The thought came unbidden as the carriage rumbled across the main bridge. Below them, the river roared with springtime snowmelt, white foam dancing around the ancient stone pillars that had stood for centuries.
“We’re here,” she whispered, more to herself.
Iris gazed at the courtyard ahead, where servants, guards, and clan members had gathered. There was at least a dozen, all of them waiting to catch a glimpse of their laird’s new bride, the woman who would be their lady.
No pressure at all.
The carriage rolled to a stop with a final jolt, and almost immediately, the door opened. Elijah stood there, looking down at her with those unreadable dark eyes.
“Come,” he said simply. “We’re expected.”
Iris climbed out of the carriage. The moment her feet touched the cobblestones, she felt the weight of dozens of stares. She could practically hear their thoughts.
Will she be kind? Will she be fair? Will she make the Laird happy?
That last one almost made her laugh. Make Elijah Craig happy? The man who’d forced her into marriage? She doubted he was capable of happiness.
“Aliana!” Elijah’s voice cut through her thoughts. “Come here, lass.”
A young woman stepped forward from the crowd, perhaps twenty-three or twenty-four, with auburn hair and intelligent green eyes. She wore a simple brown dress but carried herself with quiet confidence.
“Aye, me laird?”
“This is Lady McMurphy,” Elijah said, his tone formal and distant. “Take her to our chambers, so she can freshen up. There’s a ceilidh tonight in honor of our marriage.”
Our chambers.
The words sent a flutter of panic through her chest. Of course, they’d share chambers—they were married. But somehow, in all her anger and fear, she hadn’t truly considered the practical reality of that fact.
“Of course, me laird.” Aliana stepped forward with a respectful curtsy. “Me lady, if ye’d follow me?”
“Go on,” Elijah said to Iris, already turning away. “I’ll see ye at the celebration.”
And just like that, he had dismissed her, like she was a package to be delivered or a task to be completed. Not his wife, not even a person worth acknowledging beyond the bare minimumcourtesy. Heat flooded her cheeks as she realized the entire courtyard had witnessed the snub—her first moments as Lady McMurphy, and her husband had made it clear she was nothing more than an obligation to him.
“This way, me lady,” Aliana said gently, seeming to sense her humiliation.
Iris lifted her chin and followed the maid toward the castle entrance. She could feel the eyes of the clan on her back, could imagine their whispered conversations.
Poor lass, the Laird clearly has no feelings for her.
Nae much of a welcome for a new bride.
“Ye do realize ye’ll drive her to hatin’ ye within the week if ye keep on so?”
Henry’s voice carried across the empty armory where Elijah was inspecting weapons with unnecessary intensity. The man-at-arms leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching his friend with obvious amusement.
Elijah’s jaw tightened, and he watched Henry’s posture change instantly—the slight shift of weight, the careful change from the amused expression.
Good. Let him remember who he’s speakin' to.
Elijah’s answer came low and hard. “Better she hates me than hopes for more than I can give.”
“More than ye can give? Or more than ye’re willin’ to give?” Henry pushed off from the wall, moving closer. “There’s a difference, ye ken.”
“Is there?” Elijah’s tone was clipped, dismissive. “The result is the same.”
“Nay, it’s nae. One’s about capability, the other’s about choice.” Henry picked up a dagger from the table, testing its weight. “Which one are we talkin’ about here?”
