Hearts of Highland Fire

Chapter 8

8

“Dinnae forget yer blind side. Ye always forget yer blind side.”

Iris adjusted her sword at her back, glaring at Ian. “I dinnae have a blind side.”

He smirked, shooing her hands away as he cinched the leather strap tighter for her.

“Aye, trust me, Sister, ye do have a blind side.”

She shot him a look, a flurry of nerves running rampant inside her gut. After weeks of discussing that she was going to do this, the day and time had finally come.

Iris had never felt more ill. It wasn’t that she was concerned about not being victorious.

No, she had enough skill to handle whatever they came up with.

It was the fact that the Scot that had haunted her dreams all last night was a member of the McGregor clan.

Their enemy.

She detested the very thought. Even though his last name was different, he was going to represent the McGregor clan, and because of that, they were enemies. Iris hated to even admit that he had occupied her dreams and her thoughts since their last encounter, so much so that she had awoken in the predawn morning gasping for breath.

He had touched her in her dreams, those calloused fingers roaming over her skin and lighting a fire in her veins. She had gasped and arched into his touch, wanting more than he was giving her. When he had lowered his head, she had closed her eyes in anticipation of his kiss.

A kiss that had never come.

“Och, quit yer mothering,” Stephan replied, shoving Ian out of the way. “She’s far more capable of these games than we could ever be. Right, Iris?”

“Right,” Iris replied, shooting her brother a grateful look. “I can handle whatever they give me.”

“Of course she can,” their father announced as he joined their group, his eyes twinkling. “I’m proud of ye, lass.”

Her cheeks flushed under his abrupt praise. “I will be victorious, Da.”

“I have nary a doubt,” he said, placing his hand on her shoulder and squeezing it gently. “Go on. Do me proud, mah daughter.”

Iris gave him a nod and stepped away from her family, her throat suddenly tight. Sometimes they surprised her with their sentiments and the like.

She had just stepped back into the clearing when the laird was calling all the participants to the platform.

“’Tis time for the first challenge!” he called out. “Ready yer horses, mah fellow Scots, for we are going tae witness the age-old tradition of racing across the moors!”

There was a clamor around Iris, an excitement that could be felt through the crowd, and she let out a smile herself. She was an excellent horsewoman from her training as a warrior.

Turning away, she hurried to where her horse was located and, after checking her straps, climbed into the saddle.

“There now,” she cooed, patting its neck. “We are going tae be victorious taeday.”

There was a cheer that went up as Iris fell in line with the rest of the participants, grinding her jaw. She was a fine racer, but it looked as if they were going to ride through the moors. Riding through the moors could be dangerous for a rider in the daytime, but riding through in a deep, thick mist that they were staring at?

It was horribly dangerous.

Just her type.

“Ready riders!”

Iris’s hands started to sweat as she gripped the reins, looking at those that were around her. The key would be to get ahead of the swarm of riders so that she could sidestep the deep ruts and holes they would encounter. There she could be more cautious.

A particular rider caught her eye, and when he looked over at her, she felt the dull flush creep up her neck.

James.

He looked perfectly at ease on top of his horse, a big brown horse that was likely taller than she was. He wasn’t wearing the tartan of his clan, which she thought was interesting, and his hair was loose about his head, the wind blowing the strands into his face.

If nothing more, Iris had to best him. She had to rid herself of this obsession her mind had for him, for a man who was to be her enemy. Nothing would bode well out of any sort of further engagement in their meetings, nor would it bring anything of value to Iris personally.

She didn’t want to have any sort of attachment to anyone.

A lone horn sounded, and the group of riders took off, disappearing into the mist one by one. Iris dug her heels into the side of her horse and hung on as the horse shot forward, breaking out into a run nearly immediately. The mist swallowed them whole; Iris found it hard to see anything before her, the faint sounds of hoofbeats other than her own all around her.

For a moment her lips broke out into a smile, and she relished the feel of the wind on her face, the feel of the horse as it moved under her body. She loved to ride like this without any cause for concern or dodging enemies as she did so.

“There ye are!”

She heard his voice over the rapid beat of the hooves before he materialized out of thin air, a wide grin on his face. He was racing at the same speed that she was, his horse’s hooves pounding the ground as they crossed over it.

Iris frowned and nudged forward, but he soon followed. She attempted to steer away, only to have him follow once more.

“Wot are ye doing?” she shouted. “Get away!”

“Nay!” he shouted back. “’Tis better if we stick taegether!”

She shook her head. No, it wasn’t better at all for them to be in the same vicinity!

“Get away!” she repeated, making a shooing motion with her hand as her horse surged forward.

“I am going tae just have tae best ye then!” he called out, causing Iris to grin.

Despite all that she told herself earlier, Iris found herself turning back in her saddle and calling out, “I would like tae see ye try!”

She turned before she could see his response, and once he was no longer in her line of sight, Iris allowed herself to draw in a breath and focus on the race ahead. She didn’t know how many of the other participants she had passed or where the race would end, but she imagined it would be a circular race, where they would turn sharply and head back to the camp in short order.

She just had to continue to gain ground until then.

With a shout, she urged her horse faster until the mist started to dissipate and she could see other riders ahead of her.

Finally. Now Iris could start making some headway in this competition.

After a few miles, it was clear that her assumption about the race was right. She could see flags marking the turn in the path, where they would head back the other way toward the camp.

Dodging a slower rider ahead of her, Iris guided her horse into the sharp turn, slowing down but not enough to make it. Suddenly her horse shifted as if she was losing her footing and Iris gulped, waiting for them to tip sideways.

Only it didn’t happen. One moment she was bracing herself for impact, the next she was being crushed against a warm, solid form that smelled like clovers.

Gasping, Iris looked up to see James’s strong jawline above her, her hand clenched into his tunic.

What had happened?

He guided his horse to a slow trot as she felt the rapid beat of his heart under her hand.

“Stop!” she called out, attempting and failing to scramble away from his impossibly warm body.

James’s arm clenched her, but he did slow them to a stop.

“Wot are ye aboot, Iris?” he demanded, his angry eyes looking down at her. “Are ye trying tae throw us from mah horse?”

“Wot did ye do?” she screeched, realizing she was settled on top of his powerful thighs, his arm wrapped around her waist just under her bosom.

“I saved ye,” he ground out. “From breaking yer neck.”

Iris couldn’t believe it. He had literally taken her off her horse thereby causing her to lose the race!

“Ye bastard!” she screamed, beating at his shoulder. “Let me go!”

“Stop!” he shouted in her ear. “For Christ’s sake, woman, stop!”

Iris halted her fists, glaring at him. “Ye caused me tae lose! I would have been fine. I would have.”

She couldn’t go on, her eyes frantic as she looked for her horse. Relief filled her bones as she saw the horse nearby, waiting patiently for its rider.

“Ye would have been trampled,” he told her, his voice losing some of its anger from before. “If ye had fallen off, ye would have been trampled, Iris.”

The way he said her voice made Iris tremble for another reason. She had to get away from him. James was clouding her thoughts again, and she couldn’t… It was too difficult.

“Put me down,” she said in a harsh tone, though she didn’t bother to scream at him. “ Now. ”

His throat worked before he loosened his hold on her, letting Iris slide to the ground.

“’Tis too late tae catch up with them, Iris,” he told her as she found her bearings. “Someone is likely already crossing intae the camp as we speak.”

The very thought made her upset, but she was not one to quit, not yet.

“There will be others that did not cross the line!” she called out over her shoulder.

She had seen far too many go down as she had passed them. All Iris had to do was show up in camp and not be the last one to do so.

“Iris!”

Iris ignored James as she mounted her horse and rode off back in the direction of the camp. Inside, she was trembling with both rage and a hint of fear, realizing that he had indeed kept her from being trampled by some unsuspecting rider. He had saved her life.

She couldn’t find fault in his actions because of that, but he had in turn made her limp across the line back at camp. Her brother Ian was there in an instant, taking the reins of her horse so she could dismount.

“Wot happened?” he demanded, his face creased with worry.

Iris looked around. “Am I last?”

“Nay,” Ian replied. “About five others have not made their way back yet. Ye are still in the games, lass.”

The tension in her chest loosened. She hadn’t failed her clan just yet.

“Wot happened, Iris?”

Iris rounded on her brother, far too confused to start in on him right now.

“I stepped in a hole,” she lied, thrusting a hand through her tangled hair. “’Tis all.”

His gaze narrowed but she pushed past him, making certain that the advisor had seen her before making her way toward her tent. She wanted to be alone, away from everyone right now so she could figure out these feelings that were swirling within her.