by Lily Baldwin
“Do you wear something around your neck?”
He lowered his eyes as the warmth in his face fled. He didn’t turn hard or cold, just emotionless.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to pry.”
“Nay, it is not that. ’Tis just that, I’m not quite certain what it is myself.” She watched as he reached into his shirt and took out the shard of stone.
“Oh,” she said. “So that is the hardness I have felt.”
He held the stone up to his black eyes. “Have ye also felt its warmth?”
She smiled. “You always feel warm to me.”
He continued to study the stone. “Abbot Matthew gave it to me. It is a mystery to him as well. Although he knows more than he was willing to share, he did say it was important to our cause. His hope is that I will see whatever secrets the stone keeps. But so far, I have not been able to see anything. Well … that is until ye came along.”
“Me? Whatever do you mean?”
He took the stone from his neck and held it out to her. “Feel,” he said.
She touched her fingers to the stone, then pulled quickly away. “It is warm,” she said, surprised, having expected it to be cold like any normal stone would be.
“It wasn’t always like this,” he said. “It only grows warm when ye are near me or in my thoughts. Ye heat the stone.”
Her eyes grew wide. “How could I make that happen?”
Alec smiled at her. “Should it be so hard to believe that ye’re special, Joanie? Ye have infinite strength inside of ye. ’Tis how ye survived this long. Ye have the healing touch. I felt how ye soothed Alma.” He cupped her cheek. “And somehow, ye quiet the thunder of voices within me.”
“I do?” She wasn’t exactly sure what he meant, but, after all he had done to help her, the idea that she somehow made his life better filled her with the greatest joy she had ever known.
“Ye do. And every day I notice it more. Yer presence does not silence the voices, nor does it block the emotions from entering my mind and heart, but ye soften the blow, taking away some of the sting. Ye have yer own gift, which I believe ye inherited from yer grandmother.”
Joanie considered this. “My grandmother was special. She was a great healer and taught me everything she could. She would wake me up after my father had fallen into a drunken sleep, and together we would grind herbs and mix remedies.” Joanie missed her so much.
“When did she die?” he asked softly.
She looked beyond where he sat to the sky, silvery and purple in the twilight. “She died when I was very young.”
“She was Scottish, wasn’t she?”
She cocked a brow at him. “How could you feel that she was Scottish?”
He laughed, and the sound struck her heart, bringing a smile to her own lips.
“I guessed that time. I remembered the songs ye sang at the palace, songs about the old ways. Ye had to learn them from someone. How old were ye when she died?”
Her smile vanished and a knot formed in her throat. “I was eight years old. I didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye to her.”
“What happened?”
“She had been ill for several days. I tried to stay by her side, to treat her and soothe her, but my father refused me. I had to go to the tavern where I worked washing the floors every morning. But the tavern keeper kept me there until late in the night, cleaning tankards. When I returned home, she had died.” She swallowed hard. “He had already buried her there, in unhallowed ground, without ceremony or even a marker. I fashioned a cross myself that night. But he dug it up and used it to light the morning fire. He sold me one week later.”
Alec reached for her and pulled her into his arms. “If I could take it all away, I would,” he said.
“I don’t need the old to go away. I just need the new to be better,” she said softly.
“Is this better?” He cupped her face and kissed her with soft insistence.
“So much better,” she murmured, wrapping her arms around his neck.
Alec laid down and wrapped his body around her from behind, spooning her. He breathed the scent of her and noticed how her shoulders still hugged her ears. He slid his hand onto the top of her shoulder and pushed down. When he moved his hand away, it popped back up. Again, he pressed down on her shoulder. “Relax,” he crooned in her ear. “Ye’re fine. Ye’re safe and warm. I will never let anyone hurt ye again. Ever.” Once more it popped back up when he removed his hand. He smiled when he heard her chuckle.
“Are ye doing that on purpose?”
“I swear I’m not.” She twisted her neck to look back at him. “I know I seem tense, but I’m truly not. I’ve never felt so at ease.” Then she snuggled into his body, her shoulders hugging her ears. “This feels good to me.”
He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tightly against him. “Nothing has ever felt so good.”
Chapter Twenty Two
Alec and Joanie struck camp early every morning and rode until the last light faded. With a canopy of stars and bare interwoven branches overhead, they would fall asleep in each other’s arms, their souls clutching the promise glimpsed in the other’s eyes.
On the seventh morning, Joanie sat near the fire while Alec readied their horse. A fae wind cut through the wood, stirring the faded, shriveled leaves at her feet. They twisted around her before the wind carried them off through the woods. The frosty breeze had left her heart cold. Her eyes darted around her, her chest suddenly feeling tight. Sinking beneath a wave of apprehension, she buried her head within the protective strength of her shoulders. Shallow breaths filtered in and out of her mouth, barely feeding her lungs — and then she paused.
The wind had died down. Soft morning light slanted through the tall trees. She gazed up at the clear blue sky. The rich cerulean hue carried the promise of Spring. Forcing herself to take a slow, deep breath, she eased her shoulders back in place. Still, she had to work to let her guard down.
She closed her eyes and breathed even deeper, life giving breaths. Stretching her neck to the left, then the right, she allowed her legs to uncurl from her chest and spread out in front of her. Then she leaned back on her hands and lifted her face to the sky. After several minutes, Alec appeared in her line of vision. He looked down at her with warmth in his deep-set eyes, a gentle smile curving his lips.
“Ye’re humming,” he said.
Her eyes widened for a moment, and then she smiled. “I was, wasn’t I?”
He squatted down next to her and pressed his hand to her heart. She closed her eyes and savored his heat and the surge of wellbeing that coursed through her.
“In time, yer body will know this is as it should be.”
His words made her heart swell. “Promise?” she whispered, lost in the affection she found in his gaze.
When he smiled, it changed his whole face. His eyes shone. It was as if everything that she felt when she touched him — the rhythmic pulse of power deep within him — had suddenly broken free, and it made him shine. And for a moment, he was light. A shining light setting her dark world aflame.
He held out his hand. “I’ve good tidings.”
She allowed him to pull her to her feet.
“We will be in Scotland before the sun sets.”
In another time, with someone different at her side, she might have been terrified by the prospect of heading farther north into wild, unfamiliar lands. But not now. Not with Alec. Hope surged through her. Her beloved grandmother had hailed from Scotland. The music that had kept her soul strong first traveled from the lips of those who had made their homes among the heather, the melodies reaching her ears on the currents of Highland winds. She had always dreamed of seeing those rugged, distant mountains and rolling moors with her own eyes, and now, on this very day she would be in Scotland.
“Come,” she said, grabbing Alec’s hand and pulling him toward Rosie.
His deep, quiet laughter followed her. “To think only days ago, I had to convince ye to gi
ve Rosie a chance.”
She stopped and turned to face him. “Who would have believed that one life could be so altered in such a short time?”
He gently pulled her against him and cupped her cheeks. “Two lives,” he said, softly correcting her. Then he bent his head low and brushed his lips against hers, a whispered caress that made her ache for more. Then he deepened his kiss, his full lips claiming hers. She threw her arms around his neck and returned his kiss with all her passion, all her strength.
Still not breaking their connection, he scooped her into his arms, cradling her as he crossed to the mare. Only when he lifted her onto Rosie’s back did their lips part. She knew the heat she saw in his gaze, mirrored her own desire. He slid into the saddle behind her.
“Mayhap we stay here one more day,” she breathed, her hand stroking his strong thigh. His arms came around her, and he kissed her again with feverish passion. Her heart pounded. A sweet ache ignited like wildfire deep within her. She never knew that some pain could feel so good.
Alec tore his lips from hers. “I want nothing more than to lay ye down within that alcove of birch trees and love every inch of ye, body and soul.” But then the familiar darkness deepened the color of his eyes, and the beautiful lines of his face hardened. “But not here. Not on this land. We ride for Scotland.”
Several hours later, just as the sun dipped below the horizon and the world was painted a vibrant pink, their mount cleared the edge of a thick wood. Before her, rolling moors stretched out like a faded, frosty sea.
“Alba gu bràth,” he whispered in her ear. “Scotland forever.”
“Scotland forever,” she repeated, tears filling her eyes when she realized she had truly made it. For so long, her heart had traveled north to this place to escape the pain of the moment, and she had dreamed that one day, she could leave it all behind. At long last, the nightmare had ended, and her dreams were finally coming true.
Chapter Twenty Three
They rode on for another hour through a patch of dense woods. Then once more, Rosie nosed through two Scot pines and stepped onto a field. Stubby remains of oat stalks from the last harvest dotted the large swath of land, and on the opposite side, Joanie spied a long thatch and clay hut. Smoke coiled out from the rooftop toward the darkening sky. Straightaway, a wave of apprehension shot through her.
Alec wrapped his arm tighter around her. “Ye’ve not to fear. This is the home of Hamish and Helena Dunaid. They are allies to the cause, and friends to the MacVie family.”
Joanie closed her eyes, willing away her fear. “Why are we here?”
“We are going to call on them for a visit.”
Alec had never made a social call in his life. In fact, if any of his brothers knew he was going to visit the Dunaid croft, they’d likely draw a sword on him and demand to know who he was and what he had done with their brother. He glanced up at the sky. Writhing clouds, dark and sinister, gathered overhead, quickly consuming the few stars shining in the twilight sky. A storm was building, and he did not want Joanie to suffer through a sleepless night of pelting rain and booming thunder.
More than that, there was another reason that compelled him toward the Dunaid croft. Joanie had awakened something within him he had long since thought dead. The Berwick massacre had left him with only a trace of soul. Certainly, he had always been reserved, choosing to remain on the periphery, but his love for his friends and family had mattered to him. Still, after witnessing the brutal and merciless death of so many thousands, he had withdrawn inside himself; his scars running too deep to heal, or so he once thought. Watching Joanie emerge from the shadows of her past had reminded him of how blessed he truly was. He had been born into a loving family; whereas, Joanie had been delivered into the grip of one monster after another. But tonight, for the first time, she would have a taste of what a real home felt like.
As they rode up to the cottage, Alec spied Hamish rounding up a few chickens. He stopped and waved when he saw their approach.
“Alec MacVie, is that really ye?” he asked, his kind eyes wide with surprise. A gust of wind lifted Hamish’s hair and caused Joanie to curl her back into Alec. He swept his cloak in front of her to shield her face from the wind. When he pulled Rosie alongside Hamish, he dismounted and reached for Joanie, setting her feet gently on the ground. He smiled at her encouragingly before he wrapped his arm around her waist and turned to Hamish, who extended his hand to Alec. Alec faltered. He looked at Hamish’s hand but did not take it.
Hamish shifted his feet and rubbed the back of his neck instead. “Och, sorry, Alec, I forgot yer queer ways.”
Gripping Joanie’s waist tighter, Alec took a steadying breath and extended his hand. A slow smile spread across Hamish’s face the instant before he clasped Alec’s hand. Flashes of Hamish’s life came to the fore of Alec’s mind—Helena standing in front of him in a crown of wildflowers as they spoke their vows, the birth of their first son, the death of their second—but the images, sounds, and feelings were stifled and hazy, like a dream. He pulled his amazing, healing Joanie even closer and said, “Hamish, I would like ye to meet Joanie Picard. We’re heading north to Haddington Abbey and could use a dry spot to rest for the night.”
Hamish dipped his head to Joanie, then patted Alec on the back. “Won’t Helena be surprised to see ye.” Then he winked at Joanie. “And I dare say she’ll be undone to have the company of a young lass like yerself.”
Hamish opened the door to the cottage, releasing the scent of warm bannock and herbs, and ushered them and the chickens inside. Alec smiled a little when Helena looked up and froze with a large wooden spoon close to her lips. He dipped his head in greeting.
Helena’s plump, rosy face blanched. “Sweet Mary and all the Saints,” she burst out. “Alec MacVie, is that really ye standing there, smiling at me, or are ye some kind of specter come to haunt my home?”
Alec’s slight smile widened and Helena stumbled back a little, making the sign of the cross. “Hamish!”
Hamish crossed the room and wrapped his arm around her. “Calm yerself. ‘Tis only Alec. He’s asked to wait out the rain here with us.”
Alec stepped forward. “If it’s not too much trouble.”
A slow smile spread across Helena’s face. “Aye … I mean nay … I mean ’tis no trouble, none at all. I’m delighted ye’re here. Shocked, I don’t mind telling ye, but delighted.” Then her gaze shifted from Alec to Joanie.
Helena walked right over and took her hand. “And who might ye be, lass?” she asked, sweeping Joanie toward the center of the room to the table. Alec pressed his lips together to keep from smiling at the sight of Joanie, small and thin with her shoulders up around her ears and her arms pinned to her sides beneath Helena’s broad arm.
“Joanie,” she said quietly, her eyes wide.
“Well, ye just sit right down here, Joanie, and I’ll pour ye a cup of hot mead. Ye must be chilled to the bone.”
“Alec,” Hamish said, drawing his gaze away from Joanie sitting stiffly in the chair, uttering one word responses to Helena who peppered her with questions.
“There’s still two goats out on the other side of the field. Will ye give me a hand getting them inside?”
Alec nodded. Then he turned to Joanie. He could feel the rapid pace of her heart. He walked to her side and bent to press a kiss to her cheek. “Ye’re safe here,” he breathed. Then he straightened. “I’ll be right back. I’m just going to give Hamish a hand outside.”
Joanie watched Alec follow Hamish out the door. Then she turned back to Helena whose face looked like it could crack she was smiling so hard.
“So that explains it,” Helena said, raising her brows.
Joanie shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “What has been explained?”
Helena chortled, giving Joanie a knowing look. Blushing, Joanie grasped her mug with both hands and took a sip, but left the mug near her face as her own shield to Helena’s probing eyes.
“Alec MacVie has visited my home of
his own accord with the closest thing to a smile I have ever seen on his face. And now, I know who put it there,” she said, winking at Joanie.
Her cheeks warmed again. She lifted the mug a little higher to hide her rosy hue.
“Don’t fash yerself, lass. I can see I’m making ye nervous. Now, why don’t ye give me a hand with the soup?”
Relieved to have something to occupy her hands, Joanie hopped to her feet, kept her head downcast and started chopping carrots. Meanwhile, Helena hummed a quiet song. Joanie looked sidelong at the kind woman. She knew Helena was giving her a little space to find her ease. And after several question-free minutes passed, Joanie found herself beginning to relax.
“Be a dear and grab that basket,” Helena said, waving her spoon at the wall. “’Tis for the bannock.”
Joanie darted across the room and seized the basket.
“Now, if ye don’t mind, ye can just pile them in and set it on the table.”
Joanie nodded and hastily started to fill the basket, but then Helena touched her hand. Joanie looked up and met her kind eyes. “Hush yer soul, lass. Ye’re as tense as the air outside. Ye’re safe here with me.”
Joanie stopped and lowered her eyes, expelling a slow breath. Then she looked up at Helena. “Thank you,” she whispered and began to stack the oatcakes at an easy pace.
After several moments passed, Helena said in a breezy voice, “’Tis nearly seven years now that I’ve known the MacVie brothers.”
Joanie glanced up from the table. She chewed her lip, waiting for Helena to say more. But Helena had renewed her humming while she gave her attention to the pottage she stirred.
