Hearts of Highland Fire

Chapter 7

7

The next morning, James stood with the rest of his clan in the mist-covered pasture. There were a lot of bleary eyes that he had encountered, but no one was going to miss the opening of the games. No clan was going to allow the other to think they were weak because they couldn’t handle their ale.

James looked up at the flag that was flapping in the cool morning breeze and felt a sense of pride for what he was about to do. Regardless of what his father thought, he could defend his clan as well, and this was going to be the beginning of that defense.

Next to him, his father stood, his hands clasped behind his back. James had often thought that his father should have been a warrior himself. He knew that though he was an advisor to the laird, the elder didn’t shirk on keeping his form in top shape. His father had told him once that he would take a sword for the laird, but it didn’t mean he didn’t know how to fight back.

James believed it. His father took his position seriously, and if giving up his life for his laird was what he had to do, then he would do it.

The laird was standing on the other side of James’s father, dressed in the ceremonial tartan that showed his position, his face expressionless as he stared down the other lairds present. While the games were meant to be a show of strength, James knew that each clan was taking them very seriously. Each loss would be perceived as a weakness, and once the gathering was complete, James imagined that the clans who had thought they were a weakness would be ramping up their warriors for an attack, even if one never came.

It was the way of their people to always be the ones that were far superior to the rest.

There was a low murmur in the crowd gathered as their host laird finally took his place on the platform, holding up his hands for silence.

“Welcome!” he called out, a smile on his face. “And welcome tae the first challenge of the gathering games! The ledger is complete, and the participants have been decided! Mah advisor will call out the names now.”

James watched as the man from the previous day stepped forward, clearing his throat.

“Once yer name is called, ye will step forward and agree tae represent yer clan.”

It was time. James cleared his throat as the advisor started with the first clan, watching as the participants stepped forward, cheered on by their clan behind them. He already knew he wouldn’t receive the same welcome, but it didn’t matter.

He wasn’t going to back down. They would have to eliminate him first.

“The Wallace clan!”

James felt the entire clan around him straighten in attention, knowing that their enemy was only a few feet away. Yet they couldn’t engage in any sort of fighting lest they be banished from the gathering. He looked over to see Irvine’s jaw clench, his eyes on the laird who was laughing with his own men. James didn’t understand why Irvine saw the need to negotiate with such a fool bastard as Wallace.

“Iris Wallace!”

There was a rumble of voices at the name, James swallowing hard as he watched the lass from last night step forward, her head held high.

Iris. She didn’t look like the flower at all. His heart picked up in his chest as he saw the way she ignored the jeers and laughter around her, her jaw clenched as if she could fight them all.

And win.

His coin would be on her if last night was any indication of what she could do.

No other person was announced from the Wallace clan, and the advisor moved on, surprising James. She was going to take on the gathering games alone, without any sort of aligned help?

What sort of bastard was Wallace to begin with?

James’s hands clenched into fists as he watched the laird eye his participant with a grin on his face. Was he putting her up for slaughter or was he truly that confident that she could be victorious?

Whatever his reasoning, James still had to contend with the fact that the lass who had caught his eye—and was quite possibly the most intriguing thing he had encountered in his lifetime—was a Wallace.

His enemy, his clan’s enemy.

The irony was not lost on him, and he wanted to laugh aloud. Of course she would be his enemy.

The advisor moved on and more participants stepped forward to represent their clans, but James paid them little heed, his eyes on Iris.

He was forced to turn his attention away from her when his clan was announced, clearing his throat as he waited for his name to be called.

It was the moment of truth.

“James Lennox!”

James heard the start of surprise roll through the clan as he stepped forward, refusing to meet his father’s eyes. He didn’t want to see the disappointment in them, even if the games were what he wanted to participate in.

“Matteau McGregor!”

His oldest friend also stepped forward.

“Well,” James chuckled, “I didnae think ye were interested in participating.”

“Someone has tae watch yer back,” Matteau teased. “That is if yer da doesnae murder ye first.”

James didn’t respond, but he didn’t have to. He knew very well that his father was going to attempt to dissuade him from participating in the games, even if he had to appeal to his laird, which was probably what he was doing right now behind James’s back.

Well, he wasn’t going to allow it to happen. Either he would participate, or he would leave. It was as simple as that.

The rest of the clans’ participants were revealed before the laird took his place on the platform once more.

“Each laird will have a few moments with their participants before the first challenge is announced.”

James drew in a breath before he turned, finding his father glaring at him and the rest of the clan watching him warily.

“James,” he said, his voice tight with anger. “A word.”

James refused to back down, lifting his chin. “Aye, a word.”

The clan members parted as his father stalked back until they were out of sight from the other clans before he rounded on James.

“Wot are ye thinking?” he exploded. “Ye are not participating in these games!”

“Aye, I am,” James replied, crossing his arms over his chest. “I have been training, Da. I can do this.”

“Nay ye cannae!” his father interrupted. “Ye came here for negotiations, James, not tae make an arse out of yerself and get yerself killed! Yer ma?—”

“Ye both have been protecting me all mah life,” James blurted out, allowing some of the anger come through with his words. “For wot? For me tae be the laughingstock of our clan? I dinnae wish tae be ye, Da!”

His father reared back as if James had hit him. James regretted his rash words.

“Ye arenae a laughingstock,” he said after a moment. “Ye are mah son, and mah son is tae be the advisor tae the laird one day, tae take on the tradition of wot I have built for this family.”

James swallowed some of his anger. “I dinnae wish tae be an advisor. I have told ye before.” He had said dozens of times what he wanted in his life. His father had just chosen not to listen to him each and every time, thinking he knew what was best for James.

It was James’s life, not anyone else’s.

His father stalked closer, his eyes flashing anger and a bit of hurt.

“Wot do ye think ye are going tae achieve by this?” he asked, his words soft. “Do ye think that just because ye win these games that ye will gain the respect ye crave? That ye are going tae just be able tae become a warrior?”

That was exactly what James was thinking.

“’Tis a start,” he finally said. “Tae wot I want.”

“Let him participate.”

Both men turned to find Irvine standing a few feet away, his hands clasped behind him.

“M-Mah laird,” James’s father sputtered as he laid his eyes on his oldest friend. “I cannae let him do this.”

Irvine’s gaze was focused on James.

“Is this wot ye want, James?” he asked, arching a brow. “Because if it is, then I will expect ye tae represent this clan tae the fullest. Do ye understand that?”

James bowed his head respectively, his heart hammering in his chest.

“Aye, mah laird. I understand.”

Irvine cleared his throat. “Then he shall be one of mah participants.”

“Mah lair—” his father started, but Irvine held up his hand, silencing him.

“’Tis mah word, Malcolm. Trust me.”

His father clenched his jaw tightly but in the end, inclined his head. He wasn’t going to go against his own laird, not even for the safety of his son.

“Then ye best see it through, Son,” he finally said before walking off.

James watched him go, the tension growing between his shoulder blades. He knew that his father would be upset, but had he just broken their relationship beyond repair?

“Dinnae worry, James,” Irvine said as he came to stand beside him. “Malcolm has a hard head, but he will come around in time.” He clasped a hand on James’s shoulder. “I, for one, am glad that ye have done this, James. Show them wot ye can do, wot ye have trained for.”

Surprised, James looked at his laird, who gave him a wink.

“Aye, I’ve seen yer training with Matteau. Ye think that I wouldnae know wot was going on in mah own clan?”

James’s cheeks reddened. “I was—I mean… I dinnae?—”

He laughed, moving away. “Good luck, James. Come back uninjured or yer da will flay me alive for this.”

James smirked as the laird strode away, his mind already thinking about the task at hand. He had done it. He had successfully gotten the go-ahead from his laird to do this, but the larger issue loomed ahead of him. He would have to win now so that his efforts and the rift between his father weren’t in vain.