Elijah stopped walking. He turned back slowly, and the look on his face made Iris’ stomach clench with dread. There was something predatory in those eyes, something that suggested her father was about to make a very dangerous mistake.
“Are ye tellin’ me ye daenae want to honor yer agreement?” His voice was deceptively soft.
“Of course, we want to honor it!” Edward’s voice cracked like a boy’s. “But Iris is... well, she’s nae what ye need in a wife. She’s too independent, too stubborn. She throws knives as a hobby for God’s sake!”
There it is.
The familiar list of everything wrong with her.
“She reads too much,” her mother added, stepping forward with that false, desperate smile that Iris could recognize from a mile away. “Gets ideas above her station. And her appearance...”Catherine gestured helplessly at her daughter. “She’s too tall, too... substantial. Nae delicate like a proper Highland lady should be.”
Too fat. Just say it, Maither.
Iris kept her expression carefully blank, but inside, she was dying a little more with each word.
“She’s nothin’ like Lydia,” Catherine continued, warming to her theme. “Lydia is gentle, sweet, biddable. She’s everythin’ a Highland laird needs in a wife. She’s prettier too, more refined. If ye just give us time to find her, bring her back, she’ll be everythin’ ye want.”
Iris was absolutely certain he would agree. Who wouldn’t want beautiful, perfect Lydia over the family disappointment? Even she thought her parents were making perfect sense. Lydia was everything a man could want—soft where Iris was hard, gentle where Iris was fierce, beautiful where Iris was merely... adequate.
She waited for his nod of agreement, for the inevitable moment when he would see sense and reject her just like everyone else had.
“Nay.”
The single word cut through the air like a blade. Elijah’s eyes were cold as he looked at her parents.
Iris felt her world tilt sideways.
What?
“But me laird,” Catherine pressed on, clearly as shocked as Iris felt, “surely ye can see that Lydia would be the better choice? She’s everythin’ that would make a good lady for yer clan.”
“Are ye deaf, woman?” Elijah’s voice dropped to a dangerous whisper that made the hair on Iris’ arms stand up. “I said nay.”
Iris felt surprise and confusion twist in her chest, and underneath it all, a treacherous flutter of something that might have been hope. He was dismissing their arguments like they were children babbling nonsense.
Elijah stepped closer to her parents, and even from across the room, Iris could feel the menace radiating from him like heat from a forge. “Let me make somethin’ very clear. I came here for a bride. I’m leavin’ with one. The only question is whether that bride will be willin’ or whether I’ll have to take more... drastic measures to ensure me son has a mother.”
Son?
This was the first Iris had heard about a child. The knowledge hit her hard. She wouldn’t just be marrying this dangerous stranger, she’d be expected to mother his child.
Catherine went pale as death. “Ye wouldnae dare.”
His smile was razor-sharp and twice as cutting. “Ye seem to forget that yer family owes me a considerable debt beyond this marriage contract. Land grants, trade agreements, protection from raiders...” He let the words hang in the air like a sword over their heads. “All of which depend on me continued goodwill.”
Protection?
Iris felt her stomach drop to somewhere around her feet. She’d known about the marriage contract. It was a normal arrangement in the Highlands. But these other agreements? The debts and obligations that apparently bound her family to this man?
“How much do ye owe me clan in grain tribute this year?” Elijah continued conversationally, as if discussing the weather rather than her family’s potential destruction. “And wasnae it me men who helped ye put down that cattle raid last spring? What do ye think happens to yer pretty castle when I withdraw me support and tell the MacLeods that the Douglas lands are... unprotected?”
Edward’s face went from red to gray. “Ye cannae do that.”
“I can do whatever I please,” Elijah said simply, and Iris believed him completely. There was something in his voice, in his bearing, that spoke of absolute power wielded without conscience. “I’m nae some minor Laird ye can manipulate with pretty words and prettier daughters. Cross me, and I’ll crush ye.”
Iris stared at this man who was calmly threatening to destroy her family, and she felt a chill that had nothing to do with the stone walls surrounding them.
This is who they want me to marry.
