Hearts of Highland Fire

Chapter 9

9

“Wot happened out there?”

James turned to find Matteau approaching him, a worried look on his face.

“I dinnae know why ye care. Ye won.”

His closest friend smirked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Aye, I did. I was always the better rider between the lot of us.”

James rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to grooming his horse, knowing that no one else was going to do so. Besides, the horse had performed well today and he wanted to show his gratitude.

“I ran intae a bit of trouble.”

“Trouble?” Matteau echoed. “Wot sort of trouble?”

“I got held up behind a slow rider,” James lied, dropping the brush back into the bag at his feet. “It doesnae matter. I still crossed the line before the last participant did.”

He couldn’t believe that he hadn’t been eliminated after everything that had happened, but apparently four riders had to be rescued in the moors, meaning that four riders were now no longer a threat.

He was glad to hear that Iris had made it back safely, but he hadn’t seen her since his return, knowing that at some point, they were going to have to discuss what had happened.

Perhaps without shouting at each other.

After patting his horse’s neck, he placed the grain bucket before him and turned toward Matteau, who was still looking at him with a bit of concern on his face.

“Wot?”

“Have ye talked with yer da?”

“Nay,” James replied, concern now crossing his face as well. “He doesnae wish tae talk tae me. He wants tae tell me everything I am doing wrong as his son.”

Even if he had won the race, his father wouldn’t have been there to congratulate him. James was well aware of the fact that he had caused the rift between them.

“Aye, ye’re probably right,” Matteau sighed, kicking at the dirt. “The laird gave ye his permission. Surely he can understand that.”

“He will just be upset with him as well,” James shot back, thinking of his conversation with the laird. They both were bristling at when his father would launch his attack again. “And I didnae prove mahself taeday.”

“Dinnae be so hard on yerself,” Matteau said, placing his hand on James’s shoulder. “There are many more chances coming. That is, if ye can beat me, of course.”

The two friends shared a laugh before Matteau walked off, leaving James to his thoughts. James finished with his horse and led it to the fence that had been erected for everyone to use, turning it loose to graze on the plentiful grass. While he wouldn’t ever regret what he did this morning in saving Iris, it did set him back in his quest to prove himself to his father and to his clan.

He had accomplished nothing this morning.

With a sigh, he walked away from the fence and back toward the camp. Luncheon was already underway, the air ripe with the smell of roasting meat from various pits around the camp. Though he didn’t wish to do so, James made his way to his own clan’s tents. He couldn’t hide from them, and considering they had been laughing at him for years, this was not going to be any different.

A few of the warriors were gathered around the bonfire in front of their encampment when James arrived, the fire spit full of sizzling meats ripe for the picking.

“Och there he is!” one of them called out, drawing the attention of the others that were gathered. “One of our own fair participants of the games!”

James felt the dull flush of embarrassment rise on his neck, attempting to keep his expression void of what he was really feeling.

“At least he finished!” Matteau called out, giving James a nod. “Which is more than ye sorry louts can say!”

There was laughter but James didn’t join in, detesting that his friend had thought it necessary to protect him. That wasn’t what he was supposed to be experiencing right now.

He was supposed to be the victor.

With a growl, he turned away from the fire and stalked away just as a misting rain started to fall over the camp. The weather they were experiencing matched James’s mood. Now he would have to do well on the remaining games, however many there were to prove his point.

Drawing in a breath, he spied Iris ahead of him, a mug in her hands as she too hurried away from the main campsite. For a moment he debated on whether or not to walk in the opposite direction, knowing that she wasn’t pleased with what he had done. But despite his thoughts, James continued on his way toward her. He didn’t know why he was so drawn to the lass. Knowing who she was alone should have kept him from even wanting to save her, but he had met her before he knew who she was and that was why he couldn’t stay away.

Not now.

Weaving in and out of the crowds of clan members that didn’t seek shelter from the impending rain, James found himself following Iris toward the forest and into a copse of trees that provided a bit of shelter.

He waited until she had settled at the base of one of those trees before approaching her, seeing her intake of surprise as she spied him.

“Wot are ye doing here?” she demanded as she scrambled to her feet. “Are ye following me now?”

James couldn’t deny that he had in fact followed her there, but it wasn’t for the reasons that she thought of.

“I was checking tae ensure ye had no injuries from earlier,” he stated, wincing at his own lie.

Her eyes widened before they narrowed once more. “And wot’s it tae ye? Do ye want me tae cease the games because I might be injured?”

“Wot? Nay,” he said quickly, not believing that was the conclusion she had reached by his words. “I didnae come out here for that.”

Iris arched a brow. “Wot did ye come out here for then, McGregor?”

The clan name came out in a spat of a word.

“I’m not a McGregor,” he corrected her. “Mah da, he is the laird’s advisor. Mah ma, she is the McGregor.” He didn’t understand why he felt the need to explain to her that he was not her enemy, but he did.

Her mouth opened, then shut. “Well,” she huffed, nodding toward the direction of the camp. “I’m vera fine, so ye can leave me be.”

James crossed his arms over his chest. “Why are ye competing, Iris?”

His sudden question seemed to surprise her, and for a moment, he thought she might not answer. When she looked down at her mug of ale, he felt the disconnect between them, as if her gaze was going to show him far too much.

“I am one of mah da’s warriors,” she finally said, her voice lacking the anger from before. “Why wouldnae I?”

Her answer was honest, but it gave him no insight into anything more about her. He wished to know everything about her, about this intriguing lass that had captured his attention and made him forget why he was at the gathering to begin with.

“Ye are a warrior?”

Her head snapped up, and her eyes flashed. “Wot? Do ye see something wrong with that, McGregor?”

“James,” he corrected. “And nay, I dinnae see anything wrong with that. Ye are strong enough tae be one.”

“I…” she started before swallowing hard. “I dinnae need yer approval, James.”

The way his name sounded on her lips was unlike anything he had ever heard before.

“Aye, lass, I dinnae think ye need anyone’s approval for anything.”

Iris drew to her full height, throwing the contents of her mug on the ground.

“Well, if we are done here…”

He reached out in a flash and grasped her upper arm, not wanting her to leave just yet.

“Are ye scared, lass?”

Her eyes rose to his. “Of wot?”

“Of me.”

She let out a laugh. “Nay, I’m not scared of ye, James! Perhaps I just dinnae like yer company.”

James could tell she was lying to him, which intrigued him far more than he cared to admit.

“Och, ye know how tae wound a Scot,” he said softly, tugging on her arm until there were only mere inches between them. “I’m not yer enemy, Iris.”

Iris smirked, and he found himself fascinated by the dimple that appeared on her left cheek.

“Aye, ye are, James. Ye are mah enemy because of the clan ye belong tae.”

“Can ye forget that for one moment?” he asked, reaching up to brush the hair from her cheek. She stiffened at his touch but didn’t pull away, her lips parting. “Can ye forget that we are tae be wot everyone expects us tae be for one moment?”

Understanding dawned in her eyes, and he realized that they did have something in common. They were both attempting to prove to everyone that they weren’t what was expected.

“I dinnae like ye,” she whispered. “I dinnae like ye at all, James Lennox.”

“As long as the feeling is the same,” he answered, resting his hand on her cheek to stroke her soft skin with his thumb.

She let out a little gasp, and he leaned down, his chest bursting with the need to kiss her. Now he saw her in a different light, a soul like he was, and she did more than intrigue him.

She made him wish to hang up the games and all the fighting with his father and only be here with her, under the copse of trees where no one could see them.

“W-Wot are ye d-doing?” she stammered as he kissed her cheek instead, wanting Iris to get used to him being so close to her.

“Ye owe me, lass.”

“For wot?” she fought back as his lips found her temple. “For having me lose the race?”

James chuckled against her temple, breathing in the smell of her. She smelled like jasmine and rain, the wet scent clinging to her curls and making him want to slide his hand up into her hair to feel its softness.

“I believe for me saving yer life.”

He heard her sharp intake of breath.

“Wot do ye want then? A thank ye?”

She was infuriating but also driving him to insanity in the same breath. Was she always like this? If so, then why was she not attached to another male? Did they not see what sort of unpolished gem they could have?

He did, and heaven help him, James wanted more from Iris. He wanted a great deal more.

“Nay,” James finally answered, his throat suddenly tight. “I dinnae want yer words.”

“Then wot?” she asked, her voice heavy with anticipation. “Wot do ye want, ye lout?”

James pulled back to look into her eyes, surprised to see the same intensity he found building inside of him.

“James,” he told her. “Mah name is James.”

“Och, ye are infuriating,” she muttered, her hand coming up to his chest.

He waited for her to push him away but instead, her fingers spread out on the material of his tunic, her touch branding him through the fabric. It was as if she wished to be there with him as well.

James reached up and grasped her hand in his.

“Look at me, Iris.”

Iris did as he asked, her eyes finding his once more.

“Why?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“So that ye know who is aboot tae kiss ye, lass,” he answered right before his lips came down on hers.