Chapter Thirty Two
Joanie sat at a crowded trestle table with Matthew at her side within the great room of Dunnoch’s keep.
Highland women, children, and older men filled the tables and the room nigh to bursting, all waiting to send their men off to battle.
Joanie had felt her life threatened often enough to understand the tension building in the room, but she knew nothing of warfare.
Still, she forced her nerves to quiet. She did not wish to make Matthew anxious, although as she looked into his uncanny eyes, she knew that like Alec, he probably already felt what she tried to conceal.
The door to the great hall opened, drawing her gaze to where one of the warriors stood and called everyone to the bailey.
Joanie held tightly to Matthew’s hand as they joined the others filing into the yard.
The late afternoon sun cast cool shadows across the faces of the warriors, who stood in rows in front of Laird Campbell.
Like Bryden and the other Highland warriors, Dunnoch was impressive to behold with his thick, corded muscles and long, tangled brown hair.
She scanned the men, looking for Alec but did not see him at first. Then her breath caught.
Alec came forward and took his place next to Bryden.
He was dressed like the other Highland warriors in a plaid with naught else but leather boots.
In one hand, he gripped a targ and as usual, his sword was strapped to his back.
He looked tall and lean next to the Campbell warriors, none of whom reached Alec in height.
His black eyes gleamed, harder and more intense than ever.
He motioned for her to come to him. Leading Matthew behind her, she did as he bade.
His black eyes bore into her soul. Handing his targ to Matthew to hold, he cupped her cheeks and kissed her, slowly, a lingering kiss that filled her core with honeyed warmth and stirred a longing within her that grew and grew.
She clung to him, returning his kiss with all her love, all her passion.
When he drew away, he did not speak. The pulse of his body flowed through her, conveying his every intent and thought. I love you, body and soul.
A rush of tears flooded her eyes. “I love you too,” she whispered, reaching her arms high. Knowing what she wanted, he lifted her feet off the ground, pulling her close, and she buried her face in his neck, inhaling his masculine scent.
Feeling her fear for his safety, he spoke softly to her.
“The men around me are not afraid. Ye ken I would feel it if they were. Forty cavalry on an open battlefield would mean risk, but still I do not doubt the Campbell warriors would come out the winners. But here, on their mountain — this isn’t battle.
‘Tis target practice.” Fear continued to grip her heart.
He set her on her feet, and once more he cupped her cheeks.
“Do ye think I would have led English soldiers here if I thought I would be placing these good men in danger? Look around ye, Joanie,” he said, dropping his hands to his sides. “Go ahead,” he urged her. “Look.”
She took a deep breath and slowly considered the warriors who smiled down at their women or kissed them lovingly. Others held their own sweet children in their arms.
“You know how this all ends, then?”
“I feel in my heart that something wondrous is about to happen, but I do not ken what. What I do know, as plain and true as my love for ye, is that every man ye see here will return this day to their families.”
“Including you,” she whispered. It felt as if a boulder crushed her chest, forcing her to draw shallow breaths.
“Including me,” he said, pulling her against him. “Just keep breathing. I will return.” His lips claimed hers. This time his kiss was hungry, demanding. It dissolved the weight on her chest, opening her heart to his promise of victory.
“I love ye, Joanie,” he said. Her knees grew weak at the sight of his smile.
Then he crouched low, and she watched as he looked at Matthew.
They were a sight to see with Alec’s intense black gaze and Matthew’s uncanny mix-matched eyes.
They needed no words to convey what was in their hearts and minds.
Her heart flooded with warmth when Matthew wrapped his arms around Alec’s neck.
A smile full of life’s wonder teased Alec’s lips as he returned the child’s hug.
Then he stood and stepped back in line with the other men the instant before Dunnoch raised his sword in the air and shouted, “Cruachan.”
“Breathe,” he said again, his fiery eyes locked with hers. Then his face settled into cold, hard lines as the battle cry tore from his lips. Turning away from her, he joined the other warriors as they stormed through the gate, their strides long and powerful.
She wrapped her arms around herself, feeling the absence of Alec’s touch and stared after him, her eyes lingering on his sleek form long after it had disappeared.
Remembering his last word to her, she drew a deep breath and turned to take Matthew’s hand to lead him back into the keep, but he was gone.
She scanned the courtyard for him. “Matthew,” she called.
Spying the stables, she dashed across the courtyard, thinking he might have wanted to see the horses. She peered into every stall before she rushed back outside.
Panic building in her heart, she grabbed a woman who was passing by. “Have you seen the small boy who arrived with me today. His name is Matthew.”
“The one with the strange eyes?” she asked.
“Yes,” Joanie exclaimed, daring to hope.
But the women shook her head.
Another woman nearby called out to her. “I saw him run off with the other lads. They’ve gone to watch the battle from the cliffs.”
Joanie’s eyes widened with alarm. Then she turned and started to race toward the gate.
“Wait,” the woman cried. “Ye can’t go out there like that.” She swept the plaid from her shoulders and wrapped it around Joanie’s. “Ye don’t need to do this. The lads will be all right.”
“I cannot let anything happen to him. He’s my family. He’s...” Her words trailed off, blocked by the knot lodged in her throat.
“There, there, pet. I can see ye’re not to be swayed,” she said. Then she untied a sheathed dirk from her waist and tied it to Joanie’s. “Don’t get too close to the battle and mind the cliffs. ‘Tis still icy on the rocks.”