Elijah glanced sharply at Iris. He was not entirely surprised at what Malcolm had done since some men were born fools, but Iris said it in a resigned way, as if she’d expected no better.
“He was unfaithful to ye,” he said, his voice dangerously quiet.
“Aye. And when I confronted him about it, he told me...” She stopped, shaking her head. “It doesnae matter what he said.”
“It matters to me. What did he say?”
Iris looked down at her hands which were clenched tightly in her lap. “He said that a man couldnae be expected to remain faithful to someone like me for five years. That I was lucky he was willin’ to marry me at all, given me... shortcomin's.”
Shortcomin's.
The word made Elijah want to hunt down this Malcolm and introduce him to the sharp end of a sword.
“What shortcomin’s?” he demanded.
“Well...” She gestured vaguely at herself. “I’m nae exactly what most men would consider a prize, am I? Too tall, too curvy, tooopinionated. Malcolm said I should be grateful for any attention at all, nae demandin’ fidelity as well.”
The matter-of-fact way she recited these supposed flaws made something violent uncurl in Elijah’s chest. “And ye believed him?”
“I... what do ye mean?”
“I mean did ye actually believe that rubbish about bein’ lucky to have his attention?” His voice was getting louder, drawing curious glances from other patrons. “Did ye honestly think ye deserved to be treated like that?”
“I...” Iris looked confused by his vehemence. “I ken I’m nae the most desirable woman in Scotland. Me parents made that clear enough over the years. I’m practical about me limitations.”
“Limitations.” He repeated the word like it tasted foul. “What limitations would those be?”
“Elijah, I daenae understand why ye’re gettin’ so serious.”
“What limitations?” His tone was hard and dry.
She flinched, but answered anyway. “Well, as I said, I’m nae conventionally beautiful like me sister. I’m too outspoken, too independent. I daenae have the gentle, biddable nature that most men prefer in a wife. I ken these things about meself.”
“And because of these supposed flaws, ye think ye deserved to have a faithless bastard of a betrothed?”
“I dinnae deserve it,” she said quickly. “That’s why I ended the engagement. I may nae be the best catch in the Highlands, but I willnae tolerate infidelity.”
“Ye’re bein’ an idiot,” he said flatly.
The words hung in the air between them. Iris went very still, her face flushing with hurt and anger.
“I beg yer pardon?”
“I said ye’re bein’ an idiot, and it doesnae become ye.” He leaned forward, his voice intense. “This self-deprecatin’ nonsense, this idea that ye’re somehow lackin’, it’s complete rubbish.”
“It’s nae.”
“It is. And the fact that ye can sit there and recite a list of yer supposed shortcomin’s like ye actually believe them makes ye sound like a fool.”
Hurt flashed across her features, quickly followed by anger. “I’m sorry if me realistic assessment of me own worth offends ye.”
“Yer assessment is anythin’ but realistic.” He was leaning across the table now, close enough to see the gold flecks in her brown eyes. “Tell me, what exactly makes ye think ye’re nae beautiful?”
“I...” She seemed taken aback by the direct question. “I’m nae fishin’ for compliments, if that’s what ye think.”
“I’m nae offerin’ compliments. I’m asking a simple question. What makes ye think ye’re nae beautiful?”
“Because I’m nae.” Her voice was getting smaller, less certain. “Everyone kens that. Me parents, Malcolm, people at court...”
