Chapter 9
9
Ian was weary. His ride didn’t clear his head, only making it hurt even more and now he was dealing with an angered Ida that he didn’t understand. When he and Remy rode into the village and saw her arguing with her uncle in the middle of the square, his instinct was to go and help. It mattered not that her uncle had been the former laird.
Ida needed his help dealing with her uncle. He was still a rather bulky Scot and Ida was no match for him, or at least that was what Ian felt. He imagined it wasn’t the first time she had been in that situation.
When her uncle had struck out, he felt the panic rage inside him, propelling himself faster in her direction so that he could get there in time to keep her from getting hurt.
A lot of good that had done.
Now she was angered at him and he had no idea as to why.
“Nay, he didn’t hurt me,” she answered quietly, answering his question. “I’m fine.”
Relief slid through him. “Good. I was worried that I didna get there in time.”
Ida cocked her head to the side, her shoulders slumping. “Wot are ye doing here Ian?”
“Why do ye feel as if ye canna trust mah?” he asked, not wanting to lose the one person who had believed in him. A mere stranger on the opposite side of his clan had believed that he could change things.
She let out a hollow laugh that he felt in his gut. “Ye spouted yer pretty words but they were all for naught weren’t they?” her hands balled into fists at her sides, anger radiating out of her. “Ye insulted mah clan and made mah believe.”
Ian understood now. She had heard what had happened in the council room and immediately thought that he was behind it all when that couldn’t be farther from the truth.
“Ye donna want true peace,” she said softly. “Ye want tae weaken us into believing that wars can end before ye strike.”
“I donna want war!” Ian bit out, his own anger bleeding through in his words.
She jerked back as if he had touched her and Ian drew in a tortured breath. “I’m sorry,” he immediately said. “I dinna mean tae frighten ye.”
“I, I’m not frightened,” she stammered as Ian sunk down to a bale of hay, stretching his long legs before him.
Ian ran a hand over his face wearily. “I tried lass. I tried tae keep the peace. Tis was mah man who made the insult, not mah.”
He waited for a beat of a breath before Ida joined him on the opposite bale, her hands in her lap. “Tell mah wot truly happened then.”
So Ian told her everything, from how he tried to curtail the conversation to a means of peace and not the past to stopping the talks when his captain got out of hand. Throughout it all, Ida listened to him intently, not interrupting once. “I feel like I have failed,” he finally ended, bracing his hands on his legs. “There are people counting on mah tae protect them and this alliance was going tae be the means of protection. Now I have tae be worried that MacGregor will see it as a means tae attack mah clan.” He cared not if she thought him weak for caring about his people, but a laird was nothing without his clan.
“Wot do ye want tae do then?” she asked a moment later. “Wot is yer plan?”
“I want another discussion with him,” he stated. “Just mah and him.” Without all the advisors and such, he could really explain his side of things and why it was imperative that they reach an accord.
“Then do it,” Ida said, her face no longer contorted with anger. “But I do think that yer man needs tae apologize for his outburst. The laird will never trust ye if ye allow yer man tae get away with the insult.”
She was right. Ian did need to have Dalziel apologize for what he said and in his heart, he wanted to think that the captain would do it for the good of the people.
At least, that was what he hoped.
Looking at Ida, he swallowed. “So ye believe mah now?”
She drew in a breath but didn’t look away. “I want tae believe ye, Ian. I really do, but.”
“But ye canna trust a Wallace,” he finished for her, rising from the bale. The words struck him in the chest, thinking of how he was ever going to get anyone to trust their clan.
“Nay!” Ida started, rising to her feet as well. “Tis not that at all. I am not mah uncle, either of them.”
“Then mah words are the truth,” Ian said evenly, not even feeling any sort of anger toward her, but resignation. His uphill climb was growing steadier by the moment, with no end in sight.
Ida surprised him by putting her hand on his chest, forcing him to meet her eyes. It was then that he realized how small she was next to his height, his need to protect her building inside. “Yer words are wot ye make them,” she said softly, searching his gaze. “And I hope that they are true.”
Ian gathered her hand in his, squeezing it gently. “I promise ye. I willna give up on this.” He held her hand for a beat longer before releasing it, stepping back to put some space between them. “I should go find mah captain.”
She fidgeted with her sleeve, her cheeks pink. “Aye ye should.”
“Can I come back?” he asked hesitantly, hoping that she had seen that he was being truthful in what he was saying. He needed her as his ally. He needed a friend in the MacGregor clan.
“Aye, ye can Ian Wallace.”
Her words stuck with him as he walked to the sparring ring, where his men were getting in their sparring for the afternoon. Remy was there, coaching them on as well as Dalziel, who upon seeing Ian, stopped his swordplay immediately and hurried over to his laird’s side. “Mah laird.”
Ian held up his hand and the other man went silent, though his eyes hardened. “Ye will go and apologize tae Laird MacGregor,” Ian told him, his jaw clenched. “Aboot the insult.”
“Tis was no insult that wasna true,” Dalziel shot back. “Wot happened tae us being superior tae them?”
“We are trying to sign an alliance,” Ian reminded him. “We dinna come tae start a war. Do ye not realize wot danger yer words could put us in, our clan in?” He held back the part where he had sent men back to the clan, for reasons that he didn’t even understand. As his captain, Dalziel should be informed of such matters that would endanger them but Ian wasn’t sure he trusted his right hand as much as he did before they came here. “Do ye wish for peace Dalziel?”
“I wish for wotever is best for our people,” the captain said in a hard voice.
“Then this is best for our people,” Ian finished, stepping back. “As yer laird, I must know that I can trust ye tae support mah decision.” If not, Ian wasn’t sure what he would do with the captain, but if he couldn’t trust the men around him, then he was no better off than having his enemy close. “Tell mah that I can trust ye.”
“Ye can trust mah,” Dalziel finally answered, his face mottled with anger. “I’ve given ye nary a reason not tae. I have watched yer back in every battle that we have fought together, saved yer life for the sake of our clan. How can ye say that I am not looking out for the interests of the clan?”
Ian wanted to believe his words, but it was going to be his actions that would prove that he was behind his laird and his clan. “Alright,” Ian replied, giving his captain a tight smile. “I believe ye. Donna disappoint mah, Dalziel.”
The other man looked aghast that he could disappoint his laird, placing his fist over his heart in salute. “Ye can always count on mah.”
Ian dismissed him, watching as Dalziel rejoined his men in training before looking at the keep in the distance. He had to fix this. He had to find a way for them to have the real conversation that he had planned when he had made the journey here. He just hoped that Iris would be able to talk the laird into listening once more and they could have more than just a shouting match between them. This was their future as clansmen and as leaders that was on the line, not just their pride.
That evening, Ian sat next to his sister and James, dining in their chamber once more than in the great hall. Hope was nearby, occupying herself with some toys that Ian had brought with him and the bottle of wine was nearly empty on the table. “Tell mah,” James stated, leaning back in his chair. “Wot will ye do when ye go back home?”
Ian picked up his tin cup, frowning. “I’m certain that there is work tae be done.” He had left Stephan in charge in his absence, warning his brother that if something happened to him, Stephan would have to take up his place. Stephan had laughed and said that Ian was too stubborn to die but in this hostile territory, Ian wasn’t so certain that death wasn’t just around the corner. “The keep needs repairs. The fields need to be readied for the fall.” That was the short list he had. The walls were starting to crumble under the disrepair that his da had ignored and no keep was safe without a wall to guard it. That and the nearby river was starting to dry up with each season, leaving his council to find another means of water that a well could be dug from.
There was always something and in the beginning, after his da’s death, Ian had wanted to run away from it all. He knew exactly what to do when he was on the battlefield. Wielding his sword and killing the enemy didn’t take much thought.
Being a laird, however, did require a significant amount of time spent trying to keep the clan happy.
“Have ye given any thought tae a wife?” Iris asked, pouring some more wine into her cup. “Or are ye too busy?”
A wife. He needed a wife, but Ian hadn’t given it much thought at all even with Remy’s ribbing. He was expected, as laird, to give the clan an heir, but Ian didn’t just want to wed any lass. He wanted the right lass for him.
Ida’s face swarmed his thoughts and he shook his head. Nay, tis couldn’t be possible. “Nay,” he forced out. “I havena given it much thought.”
Iris snickered, her face pink from the wine she had consumed. “Perhaps we need tae find ye a game so that ye can find yer wife in the ring.”
James snorted with laughter at his wife’s jest. “I doubt that Ian will be willing tae let his future wife win though.”
Iris shot him a look and Ian smothered his own grin. “Let mah win? Ye dinna pick up yer sword!”
“Because I was trying tae prove a point,” James argued. “Tis was mah love that I was showing.”
Iris rose from her chair, slamming her cup on the table. “James Lennox ye couldna beat mah if I gave ye everything I could do in the ring.”
James slowly rose from the chair, his eyes flashing with challenge. “Och? Are ye certain wife?”
Iris looked at her brother, who was watching the exchange while trying not to laugh. “Can ye watch our wee one Ian? I am aboot tae show mah husband that he is wrong.”
Ian barely nodded before Iris was storming out, her head held high. James let out a low curse. “She’s insufferable!”
“If I can give a word of advice,” Ian stated as James gathered his sword. “I would let her win again if ye wish tae be in her bed tonight.”
James let out another curse and stormed out, Ian laughing at his back. “Well wee Hope,” he said to his niece, who was chewing on one of the rag toys happily. “Tis looks like it is just us for dinner tonight.”