“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.
