Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
“I’ve decided to stay a bit longer.”
Lydia’s voice carried across the breakfast table the next morning, her tone apologetic but firm. “If that’s still acceptable, me laird. I just... I want to make certain me sister is truly settled before I return to the convent.”
Elijah’s hand tightened on his fork. Three days. He’d given her three days, and now, she was asking for more time. Time to whisper doubts in Iris’ ear. Time to plant seeds of discontent. Time to convince his wife that she’d be better off anywhere but here.
“How much longer?” His voice came out flat, controlled.
“Perhaps a week? Maybe two?” Lydia looked between him and Iris. “I ken it’s an imposition, but I havenae seen me sister in so long.”
“Do what ye wish.” He stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the stone floor. “It’s nay concern of mine how long ye stay.”
“Elijah,” Iris started, but he was already moving toward the door.
“I have business to attend to. Excuse me.”
He strode from the hall before she could respond, ignoring the confused look on Codie’s face and the hurt expression on Iris’. His boots echoed through the corridors as he made his way to his solar, each step punctuated by the rising anger in his chest.
Do what ye wish. It’s nay concern of mine.
The words were lies, and he knew it. Every minute Lydia stayed was another minute she had to poison Iris against him. Another chance for his wife to realize she’d made a terrible mistake marrying the Beast of McMurphy when she could have had freedom instead.
He slammed the solar door behind him, moving immediately to the sideboard where he kept his whisky. It was barely past dawn, too early for drinking, but he poured himself a dram anyway.
She’s going to leave. Lydia’s going to convince her to leave.
The thought sent something cold and vicious through his veins because hadn’t he always known this was temporary?
But knowing it intellectually was different from facing reality. Different from watching her sister arrive and offer her an escape route she might actually take.
I should never have let meself care. Should have kept me distance like I planned.
A knock sounded at the door.
“What?” The word came out harsh, aggressive.
Henry’s head appeared. “Bad time?”
“Always a bad time when ye’re involved. What do ye want?”
“Charmin’ as ever, I see.” Henry entered anyway, closing the door behind him. “I heard the sister’s stayin’ longer. That must please ye.”
“Must it?”
“I was bein’ sarcastic. Ye look like ye’re about to murder someone.” Henry settled into the chair across from his desk. “Want to talk about it?”
“Nay.”
“Want me to guess?”
“Nay.”
“I’m going to anyway.” Henry leaned back, studying him.
“Ye’re worried Lydia’s going to convince Iris to leave.
Ye’re afraid yer wife will realize she’s made a mistake marryin’ ye.
And instead of doing the reasonable thing, like talkin’ to Iris about yer concerns, ye’re hidin’ in here drinkin’ whisky before breakfast and pretendin’ ye daenae care. ”
Elijah’s jaw clenched. “Ye talk too much.”
“Someone has to since ye refuse to talk at all.”
“Look, I daenae care what Lydia needs. She abandoned her responsibilities and left Iris to clean up her mess. She has nay right to question anythin’ now.”
“But she’s doing it anyway. And instead of reassurin’ her, instead of showin’ her that Iris is happy, ye’re walkin’ around like a storm cloud about to break.” Henry crossed his arms. “Ye’re makin’ it worse, ye ken that?”
“She has her sister now. She doesnae need me hoverin’ over her like some jealous fool. Lydia will leave soon enough,” Elijah said, his voice hard. “And then things will go back to normal.”
Henry stood. “Talk to her. Before ye do somethin’ stupid that ye cannae undo.”
He left before Elijah could respond, leaving him alone with his whisky and his spiraling thoughts.
The day passed in a blur of forced normalcy. Elijah threw himself into work, reviewing accounts, meeting with his steward, inspecting the armory. Anything to avoid thinking about Iris and her sister spending the day together. Anything to avoid imagining what they might be discussing.
By evening, his mood had deteriorated further. He snapped at servants, growled at Henry during training, and generally made everyone around him miserable.
When supper came, he considered skipping it entirely, but that would be too obvious. Too cowardly.
So, he sat through the meal in grim silence, contributing nothing to the conversation while Iris and Lydia chatted about their childhood. About their parents. About anything and everything except him.
She’s already leavin’ in her mind. Already distancin’ herself.
“Da, are ye all right?” Codie’s small voice broke through his thoughts. “Ye havenae eaten much.”
“I’m fine, lad.” The words came out harsher than intended. “Just tired.”
“Oh.” Codie’s face fell, and immediately, Elijah hated himself.
But before he could apologize, Iris was speaking. “Perhaps ye should retire early then. Get some rest.”
Was that concern in her voice? Or was she just eager for him to leave so she could talk freely with her sister?
“Perhaps I will.” He stood, his napkin falling to the table. “Good night.”
He left without looking back.
The next three days followed the same pattern. Elijah threw himself into work, avoided Iris whenever possible, and grew increasingly cold and distant. He told himself it was for the best. That maintaining his walls would make it easier when she eventually left.
But the walls he’d rebuilt so carefully weren’t keeping her out, they were suffocating him.
And Iris noticed. Of course, she noticed.
He saw it in the way she watched him across the dinner table, concern warring with hurt in her brown eyes.
Heard it in her voice when she tried to engage him in conversation, and he shut her down with curt responses.
Felt it in the growing distance between them, a chasm he was creating one cold word at a time.
This is what I’m good at. Pushin’ people away. Destroyin’ what matters.
On the fourth day, he was in his solar reviewing grain reports when a knock sounded at the door. Sharp, determined. Not a servant’s timid tap.
“Come in,” he said without looking up.
The door opened then closed with more force than necessary.
“We need to talk.”
Iris. Of course.
“I’m busy.” He kept his eyes on the parchment in front of him though the words had long since stopped making sense. “Whatever it is can wait.”
“Nay, it cannae.” Her footsteps approached his desk. “Elijah, look at me.”
“I said I’m busy.”
“And I said we need to talk. Now.”
The steel in her voice finally made him look up. She stood before his desk, still in her riding clothes, her hair slightly mussed from the wind. Her expression was a mixture of determination and barely controlled frustration.
Beautiful. Even angry, she was beautiful.
“I daenae have time for this.” He forced his gaze back to the parchment. “Was there somethin’ specific ye needed, or are ye just here to waste me time?”
He heard her sharp intake of breath, felt rather than saw her stiffen.
“What I need,” she said, her voice dangerously quiet, “is for me husband to explain why he’s been actin’ like a complete arse for the past four days.”
“Arse? Watch yer tongue, lass. Ye’re speakin’ to yer laird.”
“I’m speakin’ to me husband. In his study. In private.” She moved around the desk, forcing herself into his line of vision. “And I’m nae leavin’ until ye tell me what’s wrong.”
“Nothin’ is wrong. Now, if ye’ll excuse me.”
“Nay. I willnae excuse ye.” She planted her hands on his desk, leaning forward until he had no choice but to meet her eyes.
“Ye’ve been cold, distant, barely speakin’ to me or Codie.
Ye leave rooms when I enter them. Ye avoid me at every turn.
So, either tell me what I’ve done to offend ye, or stop actin’ like a petulant child. ”
The words only managed to stoke the anger that had been festering for days into something hotter, more dangerous.
“I daenae appreciate bein’ questioned in me own castle.” He stood, using his height to loom over her. “Especially nae by a wife who seems to have forgotten her place.”
“Me place?” Her eyes flashed. “This is me castle too now, or have ye forgotten? As yer wife, I have every right to question ye when ye’re behavin’ like this.”
“Ye became me wife by simple coincidence. Because yer sister ran away, and ye were convenient.” The words came out cold, brutal. “So daenae let that give ye the misconception that ye can question me whenever ye please.”
He saw her flinch, saw the hurt flash across her face, hated himself for doing this to her, but he didn’t stop. The fear, the anger, the desperation, it all poured out in the worst possible way.
“I warned ye from the beginnin’ nae to expect love or even any affection from me.
If ye’ve developed some foolish delusions about what this marriage is, then ye’re more naive than I thought.
” He moved toward the door, needing distance from her before he said something even worse.
He held it open. “Now if ye’ll excuse me, I have actual work to do. Ye should return to yer sister.”
“Elijah.”
“Leave.” The word came out as a command, brooking no argument. “Now.”
For a long moment, she just stared at him, her chest heaving with emotion. He could see tears gathering in her eyes though she refused to let them fall. And beneath the hurt, he saw something else, a fury that matched his own.
“Ye’re right,” she said finally, her voice shaking.
“I have been naive. Foolish, even. Because I actually started to believe ye when ye said ye cared. I actually thought ye were tryin’ to be different, to be better.
” She laughed, but it was bitter, broken.
“But I should have known better. Should have remembered that ye’re exactly what everyone says ye are, the Beast of McMurphy.
Cold, cruel, incapable of actual feelin’. ”