But as they dressed in tense silence and prepared to ride back to the castle, Iris couldn’t help but wonder if he was trying to convince her that this was just an arrangement or if he was trying to convince himself.
The ride back to the castle was torture. Iris sat stiffly in front of Elijah, every muscle tense as she tried to avoid any unnecessary contact, but it was impossible. Every step of the horse pressed her back against his chest and reminded her of how it had felt when his arms were around her in the river, when his mouth had claimed hers with such desperate hunger.
It meant nothing. He made that perfectly clear.
“We’re here,” Elijah said as they entered the courtyard, his voice carefully neutral.
The moment the horse stopped, Iris practically threw herself from the saddle, not waiting for his help. “Thank ye for the... swimmin’ lesson,” she said stiffly, not meeting his eyes.
“Iris—”
“I should go. I have duties to attend to.” She hurried toward the castle before he could say whatever he’d been about to say.
Yes, focus on duties.
The next morning, Iris woke up to find Elijah already gone from their room. Not wanting to think about him, she quickly got dressed and threw herself into learning what it meant to be Lady McMurphy. She started in the kitchens where Cook, a round, cheerful woman named Morag, was delighted to finally have a lady who wanted to discuss household management.
“The previous lady, God rest her soul, never came down here,” Morag explained as they reviewed the weekly menus. “Sweet thing, but she dinnae seem to ken much about runnin’ a household.”
“Well, I’m here now,” Iris said firmly. “What do ye need from me?”
They spent an hour going over supplies, discussing the upcoming harvest feast, and reviewing the servants’ needs. Iris found herself genuinely interested. This was work that mattered, that affected real people’s lives.
“Me lady?” A young serving girl appeared at the kitchen door, wringing her hands nervously. “Could I... might I have a word?”
“Of course. What’s troublin’ ye?”
“It’s Fenella, me lady, the head housemaid. She’s been... well, she’s been takin’ things. Food from the pantry, candles from the stores. And when I tried to speak to her about it, she said I was lyin’.”
Iris looked at Morag, who nodded grimly. “How long has this been goin’ on?”
“It’s been goin’ on for weeks, me lady. We dinnae ken who to tell. The Laird would nae tolerate such dishonesty.”
Margaret wouldnae have kent how to handle this, Iris realized. But I do.
“Take me to her quarters.”
One hour later, Iris sat in the small parlor off the great hall, facing a defiant-looking woman with graying hair and hard eyes. Fenella stood with her arms crossed, her expression challenging.
“I daenae ken what lies ye’ve been told,” Fenella began, “but I ken nothin’.”
“Sit down,” Iris said quietly.
Something in her tone made the woman comply, though reluctantly.
“How long have ye worked here, Fenella?”
“Fifteen years, me lady.”
“That’s a long time. Ye must care about this castle, these people.”
“I do.”
“Then why are ye stealin’ from them?”
The woman’s face flushed. “I’m nae.”
Iria took the bag she had placed beside her. She emptied it of its contents, watching as Fenella’s face paled.
