Codie’s breathing deepened further, his small body relaxing completely into sleep. And still Iris sat there, watching over him like a guardian angel, humming that ancient tune.
This is what he needs, what he’s always needed. Nae me distance and discipline but this warmth and presence.
The thought brought a wave of self-loathing so intense, it nearly knocked him off his feet.
How many nights had Codie lain in this bed, sick or scared or lonely, with only servants to tend him because his father was too busy keeping his distance? How many times had the boy cried himself to sleep, wishing for the kind of comfort that Iris was giving him so naturally now?
Elijah forced himself to move, his boots making soft sounds against the wooden floor as he crossed to the other side of Codie’s bed. He stood there awkwardly, unsure what to do with his hands, uncertain how to position himself in this space that felt simultaneously his and not his at all.
“How is he?” he asked, his voice coming out rougher than he’d intended.
“The healer says it’s just a summer complaint. Nothin’ serious.” Iris finally glanced at him, but her expression was carefully neutral. Just polite acknowledgment of his presence. “He’ll need medicine three times a day for three days, plenty of rest and water, and he should be back to himself.”
“That’s... that’s good. Thank ye for tendin’ to him.”
“It’s what I’m here for, isnae it?” The words were an echo of his own from downstairs, delivered with such perfect politeness that they stung worse than any slap.
“Iris, about what I said earlier, that’s nae what I meant. “
“There’s nay need to discuss it.” She turned her attention back to Codie, one hand reaching out to adjust his blanket even though it didn’t need adjusting. “Ye were perfectly clear about me role in this household. I’m here to tend to yer son and fulfill me wifely duties. I understand completely.”
“I was worried about Codie. I wasnae thinkin’ properly.”
“I ken ye were worried. I could see it in yer face when ye came to find me.” Her voice softened slightly. “But that doesnae excuse speakin’ to me like I’m some sort of... of hired help whose only value is in the services I provide.”
“I’m sorry.” The words felt inadequate even as he said them. “I handled that poorly. I handle most things poorly when it comes to... to people I care about.”
Silence.
“Thank ye,” he finally said quietly, “for promisin’ to teach him horse ridin’ lessons.”
“It’s the least I can do to make him happy.” There was warmth returning to her voice. “Can ye try to tell me when ye’re worried or afraid about somethin’ instead of pushin’ me away?”
Could he?
Looking at his son sleeping between them, at his wife watching him with hope and caution, Elijah realized he didn’t have a choice. Not if he wanted this to work.
“I can try,” he said finally. “I cannae promise I’ll be good at it, but I can try.”
“That’s all I’m askin’.” She smiled. “So, I assume ye’re stayin’?”
She was standing up and gathering her skirts, getting ready to leave the room.
He glanced toward the door, toward the duties waiting elsewhere, then back at Codie. “Aye. I’m stayin’.”
“Good. Because he’ll be happy to see ye by his side when he wakes up.” And she left, then paused at the door for a brief moment. “I’ll be back.”
“The boy’s lovely,” Mairie said as they walked through the gardens that evening. “Such a sweet, bright child.”
“Aye, he is.” Iris bent to examine a late-blooming rose.
“And how are yer feelin’s about yer new husband bloomin’, me lady?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Complicated how?”
“I daenae ken what I’m supposed to feel about Elijah, about bein’ here, about any of it.”
