Hearts of Highland Fire

Chapter 17

17

She was here.

James swallowed as he looked at Iris, seeing the frustration in her eyes when he didn’t draw his own sword. Even though his future was staring him in the face, all he could think about was how lovely and fierce she looked.

“Are ye ready?” she taunted, shifting her sword from one palm to another. “Come now, Lennox. I didnae come all this way tae have ye going deaf on me.”

He had two paths he could choose from, James realized. He could choose the path of why he had come to the gathering in the first place, which was to spar with Iris and win the games so that he would be victorious for his clan.

And so that he could garner the respect he was long overdue. His father and his laird already believed in him, but that left the warriors who were watching this very match, the ones who had chosen to tease him and believe that he was not one of them.

The other path was slightly less clear to him, a path he hadn’t seen until he had laid his eyes on Iris. It was the path that made her his future, the one where he would have her see reason that they should attempt to be together, even if their clans didn’t see their reasoning.

In order for that to happen, he was going to have to do something unorthodox.

Iris’s smirk faltered the longer she watched him as if she couldn’t understand what he was doing.

James didn’t even know what he was doing, but the path he would choose would define his future.

So he chose the one he wished for more, the one that was going to make him the happiest.

“I wilnae draw mah sword.”

Iris’s eyes widened, and she nearly missed a step. “Wot?”

James stepped toward her, his arms hanging loosely at his sides.

“I wilnae draw mah sword on ye, Iris.”

He was giving up one dream for another, giving up what he thought his future was for one that he wished to have now that he had met her.

It was going to be up to Iris to decide their course next. “Ye’re daft!” she shouted, waving her sword. “Pull out yer sword, James!”

“I dinnae want this,” he told her, stopping within a sword’s length of her. “I dinnae want tae fight ye, lass.”

“Nay,” she croaked, her sword wavering. “Dinnae do this, James. Pull out yer sword and fight me like a warrior, ye bastard!”

He chuckled. A warrior. That was all he wished to be for the longest time, and now he was faced with one that he loved.

Perhaps he was meant to have her in his life as his warrior, not him actually becoming one. And while that should feel horrid, it didn’t. He would be content as long as Iris was by his side.

“Lay down yer sword,” he told her softly as the crowd jeered around them. “And we will figure this out taegether, Iris.”

He would appeal to her father if he had to, become one with her own clan if it meant that she could be his. His life—his very existence—meant nothing without her. James realized that now. He could go on and become a warrior, but his life would never be fulfilled like it had since he met Iris.

“Ye’re just scared,” she blurted out, jabbing at him. “Show me that ye are a true Scot, Lennox!”

James shook his head, keeping his hands at his sides, his eyes on her.

“Nay, lass, I’m not scared. Not any longer.”

“Wot are ye doing, Lennox?” he heard Matteau call out, his voice full of disbelief. “Pick up yer sword!”

James didn’t look his friend’s way, knowing that everyone who was watching the proceedings would likely think him daft for what he was doing. But it was the only way to get Iris to break down, to see that nothing else mattered when it came to the two of them. He wasn’t going to fight her.

Suddenly and without warning, Iris swung her sword at his head, and James was forced to duck in an effort to keep it intact.

“Pick up yer sword!” Iris yelled as James dodged another swipe of her sword at him. “I will draw yer blood, James!”

“Then ye are going tae have tae do just that!” he yelled back, his feet sliding in the dirt as he avoided her sword. She was not holding back in her thrusts, but he could see the wealth of emotion in her eyes. She was scared. She didn’t know what else to do but fight back. “I care for ye, Iris!”

Iris halted her assault, her chest heaving, and the crowd grew quiet at his words.

“Wot did ye say?”

“I care for ye,” he repeated, taking a step toward her. “And I believe ye care for me.”

Despite what he had tried to do the night before in getting her to leave with him, James believed that she still felt the same for him. After all, those sorts of feelings didn’t disappear overnight.

“Put down yer sword, and I swear tae ye on mah life, Iris, that everything is going tae be fine.”

He didn’t know what their future would hold, but he would protect her from whatever it may be.

Iris’s jaw tightened, and she raised her sword once more.

“I didnae come all this way tae lose tae ye, James!” she shouted. “Either ye will pull yer sword, or I will make ye wish ye had!”

“Stop!” he shouted back, holding up his hands in front of his body to show her he was of no threat to her. “I’m not going tae fight ye, lass!”

Something akin to pain flashed in her eyes before Iris charged. Instead of dodging her, James lashed out and grabbed ahold of her arm, spinning her around until her back was pressed against his body, the sword locked tight at her side.

“Let me go!” she yelled, struggling against the grip he had on her.

“Nay,” he breathed into her ear, his own chest heaving. “Not until ye drop the sword, Iris.”

He could easily let her cut him and it would be over with, but James knew if he didn’t give her a fight at least, she wouldn’t allow herself to feel.

And he would never see her again, not until they faced each other in battle one day, and that he could not do.

“James,” she said raggedly. “Dinnae make me do this.”

“Do wot?” he challenged, knowing he had her tight. “Allow yerself tae feel wot ye will be missing if ye walk away from me? Ye said ye want tae fight. Well, I want ye tae fight for us, lass.”

He felt her tremble in his arms as the crowd booed them, the shouts urging them on to fight each other growing louder by the moment.

“Nay,” she murmured. “I was talking aboot this.”

In an instant, her head reared back and collided with his nose, the crunch of bone causing James to weaken his hold as pain shot up into his head. Iris took the advantage and broke through his grasp, spinning around. His vision was narrowed as his eyes welled with tears and his hand came back with blood, but his broken nose wasn’t the immediate concern for James.

It was the fact that he had a sting on his arm, and when he looked down, he saw a clear thin line from her sword.

She had drawn blood. Iris had won.

The crowd erupted, but James didn’t peel his gaze from hers, seeing how her eyes suddenly widened as she took him in.

“Ye did it,” he said, his voice sounding nothing like his own. “Ye won, Iris. How does it feel?”

She flinched at his harsh words and turned her heel, hurrying out of the ring a moment later. James watched her retreating back and felt every hope he had built up inside him wither and die.

It was over in more ways than one.

“Bloody hell, man,” Matteau’s voice came out of the fog before a piece of cloth was shoved against James’s nose to staunch the blood. “’Tis not yer finest moment, mah friend.”

“She did it,” James said, unable to believe it. He thought he could reach her somehow.

“Of course she bloody did,” Matteau said harshly, though his voice held a hint of concern for his friend. “And look at ye now. Ye should have picked up yer sword.”

James shook his hand, groaning as the pain grew.

“Nay. She needed tae see I wasnae giving up.”

“A lot of good that did ye,” Matteau muttered as he steered James out of the ring and toward the tents. “I have tae admit… That was likely the only time I’ve ever seen something like that.”

James didn’t respond, tears leaking out of his eyes from the pain in his nose. Matteau was right. A lot of good he had done by confronting Iris like that, and now he was helpless to know what was going to happen next. Now that the games were complete, they would depart for home, and the ties between the two clans were still fragile at best.

Nothing had worked out in his favor. Nothing at all.