Killian just shook his head and disappeared inside, slamming the door behind him. “Come now uncle,” Ida said, grasping his arm. “Tis time for ye tae go home.”
“I donna wanna go home!” her uncle slurred, unsteady on his feet. “I was a paying customer!”
Ida doubted that. Her uncle didn’t have two coins to rub together. There was a time. Ida shook her head, forcing the thoughts of the past away. The past did her no good now nor did it bring any sort of joy to her uncle. Gripping his arm tighter, she tried to get him to move. “Tis time for supper,” she said through gritted teeth. “Come now.”
His arm rose suddenly and he pushed at her, causing Ida to stumble on the cobblestones, her arms flailing in the air for something to stop her fall. Just as she braced herself for the crack of her bottom on the stone, strong arms caught her under her armpits and hauled her upright.
Dazed, Ida turned to see Ian standing behind her, his jaw clenched and his eyes hard. “Careful, lass,” he said quietly, dropping his arms. “Ye almost broke yer skull.”
Ida opened her mouth to retort but he was already nodding to the equally handsome Scot beside him, one that she recognized from the day at the cottage. “Have care with him, Remy. He seems a bit out of sorts.”
Her uncle squinted at the approaching Scot but didn’t flinch when the taller man took him by the elbow and whispered words into his ear, causing her uncle to move away without a fight. “Wot are ye doing?” she demanded, taking a step in their direction.
Ian’s hand grasped her shoulder and Ida found herself back where she started. “Easy,” he murmured, his fingers burning her through the thin material of her dress. “Remy isna gonna hurt him, only sober him up a bit.”
She whirled on him, her eyes flashing and he took an involuntary step back. “How can I trust ye?”
His expression grew even harder. “The same could be said of ye lass.”
What? She hadn’t done anything to harm him, only tried to give him a sound word of advice. It was he that had told her all his fanciful, flowery words that had her eating out of the palm of his hand!
Ian thrust a hand through his hair, looking about. “Perhaps we should take this discussion elsewhere.”
Ida followed his gaze and realized that the crowd was still lingering, watching and listening to their every word. She didn’t want to be the center of attention. She had enough attention from the situation her uncle. “Fine,” she forced out, stomping away and not caring if he even followed. He had hurt her, more than she cared to admit. He had been the first person to show any interest in her in years and to know that it was all a farce made her sad.
And angry, very angry.
Ida didn’t bother to look over her shoulder as she made her way to the hut, only stopping when she entered the stables. There she felt safe. There she felt as if the world was set to rights and there was naught but peace in her life.
Ian’s heavy footsteps caused her to turn around, seeing that he was leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his massive chest. “Now,” he stated, his eyes flashing. “Tell mah wot ye mean when ye said ye couldna trust mah.”
She shook her head, her hair spilling out of its hasty braid she had done this morning. “Nay! I want tae know why ye feel the same way aboot mah. I havena done anything tae ye.”
He pushed away from the doorframe, dropping his arms. “Oh ye havena? Well then I must be mistaken when I heard that yer drunken fool of an uncle used tae be laird!”
The blood from Ida’s face drained as she heard his words. This was a secret she kept close to her. Most of the village didn’t even know that the great Laird Liam MacGregor was no more. They thought he had died by his own hand right after his son’sdeath, not even bothering to look closely at the unkept Scot that was right under their noses. Of course, the laird knew where his eldest brother was, keeping him close so he could keep tabs on him. Ida stayed because her uncle had no one else to turn to and without her taking care of him, she shuddered to think what would have happened. which was why Ida was allowed to stay in the hut by the stables, but still, it seemed that with the slip of his tongue, now the entire keep knew what had befallen the former laird.
“Wot?” Ian challenged. “Ye have no words for mah? I thought that we were trusting of each other Ida and yet ye dinna tell mah of yer uncle’s true identity? Yer own?”
“We aren’t trusting of each other!” she yelled back. “We donna even know each other! Why do ye think I would give ye mah family’s biggest secret Ian Wallace?” He was being daft. There might have been a connection between them but that was now severed.
Some of the fight left him. “Yer right,” he stated tightly. “We donna know each other.” Ian gave her a glance. “Are ye alright? Did he hurt ye?”
Ida tried and failed to ignore the bloom of hope in her chest at his kind words, yet another reason she felt betrayed by what she heard. Ian Wallace was portraying himself to be anything but the bloodthirsty laird that everyone whispered about. Was this for her? Did he want something from her?
Or was everyone else, including her own clan, wrong about him?
9
Ian was weary. His ride didn’t clear his head, only making it hurt even more and now he was dealing with an angered Ida that he didn’t understand. When he and Remy rode into the village and saw her arguing with her uncle in the middle of the square, his instinct was to go and help. It mattered not that her uncle had been the former laird.
Ida needed his help dealing with her uncle. He was still a rather bulky Scot and Ida was no match for him, or at least that was what Ian felt. He imagined it wasn’t the first time she had been in that situation.
When her uncle had struck out, he felt the panic rage inside him, propelling himself faster in her direction so that he could get there in time to keep her from getting hurt.
A lot of good that had done.
Now she was angered at him and he had no idea as to why.
