“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.
