“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.”
“Sheleft,” 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 corneredIris, 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.”
