Hearts of Highland Fire

Chapter 19

19

Six months later

James held the reins loosely in his hand, letting the horse pick its way through the rocky path toward the village. The air was crisp and cold, the heaviness of winter starting to settle in over the land. Soon there would be heavy drifts of snow everywhere, making the roads impassive for months.

Considering they were a few days from their clan’s borders, James could only hope that the snow would hold off.

It was oddly terrifying to be trapped in enemy lands.

“Well?” Matteau asked as he sidled his horse next to James. “Wot are ye feeling?”

James smirked. “Are ye in charge of mah feelings now, Matteau? Do ye think I’m going tae break down in tears because we are almost there?”

His friend eyed him cautiously as if that was exactly what he was thinking.

“I no longer know wot ye are thinking, James. Ye wilnae discuss it.”

“Which is where it should be,” he said, clenching his jaw. “I didnae come for her. I came for mah laird.”

Matteau snorted. “I dinnae believe ye, mah friend. Not at all.”

James kept his expression impassive, but deep down he didn’t blame him for not believing what he had just said. It wasn’t the truth at all. Well, perhaps not fully the truth. He hadn’t come for her at all. When his father had given him the option to come on the journey to Wallace land, James had debated on declining. The past six months had been difficult in more ways than one. She still haunted his dreams, and no matter how much he tried to move past the boulder in his chest, he hadn’t been successful in doing so.

Now he was closer to Iris than he had been since that fateful day, and his palms were slick with worry. What would she say once she saw him? Would she even acknowledge his presence, or was he destined to watch her yet crumble to pieces on the inside when she rejected him?

It wouldn’t be the first time.

“Believe wot ye wish,” he finally said. “But I can handle this.”

“Should be a highly entertaining bout,” Matteau muttered as he urged his horse further the closer they got to the village.

It was no surprise that a group of warriors waited for them on the fringes of the village, no weapons drawn but their expressions telling James that they didn’t like the fact that they were there. He watched as Stephan Wallace rode forward to greet Irvine with a nod. The months had not been kind to the laird’s son, and for good reason.

The great Laird Wallace was dead, having passed away in his sleep.

“Mah brother welcomes ye tae his lands,” he stated, grief bracketing his mouth. “And bids ye tae come tae the keep.”

“Aye, we will do so,” Irvine replied, giving the Scot a nod.

Stephan angled his horse toward the keep and they were forced to follow, riding through the deserted village toward the massive keep. Even the courtyard still bode the signs of a grieving clan, with no warm fires lit to welcome them.

James halted his horse behind his father’s and dismounted, allowing his eyes to finally drift to the family that awaited them on the stairs. Ian stood at the center, wearing the heavy mantle of a laird, flanked by two younger lasses that he supposed were his sisters.

She was not there.

He drew in a cold breath, straightening his shoulders. She had to have known he would come with his father, and she had chosen not to see him.

James wasn’t certain how he felt about that.

“Welcome tae Wallace Keep,” Ian said as Irvine reached the stairs.

Irvine greeted the young laird with a nod, placing his fist over his heart.

“Please accept mah deepest sympathies on the loss of yer father. He was a great laird, one that is sitting at the right hand of the gods.”

Ian inclined his head, his throat working.

“Aye, Laird McGregor, he is. I honor this truce between us in his memory.”

It was quite the surprise when his father had told him that the McGregors wished for peace and were asking them to visit their keep so they could discuss the terms. James had thought that the talks had ceased the day that they left the gathering, but a great deal had happened. He didn’t think any less of Ian or the others. He knew his own laird grew weary of the endless battles between them.

“Mah da told me once that there were enemies in disguise,” Ian continued, his voice choked with emotion. “I dinnae wish for that tae be the case between us.”

“Aye, I dinnae wish for that either,” Irvine replied.

“Then come,” he finished, motioning for them to follow him indoors. When James reached the laird, Ian gripped his shoulder, his keen eyes on him. “I didnae think ye would come here, Lennox.”

“I am part of mah laird’s emissary,” James said evenly. “Am I not welcomed in yer keep?”

“Aye, ye are,” Ian said wearily. “I told her tae be here this morn, but she, as usual, doesnae listen tae a word I say.”

James couldn’t help but grin. “Aye, she never listens tae anyone.”

Ian cleared his throat, dropping his hand from James’s arm.

“She hasnae been herself since we returned, Lennox. I believe she misses ye.”

It was James’s turn to clear his throat, old emotions threatening to bubble to the surface.

“Aye, well, I dinnae know if that’s enough.”

Ian arched a brow. “Well, then perhaps I was wrong aboot ye, Lennox. I’m giving ye a reason tae find her yet here ye are, telling me that ye wilnae go after her.”

“She left, ” James bit out, bitterness lacing his words. “She rejected me and broke mah nose. I dinnae think she has tae make it any clearer, Wallace.”

Ian stepped back, a chuckle passing through his lips.

“Then ye never did know mah sister, Lennox. Have ye ever stopped tae think aboot how frightened she would have been tae wish for something more? If ye wish tae see her, she’s at the sparring ring.”

The laird turned and walked away, leaving James standing on the stone steps. He had thought about how frightened she would have been. He had been just as frightened.

But something about Ian’s words struck a chord deep inside. He had tried to push her, tried to tell her it was going to be alright, but not once had he let her choose. He had cornered Iris, and just like anyone else would have done, they would have taken the quick path to dispel the panic.

He had made her panic, and because of it, she had rejected him.

Bloody hell, he was an idiot!

Turning on his heel, James hurried down the stairs and out of the courtyard, asking one of the guards to point him in the direction of the sparring ring.

When James arrived at the sparring ring, he paused, watching as Iris moved through the motions, fighting an invisible opponent before her. She had lost weight, he realized, and her hair had grown longer, now in a single braid down her back. She was dressed in her customary tunic and breeks, her breath freezing as she exhaled and thrust her sword forward.

Gods above, she was lovely! His memories had done nothing to seeing her with his own two eyes.

Careful not to disturb her, James approached the sparring ring silently until he had no choice but to step inside. When she turned, she nearly dropped her sword.

“James!” she gasped, her eyes wide. “Wot are ye doing here?”

“I was looking for ye,” he said. “Ye werenae there tae greet us.”

Iris blinked a few times before she sheathed her sword.

“Aye, I didnae wish tae be there.”

James took a step forward, figuring she could run her sword through him if she wished to do so.

“Why? I never thought ye tae be a coward, Iris.”

Her eyes flashed. “I’m not a coward!”

He shrugged. “It appears ye are running away from me, lass.”

His heart was pounding in his ears, and he felt slightly sick to his stomach, but if she rejected him this time, he would walk away forever. He couldn’t continue to do this, to hope.

Her hands clenched at her sides.

“Nay, I asked ye tae fight me and ye refused. That is a coward.”

“That is a man who was in love with ye!” he fought back, closing the distance between them. “Why cannae ye see that?”

Iris’s lips parted, and she struggled to find her words.

“I…”

“Ye cannae find one reason for us tae not be taegether,” James pressed on, his voice dropping a notch. “Mah laird and yer brother are in talks of a truce as we speak. Soon our clans will no longer be enemies, Iris. We wilnae be enemies.” Reaching out, he cupped her cheek, feeling her shiver under his touch. “Give me a good reason tae walk away and I will, but I would rather stay.”

Her eyes closed, and for a moment they stood there, James drinking in the sight of her. He wouldn’t force her into that panic again. He wanted her to choose, and whatever she chose he would accept no matter how much pain it caused him.

Ian was right. Iris had to be in charge, and he was more than happy for her to do so.

When she opened her eyes once more, he saw a sheen of tears there.

“I missed ye,” she said softly, covering his hand with hers. “I thought aboot ye every day.”

“Iris,” he breathed, closing the final distance between them so that he could frame her face with his hands. “I love ye. I will love ye until mah last dying breath. It matters not who ye are. I know who ye are.”

“I love ye,” Iris answered, one of the tears tracing down her cheek. “I cannae get ye out of mah blood, James…and I dinnae want tae.”

That was all the proof he needed that she was choosing him. He swooped down and captured her lips with his, kissing her like he had dreamed for six months. She made a sound and her arms wound around his neck, pulling him closer until he was holding her against his body, ravaging her lips with his. When they broke apart, he rested his forehead against hers, breathing her scent in.

“I’m vera sorry I broke yer nose,” she said after a moment, her fingers in his hair. “I told ye tae let me go.”

He chuckled. “I never should have loosened mah hold on ye that day.”

“Nay,” Iris replied. “I was confused as tae wot I wanted in mah life, but when I returned to it, I realized I was missing the vera thing that had made it special.”

James pulled back to look into her eyes, feeling his heart clench in his chest.

“I want tae marry ye, lass.”

A brilliant smile crossed her lips. “Well, I wouldnae expect anything else now, James Lennox.”

He laughed and pulled her close against him. He had missed her far more than he had thought.

“I think yer brother gave his blessing on our union by sending me out here tae ye.”

Iris disentangled herself from his arms, her eyes sparkling with happiness.

“Nay, he sent ye out here so I could have mah rematch.”

James smirked and withdrew his sword, watching as Iris did the same.

“Is that so? Ye think ye can beat me, lass?”

“I know I can beat ye, Lennox,” she challenged, beckoning him with her sword. “Though I hope this match will be less bloody than the first.”

James had to agree with that sentiment.

“Then first pin,” he said wickedly, wanting to feel her body against his again.

He would never grow tired of that.