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Still, after witnessing the brutal and merciless death of so many thousands, he had withdrawn inside himself; his scars running too deep to heal, or so he once thought.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 odd 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.
Finally, curiosity got the better of her, and at length Joanie asked softly, “How did ye meet them?”
Helena smiled. “My son, Luke, brought them home one summer’s eve. Luke is one of the...” she paused, her eyes darting to Joanie, then she looked down at the pot. “They met at church,” she said quickly.
Joanie pressed her lips together to suppress a smile.
She knew Helena was going to say that Luke was one of Scotland’s secret rebels but had changed her mind, not knowing whether Joanie knew about the cause.
Joanie held her tongue, deciding Helena was right to be cautious.
It was better not to delve too deep into what was secret.
“Anyway,” Helena continued, “one night Luke brought them all over to meet us — all five MacVie brothers and the eldest MacVie, their sister, Rose. Good lads, every one of them and so handsome. Jack is the eldest and what a swagger he has. Were I not old enough to be his mother, I might have dreamed of filling those strong arms myself. And Quinn, with his rich voice and those black MacVie eyes, well he, too, set my heart to race. But ‘tis Rory the lassies must watch out for — eyes like the summer sky. He’s a good lad, but a rake to be sure. The one who amazed me the most was the youngest brother, Ian. What a sight he was. He stood nearly a head taller than Jack, taller even than Alec. His red hair blazed like fire, falling past his chest, too. His eyes were as blue as Rory’s, and he was such a lamb, always asking if I needed help and telling me to sit and rest while he cleared the table after dinner.
I’ve never met a sweeter lad. And I said as much to Jack, and do ye know what he told me? ”
Captivated, Joanie shook her head in response, the bannocks completely forgotten.
“He said that Ian was the kindest of the lot, but that he became a beast when provoked. ‘Tis the red hair, Jack said. To this day, I can’t imagine Ian’s countenance any other way than gentle, but I reckon given his height and the breadth of his shoulders, he would be a chilling sight if provoked.”
“I assume ye’re talking about Ian.”
Joanie whirled around and looked at Alec who she had not heard enter. “Is it true?” she asked.
“Indeed, it is,” Alec said. He came to her side and started to help her put the bannock in the basket. “But he never loses his temper for selfish reasons. ‘Tis always in defense of injustice. He is a champion to anyone he deems is in need.”
“What about your sister, Rose?” Joanie asked.
A shadow crossed Alec’s features as a sad smile curved his lips. “Rose is the real MacVie in charge. She’s strong and kind, always quick to laugh.”
“What is it?” Joanie asked, placing her hand on his arm. “There is something you’re not saying.”
“’Tis hard to speak of,” Alec said.
Helena cleared her throat, coming to stand next to them. “I’ll do it so ye don’t have to, Alec.” Then she turned her gentle eyes on Joanie. “Rose’s husband and three daughters were killed during the massacre.”
Joanie’s hand flew to her mouth.
Helena’s arm came around her shoulders. “I ken, sweetling. Graver circumstances are hard to imagine, but Rose pushes on and so shall we.” She waved her spoon at the table. “Shall we eat?”
Joanie’s stomach growled.
Alec pulled her close, then turned to Helena. “I believe ye have yer answer.”
They sat together at the table, passing food and sharing stories and concerns.
All the while, Joanie sat quietly but listened with her whole heart.
Alec asked Hamish about the farm. They spoke of the approaching springtime and preparing for the plant.
Helena regaled them with a tale of how their goats had made their way into a neighboring croft and ate half the owners’ straw mattress. ”
“I told ol’ Betty that now she didn’t have to suffer through Finnean’s cold feet in the night,” Helena said, throwing her head back with laughter.
Joanie loved every word, every burst of laughter, every warm glance. She loved the smell of hot pottage, the sweet, honeyed mead, and the coziness of the blazing hearth. With a full and grateful heart, she returned Helena’s hug and Hamish’s warm smile.
“Did ye enjoy supper?” Alec asked after their hosts had retired to their bed.
She smiled. “You know I did.”
“I ken, but I just wanted to hear of yer pleasure from yer own lips.”
Joanie cupped his cheek. “I loved it,” she said and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.
“Me as well,” he said, pulling her close. He stroked a finger down her cheek. “Although I’m lamenting our lack of privacy,” he whispered.
She swallowed the laughter that bubbled up her throat. Then together, they shooed the goats away, rolled out a pallet, and laid down. Alec held her while the rain battered the rooftop and thunder cracked. Lightning flashed through the shuttered windows.
Joanie sighed and closed her eyes, feeling perfectly content, and she thought how wonderful it was to be indoors, secure within the arms of the man she loved, on such a terrible night.
Her eyes flew open, and she realized the truth of her thoughts.
She loved Alec. She loved him with every breath in her body, with her entire being.
She could not imagine a life without him at her side.
Yes, she wholeheartedly loved Alec MacVie.
“I love ye too,” he whispered in her ear, pulling her close.
Tears filled her eyes. She turned into him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Surrounded by love and warmth, she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.