Chapter Twenty One
Joanie slowly stretched, savoring the warmth and restfulness that filled her limbs.
She had never slept better. It had been a night without fear that someone might come through the door with fist raised or tongue ready to sting.
She opened her eyes and saw Alec sitting in front of the open window, his feet crossed and resting on the ledge while he crunched down on an apple.
“Good morrow,” he said without looking at her. She realized as she swung her legs over the edge of the bed that he saw her even though his eyes gazed out beyond the ledge. He knew she had risen because he would have felt her awaken. He saw in ways others could not.
“Good morrow,” she answered, reaching her arms heavenward.
He turned then and met her gaze. Somehow, he looked different, warmer, like a patch of earth that had thawed in the sunshine.
She realized he was younger than she had thought.
He could not have been older than five and twenty.
He held his body with such ease that she could not help but smile.
And then something happened that made her gasp, her heart nigh full to bursting.
The corners of his lips rose like the sun, and a smile spread across his face, making her knees weak. She did not trust herself to stand.
“Come,” he said, still smiling. “Break your fast, for we’ve much to accomplish before we set out. I wish to be on the road before noon.”
Blushing, she glanced down at her lap while she waited for her heart to stop racing. After a few moments, she dared to look up. Smiling, too, she accepted his hand and sat next to him by the window.
“Where did this come from?” she said, accepting the rosy apple he offered.
“Last night, Betty left a tray outside our door,” he said, pointing to the table.
She glimpsed rolls and cheese. Her stomach growled at the sight.
Bringing the apple to her lips, she took a big bite.
While she chewed, she peered out the window at the street below and breathed in the crisp morning air.
From above, she enjoyed the sight of children playing and people milling with purposeful strides over the frost-covered road.
Feeling a slight pressure on her shoulder, she looked up at Alec who now stood behind her, gently pushing her shoulders away from her ears.
“Yer body needs to learn to not always be guarding itself.” With his hands on her shoulders, she felt tall. She straightened her spine and grew longer, but when he removed his hands, her shoulders instinctively shot up around her ears.
“We’ll work on that,” he said, his lips upturned.
She looked up at him, mesmerized by the warmth in his eyes.
Slowly, he lowered his head, bringing his lips a breath away from hers.
Her stomach fluttered. Her heart pounded.
And then he closed his eyes and kissed her.
She trembled beneath his gentle touch. The apple rolled from her hand forgotten to the floor as she closed her eyes and felt the heat of his touch pulse through her.
Then she stood and wrapped her arms around his neck.
He deepened their kiss, and she pressed into him.
All his fire whirled around her like a blazing windstorm making her heart race faster.
He filled her empty soul with longing and an ache so sweet it curled her toes and made her knees weak.
When he slowly pulled away, she felt somehow like they were still connected, still touching. She’d been branded by his kiss, forever changed by her first taste of passion.
His eyes bore into hers with an intensity like never before, but his words were gentle, setting her racing heart as ease. “After tasting yer lips, I cannot imagine being sated by mere bread and cheese, but we should probably finish our meal.”
She nodded incapable of containing her smile.
After they finished eating, she put on her cloak.
“Are ye ready?” he asked gently.
She took a deep breath, wishing they could remain in that room for the rest of the day, the rest of their lives.
He grabbed the latch on the door and held it open for her.
After closing the door behind him, he clasped her hand and stepped slightly in front of her, keeping her just behind him.
She watched the warmth flee his face, replaced once more by his stony mask.
Behind his impenetrable wall of cold indifference, she happily hid from the world as they made their way from the inn.
Marketers had set up on the village green.
Moving from stall to stall, he bought her new leather slippers and a cloak of thick worsted wool.
He also bought a new cloak for himself to replace the one he had given Alma.
For their journey, he filled a satchel with dried meat and several fresh bannock, and lastly, they stopped at the stables where he paid forty crowns for a chestnut-colored horse.
As planned, they left the village just as the sun rose above their heads.
On the outskirts of town, he brought the horse around and began arranging their supplies in saddlebags.
She eyed the large beast nervously. She had never sat a horse before.
Chewing her lip, she readied her courage to mount.
But Alec looked at her with his seeing eyes and offered her his hand.
Pulling the horse behind him, they set out on foot while sunlight glistened on the frost still clinging to the bracken.
Her breath hung in front of her, but she did not feel cold walking beside Alec.
With his hand clasped tightly in her own, he warmed her from the inside out, and about her shoulders hung the most wondrous cloak.
“You are even more beautiful when you smile,” he said softly, looking down at her from his great height.
She blushed, her hands rushing to her cheek. “I didn’t realize I was smiling.”
“Don’t stop,” he said, cupping her cheek.
He slowly lowered his lips to hers, and she softened in his arms. His full lips molded to hers, filling her with warmth.
His touch was gentle and yet so deeply felt.
When he pulled away, she gripped his tunic to keep from falling, her knees trembling from his touch.
“I can’t believe ye’re real,” he said. And the truth of his words shone in his eyes. “Come,” he said. “There is someone I want ye to meet.”
Drawing her shoulders around her ears, her eyes darted around them, afraid of who might suddenly appear from behind the trees or rise up from the thicket.
“This is Rosie,” he said, bringing the horse closer to her.
Realizing there wasn’t a stranger hiding nearby, her shoulders eased down a little. “It’s a girl?” she asked, looking at the large animal with wide eyes.
“Aye, lass, and named Rosie by the stable master’s daughter, like my sister, Rose, which I judged as a good omen.
She has a sweet temperament, a strong back, and her hooves are better at negotiating the rocky highlands than yer small feet, even with new slippers.
And ... well ... to be honest, Joanie, ’tis in our best interest to reach the border as quickly as we can. ”
Joanie eyed the mare’s great height and muscular body. She did appreciate a good omen.
“I won’t let anything happen to ye,” Alec promised. “Trust me.”
She swallowed and met his gaze. “I trust you,” she breathed. Stepping closer to the horse, she straightened her spine and spread her feet apart. “What do I do?” she asked, her voice strong.
Before she could draw her next breath, she was soaring through the air and set astride Rosie’s back. In a flash, Alec settled in behind her, pulling her close.
She laughed. “Well, that was simple enough.” Then she nuzzled against him, enjoying the feel of his body surrounding hers.
After riding for several hours, he stopped where the road intercepted a river and climbed down before he reached for Joanie. She slid into his arms. “Ye might find yer legs feel a bit weak.”
She blushed. “My backside is sore. That much I know already.”
“See if ye can stand?”
He placed her on her feet and slowly let go of his hold. Her legs felt like they didn’t belong to her, and it pained her when she walked. But the pain was not so great that she couldn’t deal with it. Pain was something she had learned to tolerate.
Lifting her chin, she said, “I’m fine.”
Alec considered her for a moment, admiring her strength. Then he handed her a costrel. “Have some ale and a bannock. I’m going to take Rosie down to the river.”
Rushing currents wound among large rocks that jutted from beneath the restless surface of the river, ever changing, ever moving.
The river’s song rose out from the earth, expanding the reach of the river to the air, the very clouds.
It surrounded him, penetrating his heart and mind, a welcome change from the harsh, abrasive sounds of the city.
While Rosie dropped her muzzle to the undulating currents, he stared back at Joanie.
She nibbled on a piece of bannock while she stood, her back long and straight, gazing up at the myriad branches set against the cool sky.
They fanned out in wild disarray, bare and starved for warmth.
She was like those branches. The harshness of life had stripped her down to a shell, exposed, unadorned, but just beneath the surface teemed ferocious vitality.
How he admired her strength. He knew the ride must have left her aching, and yet she made no complaint.
She pushed on. She would survive. That is what she’d spent a lifetime doing, surviving one unthinkable horror after another.
He fought the rush of fury that blazed within him when he thought of the scars that crisscrossed her bare limbs.
But in time, if she came to know the security of roots planted firmly in the warm earth, then she too could grow and stretch, and become the woman so many had tried to cut down.