He stared at her, this woman who somehow managed to see past all his defenses. “I daenae ken how to be different. This is all I’ve known—this distance, this control. Me faither taught me that showin’ emotion was a weakness, and I believed him for so long that I daenae ken how to undo it.”
“Then let me help ye.” Her voice was gentle but firm. “Let me teach ye how to reach Codie. How to show him ye care without it feelin’ like ye’re exposin’ yer throat.”
“And if I fail? If I try and still make things worse?”
“Then we’ll figure it out together. But Elijah…” She moved even closer, her hand settling over his heart. “… ye cannae keep shuttin’ yer son out. He’s already losin’ faith that ye care about him. If ye keep this up, eventually he’ll stop tryin’ to reach ye altogether, and then it’ll be too late.”
The words hit like a physical blow. The thought of Codie giving up on him, of his son looking at him with indifference instead of that desperate hope, made something twist painfully in his chest.
“I daenae want that.”
“Then change it. Ye have the power to change it.” Her fingers pressed against his chest, right above his racing heart. “Start small. Spend time with him, ask about his day. Tell him stories. Let him see ye’re nae just the Laird but also his da.”
“What kind of stories would I tell? I daenae have happy childhood memories to share.”
“Then tell him about yer horse, about battles ye’ve fought, about the clan’s history.” Iris’s expression softened. “Or better yet, ask him to tell ye stories. Let him show ye his imagination. Ye’d be surprised what ye can learn about yer own son if ye just listen.”
Elijah was quiet for a long moment, turning her words over in his mind. It sounded so simple when she said it. Just spend time with Codie. Just talk to him, just be present.
But the execution felt impossible.
“What if he doesnae want me there? What if I’ve pushed him away so much that he’d rather have just ye?”
“That boy worships ye, Elijah. He’d be thrilled if ye showed even the smallest interest in spendin’ time with him.” She paused. “In fact, when he’s better, I promised to teach him how to ride a horse. Ye should be there.”
“Ye want me to help teach him to ride?”
“I want ye to be part of his life. And ridin’ lessons are a perfect opportunity.” She smiled. “Besides, ye ken far more about horses than I do. Ye could teach him things I cannae.”
“Like what?”
“Like how to care for a horse properly. How to check hooves for stones. How to adjust stirrups and saddles.” Her eyes sparkled. “All the practical things a Highland warrior needs to ken.”
“And ye’d want me there? Even though ye’re perfectly capable of teachin’ him yerself?”
“I’d want ye there because ye’re his Da, and he needs ye there.” Her voice was firm. “And because I think it would be good for both of ye. Give ye time together doin’ somethin’ active instead of just sittin’ and starin’ at each other awkwardly.”
The image made something warm unfold in his chest. He and Codie in the paddock, teaching the boy the same skills Elijah’s own father had taught him, except better. Kinder. With encouragement instead of criticism, with patience instead of demands for immediate perfection.
“Ye really think it would work? That I could do this without ruinin’ it?”
“I think ye willnae ken unless ye try.” She squeezed his arm. “And I’ll be right there to help. If ye start growlin’ or glowerin’ too much, I’ll step in.”
“I daenae growl.”
“Ye do. Like a bear wakin’ from winter sleep.” Her smile was teasing. “But we’ll work on that.”
Despite the heaviness of their conversation, despite the fear still churning in his gut, Elijah felt his mouth curve into something that might have been a smile. “Ye’re very confident in yer ability to reform me.”
“Someone has to be, since ye’ve given up on yerself entirely.” She moved away from him, heading toward one of the library chairs. “Now, all this serious conversation has left me parched. Where do ye keep the whisky in this place?”
The abrupt change of subject caught him off guard. “The whisky?”
“Aye. I want a drink.” She glanced back at him over her shoulder. “Unless ye’re one of those men who thinks women shouldnae partake?”
“I daenae care what ye drink. I’m just surprised ye want whisky instead of wine or ale.”
“I like whisky. Me faither used to sneak me drams when Maither wasnae lookin’—said a proper Highland lass should ken how to hold her drink.” Her expression grew wistful. “It was one of the few things we did together that felt like he actually enjoyed me company.”
