“What’s he like as a laird?” she asked. “With his people, I mean.”
Aliana’s face brightened immediately. “Och, he’s wonderful. Fair, generous, protective. He’s doubled our harvest yields, negotiated better trade agreements, and keeps us safe from raids.” She leaned closer conspiratorially. “There was a fever two winters past that killed dozens in neighborin’ clans, but nae a single McMurphy died because the Laird brought in healers from Edinburgh and made sure everyone had medicine.”
“That doesnae sound like the actions of a cruel man.”
“Because he isnae cruel, me lady. He’s guarded, careful with his trust, but cruel? Never. Nae to his people, anyway. To his enemies, aye, he can be as ruthless as winter, but that’s what keeps us safe.” Aliana helped her step out of the traveling dress. “He just doesnae ken how to be soft, doesnae ken how to show kindness without seemin’ weak.”
Interesting.
So, the Beast of McMurphy was more complex than his reputation suggested. The question was: which version was the real Elijah Craig? The threatening man who’d forced her into marriage or the fair Laird who protected his people?
“There’s somethin’ else,” Aliana said, lowering her voice. “About ye.”
“What about me?”
“It’s the way he looks at ye.” Aliana’s eyes sparkled with something that might have been mischief.
Iris froze. “What do ye mean?”
“I saw it in the courtyard when ye arrived. It’s nae the way he looked at Lady Margaret. I mean, he’s interested, me lady. Whether he wants to be or nae.”
Iris felt the heat creep up her neck. “That’s ridiculous. He made it clear I’m nothin’ more than a broodmare to him.”
“Did he? Or did he make it clear that he doesnae want to care about ye?” Aliana selected a fresh gown from the wardrobe, a deep blue silk that would complement Iris’ coloring. “Because those are two very different things.”
“I think ye’re readin’ too much into things,” Iris said firmly. “The man threatened me family to get me to marry him—that’s nae the action of someone who cares.”
“Nay,” Aliana agreed. “It’s the action of someone desperate.”
The word hung in the air between them. Desperate—not cruel, not calculating, desperate.
“Desperate for what?”
“For a lady for his clan,” Aliana ventured. “Or for a mother for young Codie. Now, me lady, let me help ye finish getting’ ready. If the Laird doesnae see ye soon, he will send someone to fetch ye.”
Codie. Iris had almost forgotten that the Laird had mentioned his son. She smoothed her gown, feeling more interested than she had since arriving. “What about this ceilidh...”
“It’s traditional when the Laird takes a new wife. The entire clan comes to celebrate. There’s music and dancin’ and enough food to feed an army.” Aliana grinned. “And everyone will be watchin’ to see how ye and the Laird get along.”
Wonderful. Another performance, another test. Which we will very likely fail.
But as Iris caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror and saw the way her hair gleamed, how her gown flattered her figure, and the warm color of her cheeks, she felt ready for whatever came next.
“Tell me,” she said to Aliana as they put the finishing touches on her appearance, “what exactly does everyone expect from their new lady?”
“Everythin’,” Aliana replied honestly. “They want ye to be kind but strong, gentle but fierce, welcomin’ but protective. They want ye to make the Laird happy and give him more sons and somehow fix whatever’s been broken in this castle since Lady Margaret died.”
“Nay pressure at all,” she grimaced.
“None whatsoever,” Aliana agreed with a grin.
A horn sounded from somewhere in the castle, deep and resonant, calling the clan to gather.
“That’s the signal,” Aliana said. “Time to go face the music, me lady.”
Iris took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders, and lifted her chin. She’d survived her parents’ cruelty, a forced marriage, and a bandit attack all in the span of two days. She could certainly handle a Highland celebration.
But as she prepared to leave the chamber and face her new clan as their lady for the first time, one thought echoed in her mind:
