Ian went for it at the same time that Ida did and their hands collided, a shooting spark igniting in her chest. She gasped at the feel of his hand on hers, finding him gazing back at her with the same sort of surprise. He swallowed hard and Ida felt a pull in her stomach unlike she had ever felt before. “Ida,” he breathed, sending a shiver down her spine. “I...”
A clamor outside the stable had them jumping apart, Ida clutching the pitchfork against her chest. Her heart was beating wildly within her chest, her hand remembering the way his calloused fingers felt and she wanted more.
Heaven help her, she wanted him to touch her again!
“I should go,” Ian said hastily, pulling his hair free so that he could rake his hand through it. “Thank ye Ida for a pleasant morn.”
“Yer welcome,” she said faintly as he brushed past her and exited the stable. Only then did she allow herself to exhale a breath, unbelieving what had just happened.
She had all but developed some sort of kinship with the visiting laird, a Scot who shouldn’t even be talking with her, much less doing her morning chores.
One of the horses snickered and Ida couldn’t help but let out a half-crazed laugh. Surely, there was some sort of reason he wanted to come this morning other than just to hear her talk! He had a passel of people in that keep that would be wanting his attention.
Shaking her head, Ida replaced the tools back in their places before picking up the feed bucket. She had to be in some sort of dream right now. It was the only explanation.
If that was the case, though, how could she still feel the warmth of his skin on her hand?
6
Ian woke with a sense of purpose the next morning, dressing with care. His sister had informed him the night before that the laird was willing to meet with him, giving him a chance to explain what he was looking for in their alliance for the future. She had cautioned him on pushing too much, but Ian had comforted her, telling her that he knew what he was doing.
If only he knew what he was doing.
Sliding his dagger in his boot, Ian strode out of the chamber, finding that the hallway as devoid of people. He wanted to talk to Iris before the meeting to find out how much information she knew about the laird so that Ian could find some sort of common ground with him. After all, they had not supped at a table together before nor had they exchanged any correspondence. They had truly been enemies up until the ceasefire.
As he entered the room where his niece was, he halted in his tracks. “Ida?”
Ida turned, giving him a small smile. “Mah laird, I mean Ian. Good morning.”
“Good morning,” he said faintly, noting she was holding Hope in her arms. “Wot are ye doing here?”
“I help out sometimes,” she stated as Hope tugged on her long braid thrown over her shoulder. “After mah chores are completed.”
Of all people to see before his big meeting, he hadn’t anticipated it would be the one that could calm him. Walking over, he touched Hope’s nose, chuckling as her chubby hands tried to grab his finger. “From horses to bairns. Ye never cease tae surprise me, Ida MacGregor.”
She smiled at him and Ian felt it settle into his bones. He had thought of her at odd times during the day before, so much so that James had to bring him back to the conversation more than once. In fact, if Ian hadn’t been nervous about the meeting with the laird this morning, he would have ventured out to the stable yet again.
“Well, horses and bairns aren’t that much different,” she was saying, bouncing Hope in her arms. “Feed them and muck out their stalls and they are happy as can be.”
Ian let out a bark of laughter. “I’ve never heard of a nappy being called a stall but tis not far off.”
She wrinkled her nose. “At least not with the smell.”
They shared a laugh and Ian felt some of his worry start to slide away. He could do this. He could have a conversation with Laird MacGregor and they could do what was right for both clans.
“Yer sister said that ye are meeting with the laird today,” Ida said after a moment.
“Aye,” he answered.
“Are ye nervous?”
“Aye,” Ian admitted, clasping his hands behind his back. “Verra much so.”
Ida’s mouth pursed. “I imagine that mah laird is nervous as well. Normally when ye are meeting, tis on a battlefield.”
“I donna want it that way any longer,” Ian said with a shake of his head. “I want peace. True peace.” Peace was going to make both clans prosper the most. Peace would allow for the clans to see that there was more than just fighting and a way to protect their future.
Ida reached out, laying a hand on his shoulder and Ian felt her touch clear through his tunic. “I believe ye, Ian. If anyone can bring aboot peace, ye can.”
