Chapter Twenty One #2
He pressed his hand to his chest, feeling the secret shard.
The abbot had said that the fate of Scotland resided in the mystery of the stone — but how could Joanie be tied to Scotland’s fate?
He worried for her, wanting to protect her from ever knowing harm again.
A sudden flurry of emotions blasted his heart, turning his thoughts from Joanie.
He closed his eyes, absorbing the faint but unmistakable nearness of other souls.
Men approached, their minds disciplined and purposeful.
He pulled on Rosie’s reigns. “Come to me,” he said to Joanie. He took the costrel from her hand and shoved it in one of the bags. Then he clasped her waist and lifted her onto Rosie’s back. Swinging up behind her, he drove his heels into the horse’s flanks and galloped off toward the woods.
A jolt of fear shot through Joanie. Alec had turned to steel before her eyes. “What happened?” she gasped once they were beneath the sparse canopy provided by the bare trees.
“A large band of warriors, English soldiers most likely, was moving quickly toward us on the road.”
“How did you...?” Her question trailed off unfinished from her lips. She already knew the answer. He had felt them coming.
“We’ll stay off the roads from here on out. It will take us longer to reach the border, but it will be safer.”
“I rather prefer it in here than on the open road,” she said, nestling deeper into his arms. She felt enclosed, protected from every direction.
His strong arms encircled her, and the trees surrounded them both.
Overhead, the branches wove an intricate canopy, delicate but strong, like fine lace on a burlap backing.
The weave permitted streaks of light to pass inside and touch her cheeks but guarded against all other intruders — or so she allowed herself to believe.
She loved everything about that moment — the strength of Alec’s long and leanly muscled torso against her back, the breath of the forest slowly warming as Spring began to awaken and stretch, still hidden but only just beneath the surface.
His arms tightened around her, and she sighed, savoring the warmth of his body.
IT WASN’T UNTIL THE last golden light vanished into shadow that Alec eased Rosie to a halt and swung down to the hard earth.
“We will rest here for the night.” He laid his cloak on the forest ground, and produced two apples, dried cuts of meat, and two pigeon pies from one of the saddlebags.
Then he reached for her, his hands surrounding her small waist, and once more his heart broke at the ubiquity of her suffering.
“I intend to fatten ye up, so eat yer fill.” He smiled softly.
“Just as soon as I drink mine.” He kissed her, slowly, gently, like one might sip the very nectar of life itself — something to be savored and cherished.
He pulled away, his harsh breaths contrasting with the gentleness of his touch. “Eat, so I can hold ye without worrying I might break ye.”
Joanie’s stomach growled as she knelt on his cloak and reached for a pigeon pie. Flakes of buttery crust crumbled on her tunic as she ate. When she was finished, she pinched the crumbs, not letting a speck of the delicious pie go to waste.
“The other one is also for ye,” Alec said.
She looked at him, sitting just across from her. He held an apple, which he absently tossed from one hand to another. “You must have more than just an apple,” she said.
His smile reached his eyes, which shone at her like black suns, bright and hot. He shrugged. “I will have some meat and bannock as well. Anyway, I am particularly fond of apples. My wee sister, Rosalyn, and my mother used to sell them on market days.”
“You still grieve for them,” Joanie said, knowingly.
“I always will. Once grief enters someone’s soul it is there forever.
It has a different feeling than sadness or fear, although both are present in grief.
When it is fresh, it screams. It’s raw and impossible to contain.
But after a while, it disappears from the surface, sinking deep like a river that runs through ye.
It becomes part of ye, always present but quiet, like the low notes in a song.
” He reached for her hand. “Ye seem warm enough,” he said before crunching into his apple. “I dare not risk lighting a fire.”
She smiled, folding her cloak tighter around herself.
“I’ve never felt so warm.” And that was true.
Never had she owned such a fine cloak, but more than that, Alec always gave off a wave of heat that kept her warm to her core.
He was her own living, breathing flame. She took a bite of her second pie and took in the sight of him.
Her eyes traveled down the white skin of his neck to the V of his tunic where she glimpsed sleek muscles.
She wondered what his skin would feel like to touch.
Then she noticed the thick twine around his neck.
“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.”