Iris shook her head. “Nay he’s not but he willna come after ye lass. He’s made up his mind that ye have chosen yer uncle over him and he canna stand tae think that he’s lost yet another lass tae someone else.”
Ida glanced at the woman. “He told mah tis was for political means that he wished tae wed mah.”
Iris arched a brow. “Do ye really believe his words? We aren’t a family that has been touched by love often, Ida. We donna know how tae show our feelings readily.” She gave a little shrug. “Ian isna one tae know wot words tae say and whatever he told ye was because he’s frightened at his feelings for ye.” She eyed Ida. “Do ye have feelings for mah brother Ida?”
Ida swallowed, thinking of how Ian had made her feel from the first time they had met. She had felt special in his eyes. “I, I do.”
“Then please, donna throw this chance away,” Iris begged. “If ye donna care for him, then stay away from mah brother but if ye do, donna be stubborn. Wot is holding ye back will work out in the end, I promise ye.”
Could it though? Ida couldn’t be as positive as Iris was right now. She had to think about her uncle and his intense hatred for the Scot that she was falling in love with. How would she get around that part of her life?
The thought was still with her as she bid Iris farewell a few hours later and walked out of the chamber, her heart heavy. It wouldn’t be long before Ian would be leaving and when he did, Ida had to make a decision on whether or not she cared. Nay that wasn’t the concern. She did care, perhaps too much right now.
It was as if she was willing to turn her back on her family and follow him to a future that she desperately wished for.
Turning the corner, Ida ran into a hard wall that smelled of pine, hands gripping her upper arms to keep her on her feet. “Ida.”
Oh no. Ida looked up to find Ian’s piercing gaze meeting hers, the hurt lingering in their depths. “Ian.”
They stared at each other, both fighting the words that were left unsaid between them. “I apologize,” she finally forced out, stepping out of his warm grip. “I wasna paying attention.”
Ian didn’t respond, his jaw clenching and Ida almost fell against him, begging him to forgive her words from the day prior. She didn’t want to hurt him. She wanted to love him but her heart was torn at what she should do.
“Forgive mah,” he finally said, his voice flat and devoid of emotion before moving around her and walking away. Ida hung her head, tears burning in the backs of her eyes before she hurried down the stairs and out of the keep, where the cold air dried whatever tears had escaped. Seeing him, feeling him touch her so, threatened to crumble the resolve she had desperately tried to hold onto.
Was this really what her future was going to be like or was there another path that she was destined to take?
Was Ida willing to do what she wished and throw caution to the wind?
17
Ian tugged his tunic off as he approached the sparring ring, the cold air causing his skin to pucker and seek the warmth he had just had. After a restless night and no word from the laird, he was irritable, wanting a means to escape from the pent-up energy and rage that was inside him.
Since he couldn’t release it any other way, sparring was going to be the best thought for him.
Stephan and Remy stood at the wooden fence as Ian approached, his arms crossed over his chest. Inside the ring was Dalziel, who was palming his sword as he faced his opponent, a grin on his face. “He’s playing with him again,” Remy muttered, shaking his head. “I donna understand why he just doesna get on with it.”
Ian placed his hands on his hips, surveying his captain as he dodged the sword strike, laughing as he did so. “He’s far too cocky.”
“Aye,” Remy answered. “But then again, he always has been.”
Stephan pushed away from the fence. “Reminds mah of another Scot before he decided tae put down his sword.”
Ian shot his brother a look, though deep down he knew that Stephan was right. Ian had been somewhat cocky on the battlefield, wielding his sword like a battering ram. It was how they had been trained, to not allow their opponents to find their weakness and to strike first. “Better that than the one who played with his enemies.”
Stephan chuckled, arching a brow. “I donna think that mah enemy would consider it play given they had no blood left in their body once I was done.” Stephan had been a master at short knives and daggers, making precise cuts on his opponent until they would grow weak from blood loss.
“It made a bloody mess, that was wot ye did,” Remy replied with a shake of his head. “Ye should do the same tae that arse in the ring.”
Stephan laughed and Ian frowned at Remy’s suggestion, knowing that he wasn’t jesting. Dalziel had not been Ian’s choice for captain. His da had given Dalziel the position before he passed on and stuck in his grief, Ian hadn’t made any decisions regarding his own guard, content to allow Dalziel handle it all.
That was before Ian had decided to call for peace.
“How did the proposal go?” Remy asked a moment later, turning on Ian. “Did ye secure wot ye needed?”
Ian clenched his jaw, his eyes glittering. He didn’t want to tell his closest friend that he had failed yet again. Ian felt like he had failed, but given the way that Ida had looked at him the day prior, when they had run into each other in the keep, he wanted to believe that she cared for him.
Did it matter? No, not if she wasn’t willing to leave that bastard of an uncle she was saddled with. “I’m still working on it.”
