I know this will bring shame on our family, and I know they’ll blame you for not stoppin’ me. I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry for being such a coward when you’ve always been so brave.
I’ll go somewhere. Anywhere, as long as they’ll take me in. Even if it’s a convent. I’ll write to you when I’m safe, but please, please don’t tell anyone about me letter. Let them think I’ve vanished into the mist like some fairy tale princess. It’s better that way.
I love you, sister. Forgive me.
Lydia
The letter slipped from Iris’ numb fingers, fluttering to the floor like a dying bird. Her gentle, sweet twin was gone. Had fled in the night rather than face marriage to Laird McMurphy.
The practical part of her mind immediately began calculating the disaster this would bring down on their family. A broken betrothal was one thing, but a bride who disappeared on her wedding day? The shame would destroy them. Her father’s political alliances, her mother’s social standing, everything would crumble.
And Lydia was right.
Everyone will blame me. They always do.
She snatched the letter from the floor and moved to the fireplace. The overnight fire was already burning low, but there was enough heat left. Without hesitation, she fed the parchment to the flames, watching her sister’s confession curl and blacken into ash.
“I’ll keep yer secret,” she whispered to the empty room. “Whatever comes next, I’ll keep ye safe.”
The walk to the great hall felt like marching to her execution. She could hear voices before she even reached the doors. Her father’s booming tones, her mother’s higher pitch. They werediscussing something about the seating arrangements for the wedding feast.
She pushed open the heavy oak doors and stepped inside. Her parents stood near the long tables, already dressed in their finest clothes, her mother directing servants who were laying out silver platters while her father squinted at some parchment he held.
“Ah, Iris!” Edward looked up, and for the first time in years, he gave Iris a hint of a smile. “Perfect timin’. We were just reviewin’ the final details for today’s celebration. Have ye been to wake Lydia? She should be gettin’ ready by now.”
“The bride shouldnae keep her groom waitin’,” Catherine added, adjusting a flower arrangement with nervous energy. “Though I suppose she’s allowed a few extra moments on her weddin’ day. If ye and her have trouble arrangin’ her hair, Moira can?—”
“She’s gone,” Iris interrupted quietly.
Her parents froze. A silver goblet slipped from a servant’s hands, clattering to the stone floor.
“Gone?” Catherine’s voice came out as barely a whisper. “What do ye mean, gone?”
“I mean she’s nae in her chamber. Her bed hasnae been slept in. She left sometime durin’ the night.”
Edward’s face slowly drained of color then flushed dark red. “Gone where?”
“I daenae ken.” The words slipped out easier than she expected. “She left nay word, nay explanation.”
Her father’s hand cracked across her cheek before she saw it coming. The sharp sting brought tears to her eyes, but she held her ground.
“This is yer fault!” he roared. “Ye poisoned her mind against the match! Ye and yer books and yer wild ideas about women choosin’ their own paths!”
“Edward,” Catherine warned, but her voice lacked conviction.
“Nay, Catherine. This is what comes of indulgin’ her rebellious nature. She’s corrupted Lydia with her nonsense.” He grabbed Iris by the shoulders, his fingers digging into her flesh. “Where has she gone? Ye ken. I can see it in yer eyes.”
“I daenae ken,” Iris repeated, meeting his furious gaze steadily. “And even if I did, I wouldnae tell ye.”
He raised his hand again, but a voice from the shadows stopped him cold.
“It doesnae matter. I can just marry yer other daughter.”
Iris whirled around, her heart slamming against her ribs. A man stepped out of the shadows near the entrance, and the breath left her lungs in a rush.
He was the most attractive man she had ever seen.
Tall and broad-shouldered with dark hair that caught the morning light and eyes the color of storm clouds. His face was all sharp angles and harsh beauty. The kind that belonged in ancient legends about warrior kings. But it was the way he moved that made her pulse quicken, like a predator who knew exactly how dangerous he was.
