He tugged her close, removing her hand from his mouth.
“’Tis alright,” he murmured. “We are hidden by the trees. He wilnae find us.”
But he could, and that was all that mattered to Iris.
“I have tae go,” she whispered, untangling her other hand from his hair and sidestepping him so that she could get out from underneath his warm, strong form.
“Iris,” he hissed, grabbing her arm as she turned to go. “Dinnae! I didnae come here tae do that.”
Hurt wound its way through her veins.
“Ye didnae mean tae kiss me?”
His eyes widened. “Nay! I mean I didnae mean tae, but I wanted tae and—bloody hell, this isnae coming out like I planned.”
A small piece of her heart softened toward James. He clearly looked confused, and it was endearing.
“Dinnae follow me,” she said softly. “Or else he will know.”
Before James could answer her, she hurried out from underneath the tree, scrubbing at her mouth to remove the taste of James’s lips from her own. She had often seen the way theother lass’s mouths looked after they had been kissed, and if her brother saw her now, he would know what she had been doing.
She heard Ian call her name again, but instead of going toward his voice, she went away from it, sticking to the coverage of the forest until she saw the tents up ahead. Once she was close enough, Iris ducked into the hoards of people around, attempting to look like she hadn’t been thoroughly kissed. That couldn’t happen again. She couldn’t be kissing James when he was her enemy.
The next morning, Iris rubbed her aching brow as she took her place before the platform. After coming back from the forest, she had imbibed in a bit of ale and whiskey to wash away the taste of James and his touch so that he wouldn’t plague her in her dreams.
It hadn’t worked. Her dreams had been filled with things that she had overheard other lasses discuss, things that James had done to her that had her gasping in her sleep.
Now all she had to show for it was an aching head and her tired form, pulling herself out of bed in time to make the next round of games.
The laird stepped up onto the platform and held up his hands, clearly excited about the morning.
“Mah fellow Scots!” he called out. “Taeday is a blessed day tae see yer handiwork on display!”
His arm swept to the left and Iris got her first glimpse of the targets in the distance.
Thank the gods it wasn’t sparring. She didn’t know if she could make it through the brutality of that so early in the morning and in her condition.
“Each participant will receive ten arrows,” he continued as a low murmur went through the gathered crowd. “Ten arrows for points. Each archer will be at distances that will garner points based on where they land on the targets. The archer with the highest number of points will be declared the winner!”
Iris grinned then. She was the best archer in her father’s warriors no matter what the distance. This competition was hers.
Her traitorous heart looked about and found James standing near the platform, his eyes on her instead of the speaking laird. Iris’s stomach did a funny flip as he gave her a slow smile and she cleared her throat, looking away before her cheeks could turn red.
No, they were likely already red. Oh, that Scot was a distraction, and it was important for her to remember such!
“Here,” Ian said at her side, thrusting her bow into her hands. “’Tis time for ye tae show them wot a Wallace is made of, Iris.”
With a single nod to her brother, Iris joined the rest of the participants as they lined up in front of the targets, her jaw set in determination. The range was close, far closer than she had expected, but she could see the flags marking the distances they would be tried on, and she couldn’t help but feel the excitement flutter in her stomach.
This wasn’t going to be an issue for her. She was going to best the entire lot.
“Ready!”
Pulling out the arrow she had been given, its tip painted the color that was tied around her waist, Iris pulled back on her bow, feeling the strain in her shoulder and forearm. A few breaths in and out like her father taught her, she calmed herself, focusing on the target ahead.
“Fire!”
Iris let the arrow fly, watching with pride as it sailed through the air and hit the target square in the middle. With a whoop, she grabbed the bag of arrows.
