Hearts of Highland Fire

Chapter 2

2

Iris picked up the dagger and admired the steel in the midafternoon light, looking for any imperfection that might have been left on the blade. The handle carved out of bone was one of her favorites and had been her grandfather’s when he was a lad. She had gotten it in her fifteenth year, and it went with her everywhere she went.

Sliding it into her satchel, Iris selected another knife to pack amongst her things. Her father would laugh if he could see the number of weapons she was choosing to take to the gathering, but considering that many of those in attendance were their enemies, Iris wasn’t taking any chances.

There was a knock at her open chamber door, and Iris turned to see her sister, Gretna, standing in the doorway, her hands clutching a bundle of fabric.

“I cannae believe ye are leaving yet again,” Lena started as she stepped inside. “Ye just got back.”

“Och, ye wilnae miss me tae long,” Iris told her sister, nodding to the bundle. “Wot do ye have there?”

Lena handed it to Iris. “’Tis for ye. For the gathering.”

Curious, Iris took the bundle and shook it out, revealing a moss-green gown with lovely embroidered roses along the square neckline.

“’Tis lovely, Gretna,” Iris replied, thrusting the gown back to her sister. “But I cannae accept such a gift. Ye keep it.”

She had no need for a gown at all, far more comfortable in her tunics and leggings than a gown that would only get in her way. Her sisters much preferred the gowns, but they also didn’t like to swing a sword or go into battle.

Iris, on the other hand, enjoyed both.

“Nay!” Gretna replied, refusing to take the gown from Iris’s grasp. “Ye need a gown, Iris. There will be dancing and who knows wot ye may find.”

Iris let out a chuckle as she laid the gown on the bed. “Gretna, I’m not interested in finding anything or anyone.”

Her sister frowned, her hands trailing over the gown. “But ye cannae want tae be a warrior all yer days, Iris. Wot aboot yer own family one day?”

“I dinnae need a family,” Iris replied as she gathered up a few articles of clothing and shoved them into the satchel. “I have all I need. Ye should be thinking aboot yer future, not mine.”

Iris never had designs on finding a lad that was worthy of marrying and having bairns with. The only thing in her life that was of importance was her place in her father’s warriors. That was all she had ever wished for.

Other lasses her age already had a passel of bairns clinging to their skirts, but not Iris. She was not a lass who wished to be dependent on a Scot and tend to her own home.

Not at all.

“I have thought aboot mah future,” her sister said dreamily, her eyes growing soft. “I am going tae find a Scot who is brawny and handsome, one that will pick me off mah feet and give me everything I wish for.”

Iris took a seat next to her sister, nudging her just a little. “Wot aboot love and affection? Dinnae ye not wish for that?”

“Of course,” Gretna snapped, her pale green eyes flashing. “That is a given, Iris. I will marry for love and love only.”

Iris smirked at her sister’s demands. Gretna enjoyed having her head in the clouds and believed that only love was good enough for her. Though Iris had warned her sister not to fall for some fanciful notion, she saw it every time Gretna was around. Either her sister was going to find someone giving her what she wished for or she was going to have her heart broken.

She hoped for her sister’s sake that it was the latter.

“Well, I’m not interested,” Iris finally said, wrapping her arm around her sister’s shoulders. “I only love mahself.”

“Ye cannae keep yer bed warm at night,” Gretna argued, shaking her head.

“Oh?” Iris asked. “Wot do ye know aboot warming beds?”

Gretna’s cheeks pinkened. “I mean, I overheard one of the servants talking aboot it.”

“Which wasnae meant for yer ears,” Iris chided softly, squeezing her sister’s shoulders. “Be careful, Gretna. Not every Scot is a kind one.”

Gretna nodded, and they shared a quick embrace before her sister stood, smoothing her skirts.

“One day we will all be forced tae wed, Sister.”

“Perhaps ye and Lena,” Iris finished, standing as well. “But not me.”

It wasn’t until after her sister had quit Iris’s chamber that Iris realized she had left behind the gown. Picking it up, Iris held it to her body, the rich green reminding her of a summer pasture. Her sister had clearly taken great care of the gown; it was far too much for the likes of Iris.

Far too much.

Would there be dancing? Iris hadn’t attended a gathering with her father before, always left behind or on the battlefield instead of gallivanting across Scotland. If she dared ask her brothers, they would laugh at her, calling her the one word she despised—lass. Iris detested when they saw her as a weaker sex, knowing she could hold her own against them any day. She could fight with the best of them, outrun and outride many of her father’s warriors without a second thought.

Snorting, Iris folded the dress and without hesitating, shoved it in her satchel as well. She would have no need for the gown but at least Gretna would know that Iris took it with her.

After Iris finished gathering her things, she walked down to the main hall where her brothers were seated at the table with their father, discussing their most recent skirmish.

“Och, there ye are,” her father replied as Iris took her seat. “I hear that ye want tae compete in the gathering games.”

“Aye,” Iris replied, lifting her chin and daring him to deny her request. “I can beat the best of them.”

Ian chuckled as he picked up his ale. “Aye, dear sister. Even if ye cannae, ye will find a way tae do so.”

Her father frowned. “I dinnae think ye should participate in the games, lass. I need ye by mah side.”

“Tae do wot?” she asked. “Tae look like a proper lass? Da, they will take one look at me and see that isnae the case.”

“Hear! Hear!” Stephan laughed, holding up his own tin mug to clink it with Ian’s. “Let her participate, Da. We have nary an interest tae do so.”

“Fine,” her father grumbled, waving his hand at his children. “Do as ye wish, Iris. ’Tis not like I could stop ye anyway.”

Iris grinned as she thought about representing her clan in the games. Her brothers likely wished to chase the lasses and drink themselves into oblivion, but Iris had loftier goals, and that was for their clan to be on top of the games when the gathering was complete.

It wasn’t until later, when Iris had gone to her chamber to sleep, that she realized what her father had granted her. He could have picked anyone to represent their clan: her brothers, any of the warriors, anyone other than her.

Yet he had chosen his daughter, the one who should have already been wed and bedded by now. Her father shouldn’t even be recognizing Iris or her brothers, having all come from different women that wasn’t the laird’s wife. Stella Wallace had been the laird’s wife, and Iris remembered the lovely woman who had coddled her as a child. Iris’s own mother had died in childbirth and Stella had been the one to take her in, just like she had Ian and Stephan. Finally, after some years, she gave their father two lovely daughters, but after Lena’s birth, she never seemed to be the same.

Iris had tried (oh, how she had tried) to bring Stella back to her once-cheerful self, helping with her sisters and doing all she could to keep the strain from Stella’s eyes. But it hadn’t been enough.

Stella had taken her own life the summer of Iris’s eleventh year when Lena was barely a year old. Afterward, her father had fallen into a deep grief and the keep had seemed less bright. It was also the time that Iris had thrown her own grief into something more, wielding a sword for the first time and declaring that she was going to be a warrior someday.

That had been ten summers ago. Now Iris was a warrior and about to represent her clan.

Drawing in a breath, Iris pulled off her clothing and donned a warm nightgown, a luxury she didn’t have while away from the keep. While she didn’t like for her brothers to single her out as being a lass, there were a few comforts she had missed, such as her own chamber to sleep in, a bed under her body, and a soft nightgown to drape over her.

After plaiting her hair, Iris slipped under the cool sheets, pulling the furs up to her chest. She was in a happy place in her life despite what her sister thought. She was exactly where she wished to be, and her father was no longer forcing her to be anything else.

Why would she care about a husband? Or bairns? They would only be left behind when the need came up for her to ride with her brothers.

When the morning came, Iris was up at dawn, pulling her satchel to her waiting horse that had already been brought out for her.

“Och, ’tis far tae early for the likes of this,” Ian grumbled as he cinched his satchel to his own horse, his eyes red.

“Perhaps if ye had gone tae bed instead of imbibing in the whiskey, then ye wouldnae be hurting,” Iris chided, laughing when Ian winced at the rising sun. “’Tis going tae be a long ride for ye then.”

“For us both,” Stephan added as he came up to them, the same pale look about him.

Iris shook her head as she patted her horse’s neck, watching as her brothers struggled with their horses. The gathering was nearly three days’ ride from their border, which meant her brothers were going to have a very long day before them. She just hoped that whatever ale and whiskey her father was bringing along that he hid it from them.

It wasn’t long before their father joined the small caravan that would be heading south. In addition to the handful of warriors, a wagon would carry all their supplies. Their father would lead the small group at the front, and Iris would fall somewhere in the middle of the pack, well away from her brothers, until she could ensure that they weren’t going to lose their stomach contents.

“Are ye ready?” her father asked them, shaking his head when he saw the state of his sons.

“I’m ready,” Iris replied, swinging up on her horse.

Her father looked up at her; she was warmed by the smile he bestowed, as if he was proud of what she was doing.

“I can always count on ye, Iris, mah girl,” he said, patting her leg before making his way to his own horse. “Let’s ride out!”

Everyone mounted their horses, and Iris followed the lead horses out of the courtyard and through the village, where the entire clan had come out to wish them a safe journey. When she returned again, she would be the victor for their clan, and her pride would be hard to contain.

“Do they have tae yell so loud?” Ian grumbled, holding his head as they passed.

“Ye may want tae get in the wagon, Brother,” Iris laughed as she moved her horse forward.

Her brothers were going to be a delight the entire journey, she was sure of it.