Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“Lady Iris?” Codie’s small voice cut through their heated exchange like a blade through silk. “Are ye and Faither fightin’?”
All the fight went out of her in an instant, replaced by shame and concern for this child who’d already witnessed too much conflict in his young life.
“We’re nae fightin’, sweetheart,” she said quickly, forcing her voice to gentle tones despite the lingering anger in her chest. “We’re just... havin’ a discussion.”
“It sounded like fightin’,” Codie said uncertainly, his gaze darting between the two adults. “Ye both looked angry. Really angry.”
Iris glanced at Elijah, who had the grace to look slightly ashamed. Whatever had been amusing him about their argument seemed to have faded in the face of his son’s obvious distress.
“Sometimes adults disagree about things,” Elijah said carefully, his own voice gentling. “But that doesnae mean we’re truly fightin’.”
“Are ye sure?” Codie’s voice was small, uncertain in a way that broke Iris’s heart. “Because ye sounded like ye were really mad at each other.”
The innocent observation hit Iris, and she felt her anger drain away completely, replaced by protective tenderness for Codie who was watching them with such fearful hope.
He’s afraid we’ll hurt each other. He’s afraid he’ll lose another maither.
“I’m sorry we raised our voices,” she said gently, reaching out to take his small hand in hers. “That wasnae proper behavior, and it probably scared ye.”
“A little,” Codie admitted quietly.
“Ye’re right to be concerned, laddie,” Elijah added, his own voice rough with what might have been regret.“”
“But ye’re nae really mad at each other?” Codie asked hopefully.
Iris looked across the table at her husband, this man who’d just called her an idiot and then found her resulting fury amusing.
Part of her was still angry with him, still stung by what she perceived as his criticism of her choices.
But looking at Codie’s worried face, she realized that her hurt feelings were far less important than this child’s sense of security.
“Nay, we’re nae really mad,” she said firmly and meant it. “Sometimes people disagree without bein’ truly angry. It’s... normal.”
“Promise?”
The simple word carried so much weight, so much fear wrapped in hope.
“I promise,” Iris said, squeezing his hand gently. “Yer faither and I may have different opinions sometimes, but we’re nae goin’ to hurt each other. That’s nae who we are.”
“Aye, lad,” Elijah added quietly, his dark eyes meeting hers across the table. “Ye have me word on that as well.”
“Hamish told me the stag’s story. It was shot by Hamish’s great-grandfather!” Codie announced, suddenly relaxed and forgetting that anything had happened. “It took him three days to track it through the mountains, and when he finally found it, the beast was bigger than a horse!”
“How excitin’,” Iris managed; her voice was still shaky, but she was grateful for the distraction.
“Tell us all about it,” Elijah encouraged.
Codie’s face split into a grin, and he began speaking so quickly, Iris half-wondered if Elijah would catch a word.
“Well, first he followed the stag’s hoofprints all the way from Glenfinnan. The snow was so deep he almost gave up, but then he found a tuft of fur caught on a thorn bush. He kent he was close then!”
She leaned in slightly, her interest looking genuine despite the thoughts still lingering in her mind. “What color was the fur?”
“Brown, like the earth. Hamish says he carried it the whole way for luck. Then, when he finally saw the stag, it had antlers this wide—” He stretched his arms as far as they would go, nearly knocking over his cup.
She laughed softly, steadying the cup before it toppled. “Och, that must’ve been a grand sight. Did he shoot it right away?”
“Nay!” Codie’s eyes grew wide. “He waited until the wind changed, else the beast would’ve scented him and bolted. Then he aimed his bow and—” Codie clapped his hands together with a loud crack that startled the people at the nearest table. “Down it went with one shot!”
“Three days of stalkin’ and only one arrow?” she asked, clearly impressed.
“Aye!” Codie said proudly. “Hamish says it was the bravest hunt in all the clan’s history.”
“It sounds great.” She gave him a warm smile.
Codie continued, oblivious to the tightness in the air. “And Hamish says the meat from that stag fed the village through the winter, else half of them might’ve starved.”
Her smile softened further. “Then Hamish’s great-grandfather saved lives that winter. That makes the story even grander.”
Codie nodded so hard his curls bounced. “That’s what I said! He’s a hero, aye?”
“Aye,” she agreed. “A true hero.”
She saw Elijah sit back in his chair, letting Codie’s excited voice wash over him. It seemed to be the first time he saw his son talking this freely in public.
“Can we go see the puppet show now?”
“Of course,” she said immediately, grateful for the distraction. “That sounds wonderful.”
As they gathered their things and prepared to leave the tavern, Iris found herself determinedly avoiding Elijah’s gaze. She was still stung by his comment, still confused by his amusement at her anger. But more than that, she was embarrassed by her own behavior.
They made their way through the festival crowds toward the puppet show, Codie chattering excitedly between them while Iris maintained a careful distance from her husband. She responded to Codie’s questions and observations but directed not a single word toward Elijah.
“Look, there’s the puppet stage!” Codie pointed excitedly at a small wooden theater set up in the village square.
“Aye, I see it,” Iris replied warmly. “What do ye think the story will be about?”
“Knights and dragons, maybe? Or pirates and treasure?”
“Could be neither. We’ll have to wait and see.”
As they found spots to stand and watch the performance, Elijah moved closer to her side. She could feel the warmth radiating from his large frame, could smell the familiar scent of leather and something uniquely masculine that always made her pulse quicken despite herself.
“Iris,” he said quietly, his voice pitched low so only she could hear.
She kept her eyes fixed firmly on the puppet stage where the performers were setting up their show. “What?”
“About what I said in the tavern.”
“I daenae wish to discuss it.” Her voice was cool, polite, and completely closed off.
“But ye misunderstood it.”
“Did I? Because I heard ye quite clearly.” She still didn’t look at him. “Now hush, the show is startin’.”
She stood with Codie at the puppet show, laughing at the antics and clapping when the carved figures tumbled about.
“Oh, look at him go!” she cried as the wooden fox chased the rooster across the tiny stage.
Codie giggled so hard he had to clutch her skirts to keep from toppling over. “That fox is daft! He’ll never catch it!”
“Then he’ll have to try harder, will he nae?” Iris grinned, giving Codie’s curls an affectionate ruffle.
When the show ended, a young woman approached, eyeing Iris’ gown with open admiration. “Me lady, that’s the finest dress I’ve ever seen,” she said, her voice full of awe.
Iris’s smile softened. “Thank ye kindly. It was made by a talented seamstress at the keep. I daenae deserve the credit.”
The woman blushed at the attention and bobbed a quick curtsy before hurrying off.
A moment later, an older man with a weathered face stepped forward, doffing his cap respectfully. “Me lady, me laird,” he said, nodding at both of them, “how go the harvest preparations at the castle?”
Iris’s head turned politely in Elijah’s direction without quite letting her gaze touch his. “Me husband would ken the most about that,” she said smoothly, stepping just enough to the side to let Elijah answer.
Elijah’s tone was even, but she could feel his eyes on her. “They go well,” he said. “We’ll be ready by week’s end, barrin’ any surprises with the weather.”
The man nodded approvingly. “Good to hear. A fine thing to have our Laird and Lady join the village for the festival. Shows good faith, it does.”
“Aye, it does,” Iris agreed warmly, still looking at the villager rather than Elijah. “Thank ye for sayin’ so.”
When they moved on to the ring toss booth, Codie bounced on his heels in excitement. “Can I try? Please?”
“Of course, ye can!” she said brightly, crouching to pick up a ring and handing it to him. “Remember, focus on the peg and give it a gentle toss.”
Codie threw and missed by a mile.
“Close enough!” Iris encouraged, laughing. “Try again; ye’ll get it this time.”
Elijah reached over to hand his son another ring, his hand brushing Iris’ in the process. She stepped aside smoothly, pretending not to notice, her attention fully on Codie.
“Perfect throw, lad!” she called as the next ring landed neatly around the peg. “Well done!”
Codie beamed, turning to Elijah. “Did ye see that, Da?”
“I did,” Elijah said with a faint smile, though his eyes remained fixed on Iris. “Yer stepmaither’s quite the encourager.”
Iris clapped for Codie’s next attempt as though she hadn’t heard him at all.
For the next hour, Iris maintained her distance.
She could feel Elijah’s growing frustration like heat from a banked fire.
Several times, she caught him starting to speak to her, only to stop when she turned away or busied herself with something else.
The path through the market square had narrowed with the press of festivalgoers, everyone jostling toward the music and the food stalls.
Elijah reached out, his large hand closing gently around Iris’ elbow.
“Careful there,” he said, steering her toward a clearer path.
Iris stopped just short of letting him guide her. Instead, she turned to a passing villager with a friendly smile. “Would ye mind helpin’ me through?”
The man, a burly fellow with kind eyes, immediately offered his arm. “Of course, me lady.”
“Thank ye.” Iris slipped her hand through his offered arm, letting him lead her around a pair of laughing children and a cart piled high with turnips.
Elijah’s hand fell back to his side, and she noted the way his jaw tightened as she walked ahead with perfect poise, chatting lightly with the villager as though nothing were amiss.
“Ye’ve a careful step, me lady,” the man said cheerfully.
“I’ve learned it’s the only way to keep from trippin’ on me hem,” Iris replied with a laugh that carried back to Elijah, sweet and infuriating all at once.
By the time they reached the other side of the crowd, she released the man’s arm with a gracious nod. “Thank ye kindly for yer help.”
“Any time, me lady,” he said before moving off toward one of the booths.
Iris glanced at Codie and offered him a bright smile then continued on as if nothing had happened, leaving Elijah to follow behind.
By the time the afternoon began to wane, she saw that Elijah’s jaw was tight with what looked like barely controlled irritation. But there was something else in his expression too, something that might have been admiration for her skill at giving him the cold shoulder without being obviously rude.
“We might as well head back,” he announced looking up at the late afternoon sky.
“Of course,” Iris replied pleasantly. “Codie, are ye ready to go home?”
“Can we come back tomorrow?” the boy asked hopefully.
“The festival only lasts one day, sweetheart,” she explained. “But perhaps we can visit other villages when they have their celebrations.”
“Really? We can do this again?”
“If yer da thinks it’s appropriate,” she said, finally glancing at Elijah for the first time in hours.
His dark eyes met hers, and she saw frustration there but also something that looked suspiciously like amusement again. As if her campaign of polite avoidance had entertained him more than annoyed him.
Insufferable man.
“Aye,” he said, still watching her face. “I think we can manage that.”
The ride home was conducted in much the same manner.
Iris chatted cheerfully with Codie about everything they’d seen and done but addressed not a word Elijah.
When he made observations about the festival or asked questions about her impressions, she either ignored him completely or gave such brief, polite responses that it was clear the conversation was over.
By the time they reached the castle, Iris had perfected the art of acknowledging her husband’s existence while simultaneously making it clear that she had nothing to say to him.
It was a delicate balance of wifely duty and personal displeasure, and she was rather proud of how well she was managing it.