What limitations?” His tone was hard and dry.
She flinched, but answered anyway. “Well, as I said, I’m nae conventionally beautiful like me sister. I’m too outspoken, too independent. I daenae have the gentle, biddable nature that most men prefer in a wife. I ken these things about meself.”
“And because of these supposed flaws, ye think ye deserved to have a faithless bastard of a betrothed?”
“I dinnae deserve it,” she said quickly. “That’s why I ended the engagement. I may nae be the best catch in the Highlands, but I willnae tolerate infidelity.”
“Ye’re bein’ an idiot,” he said flatly.
The words hung in the air between them. Iris went very still, her face flushing with hurt and anger.
“I beg yer pardon?”
“I said ye’re bein’ an idiot, and it doesnae become ye.” He leaned forward, his voice intense. “This self-deprecatin’ nonsense, this idea that ye’re somehow lackin’, it’s complete rubbish.”
“It’s nae.”
“It is. And the fact that ye can sit there and recite a list of yer supposed shortcomin’s like ye actually believe them makes ye sound like a fool.”
Hurt flashed across her features, quickly followed by anger. “I’m sorry if me realistic assessment of me own worth offends ye.”
“Yer assessment is anythin’ but realistic.” He was leaning across the table now, close enough to see the gold flecks in her brown eyes. “Tell me, what exactly makes ye think ye’re nae beautiful?”
“I...” She seemed taken aback by the direct question. “I’m nae fishin’ for compliments, if that’s what ye think.”
“I’m nae offerin’ compliments. I’m asking a simple question. What makes ye think ye’re nae beautiful?”
“Because I’m nae.” Her voice was getting smaller, less certain. “Everyone kens that. Me parents, Malcolm, people at court...”
“Ye are a fool.”
The words left his mouth before he’d truly thought them through. And the moment they did, Elijah knew he’d stepped right into trouble.
Her eyes widened, shock flashing across her face before it hardened into fury. “Did ye just say ‘a fool’?”
“Aye, a fool,” Instead of steering the conversation away from the mistake he made, Elijah decided to repeat it. He kept his tone neutral as if they were merely discussing the weather.
He saw heat flood her cheeks as fury rose in her chest like a tide. “I see. So ye think I was foolish to end me engagement to a man who was unfaithful?”
“That’s nae what I meant.” he said quickly, already feeling the trap close in around him.
“Because that’s what ye just said, isnae it?” Her voice was getting louder, drawing glances from nearby tables, but she was too angry to care. Elijah resisted the urge to rub a hand over his face. “That I was an idiot for breakin’ off me betrothal to a cheatin’ bastard?”
“Ye’re misunderstandin’ what I said.” The fire in her eyes told him she wasn’t hearing a word.
“Am I? Because it seems quite clear to me.” She leaned forward, her brown eyes flashing with hurt and rage. “Ye think I should have been grateful for Malcolm’s attention, regardless of how he treated me. Is that it?”
“That’s nae what I meant, and ye ken it,” Elijah said, his patience wearing thin. And just then he felt something, a flicker of amusement?
Why am I enjoyin’ this?
“Then what exactly did ye mean?” she demanded. “Because callin’ someone a fool generally has a fairly specific meanin’.”
“I meant… ”
“Ye meant that I was foolish to have standards. That I should have accepted whatever scraps of affection Malcolm was willin’ to give me, even if he was sharin’ himself with half the countryside.” Her Scottish accent growing thicker in her agitation.
“Ye’re puttin’ words in me mouth,” Elijah said, and this time the amusement crept fully into his tone. He couldn’t help it.
“Am I? Because that’s certainly what it sounded like to me. What ye said was that I was a fool for havin’ the nerve to expect fidelity from me betrothed. For thinkin’ I deserved better than to be cheated on and humiliated.” She jabbed her finger at him across the table.
“That is nae what I said.”
“Well, let me tell ye somethin’, Elijah Craig.” Her voice had taken on that careful edge that said she was trying not to cause a scene and failing.
“If I hadnae been such a ‘fool’, if I’d been content to marry a man who couldnae keep his word or his hands to himself, then ye wouldnae have a bride at all, would ye?”
He blinked, caught completely off guard. “What?”
“Think about it,” she continued, her logic building steam like a kettle on the boil. “If I’d been the kind of woman who accepts infidelity with a smile and a curtsy, I’d be married to Malcolm Fraser right now instead of sittin’ here arguin’ with ye.”
“Iris.” he warned.
“So maybe, husband, ye should be grateful that I’m such a ‘fool’.”
“Ye’re bein’ dramatic.” he muttered, but his lips were twitching despite himself.
“Dramatic?” she echoed, arms crossing as she glared at him like she might set him on fire through sheer willpower. “Or just continuin’ to be the fool ye married?”
For a moment, they just stared at each other, her eyes blazing, his jaw tight, the air between them crackling like the sky before a Highland storm. And then, amusement broke through again. He could feel the corner of his mouth twitch, fighting a smile.
She’s impossible.
“Are ye laughin’ at me?” she asked, her voice dropping to whisper.
“Nay,” he said quickly though his dark eyes betrayed him with the mirth dancing in them.
“Ye are! Ye’re actually amused by this!” she accused, her voice rising once more. “I’m sittin’ here defendin’ meself against yer insults, and ye think it’s funny?”
“I’m nae laughin’,” he said, failing miserably to sound serious.
“Daenae ye dare deny it! I can see it in yer eyes!”
And God help him, she was right, because Elijah Craig was trying very hard not to laugh and failing entirely. And he knew, if she had her way, at this point she throw something at him.