The Crusader's Heart

by Kate Forrest

  “Nearly there,” Alex said, as they carried the boat beyond the stables, where they could access the sea.

  A band of red granite snaked out into the water like a crescent moon, providing a natural barrier from the rough waters that storms created. The clan used the shallow inlet there as a natural harbor. Alex recalled the days when the harbor was brimming with activity of fishermen departing and returning. Now, only one boat was being prepared to go fishing in the sea.

  As they neared the water, ships appeared on the horizon.

  “Who do ye think it is?” Fergus asked, coming to stand beside him. “We’ve nae seen a fleet that size in these parts since the Viking raids.”

  “With any luck, it is my uncle,” Alex said. “Let us get the boat in the water.”

  Alex and the men lowered the boat into the harbor. To his relief, it stayed afloat.

  Fergus slapped him on the back. “Look at that! She floats!”

  “She’s a fine craft,” said Neil, the man that had challenged him yesterday.

  “We’ll fish on her together,” Alex said, grasping the man’s shoulder.

  “I’ll be happy to join ye, Chief,” Neil said, returning the gesture.

  It had only taken one day and a new fishing boat to win the respect of some of his men. Only a few hundred men remained under his charge, but they were all loyal MacKinnons. They would fight to protect the clan. He was confident of that now.

  Fergus explained how many of the men lost faith when Alex’s father took ill. Circumstances were already dire, and they feared there was no end in sight. Alex could understand it, but he would never abandon his people—no matter how impossible the situation seemed. He would prove that to the men, but it would take time. He’d gained a lot of ground with the men today; it was enough for now.

  Alex joined everyone by the water and studied the mass of ships sailing toward them. Should I alert the soldiers? When he saw the MacKinnon banner flying on the leading ship, the birlinn he’d dispatched the day of his return, he knew the force was friendly. Alex let out a triumphant whistle.

  “Men, let’s give these Irish a warm welcome!” he shouted. “My uncle brings skilled warriors to help us fight!”

  The men cheered and clapped.

  Alex took in the sight of warriors approaching on the birlinns. There were at least twelve vessels. Alex guessed there to be over a hundred men.

  “Is this all of them?” one of the MacKinnon men asked.

  “I believe so,” Alex said.

  “But there is only a hundred or so men on these boats,” the man said.

  “A hundred skilled warriors are worth a great deal,” Alex said.

  “He’s right,” Neil agreed. “Just look at them.”

  There were few greater sights to behold. Alex hadn’t seen anything comparable since he’d left on Crusade. Though the contingent was much smaller than the one he had sailed with to Lisbon, it was no less impressive to him now. As the boats drew near, he could discern more details of the group. Alex spotted his uncle; he led the convoy in the MacKinnon birlinn with twelve other men. Most were over six feet tall, muscular, and well-equipped with weaponry and armor. There was no mistaking them for anything other than warriors.

  Alex and a few men gathered the ropes that his uncle and the Irish tossed over to them. They pulled the boat in, allowing the men to come ashore. His uncle was the first off the birlinn.

  “Uncle William,” Alex said, clasping hands with his father’s younger brother.

  “Alexander,” he said, as they embraced.

  “I thank you for coming with haste.” Alex looked around as the warriors unloaded the boats. The men looked battle ready, and Alex could not have been more grateful. We can fight now. If we must go to battle, we stand a chance.

  “Aye, nephew. I brought ye as many men as I could gather. They’d be keen for some food and drink, though we brought our own rations. I didnae ken how dire circumstances were.”

  “Things are nae good, Uncle.”

  “I should’ve checked in on my brother more often,” Uncle William said. “We’ve been distant for many years, but ’twas nae an excuse for staying away from ye and my nieces.”

  “That is the past. You were not responsible for Father’s choices.” As far back as Alex’s memory could take him, there was always conflict between his father and uncle, though Alex never knew the cause of it. When Alex went to foster on Skye, his uncle left for Ireland to make a life for himself. Since he’d become a gallowglass warrior, Alex’s uncle made few visits home. Alex could not fault him for it; his uncle needed to live his own life. “I am grateful for you coming now. The Macleans are a strong force, and the MacKinnons that remain are ill prepared to meet them.”

  “How much time do we have?”

  “A fortnight,” Alex said. “Assuming he attacks when I decline his offer to submit.”

  “I’ve trained warriors in less time,” Uncle William said.

  “What about croft farmers and fishermen?” Alex asked.

  Uncle William frowned but said, “When it comes to protecting the clan, everyone is a warrior.”

  Alex nodded. “Come. We shall speak inside while you and your men enjoy refreshments.”

  ****

  A few days later, Isobel’s trunks arrived and with them enough food, wine, and ale for a grand feast. The food and drink were taken to the kitchens, and Isobel’s trunks were taken to Alex’s chamber. Isobel could not contain her excitement at the reunion with some of her treasured possessions, things she thought would be lost to her forever if she took her vows to the church. Her fine gowns and shoes were not what elicited her joy—it was her collection of books. Isobel knelt beside the trunk and carefully removed each volume, laying them out on the floor before her.

  A knock sounded at the door.

  “Isobel, are you in there?” It was Alex.

  “Yes,” she called. “ ’Tis unlocked.”

  Alex came in and knelt on the floor in front of her.

  “Are they not magnificent?” She carefully lined the books up in front of Alex. “They cover history, art, medicine, and literature.”

  Alex picked up one of the volumes between two fingers. The weight of the tome caused his fingers to turn red with the pressure he exerted to keep hold of it.

  What on earth? Isobel’s brows furrowed at the peculiar way he held the book. Then she realized, He’s never held a book.

  “Gently,” she said, cupping her hands under his, showing him the way to hold it. “Use both hands.” Alex did as she said, cradling the tome in his palms. Isobel opened to the first hand-written page to show him.

  “This is Beowulf,” Isobel said. “Have you heard of the epic poem?”

  “Nae,” Alex said.

  “It’s wonderful!” Isobel exclaimed. “We can read it together sometime. If you like.”

  “I would enjoy that,” Alex said, gently handing the book to her. “These are more books than I have ever seen. My sisters will be overjoyed when you teach them to read.”

  “And I am overjoyed to be able to share my gifts with them,” Isobel said, carefully placing Beowulf back on the floor with the other books. “Did you see the feast David’s man sent?”

  “Aye,” Alex said. “I’ve just come from the kitchens. The cook was in tears.” He moved so he could lean against the wall at Isobel’s side.

  “With the coin I have, the food stores will always be full. So long as we manage the funds well.”

  “I agree,” Alex said. “I never want my people—our people—to suffer again.”

  Isobel felt her heart flutter when he said “our people.” Soon she would be one of them. She understood his concern; the clan’s impoverished state was evident everywhere she looked. Alex’s sisters’ gowns were worn nearly as thin as parchment. She’d also seen many men, women, and children who were underweight. Isobel knew hunger. No matter how much time passed, the memory of her childhood pain never faded. Her heart ached for anyone who had ever gone hungry
.

  “Why is it like this, Alex? What happened?”

  “I dinnae know the whole of it,” Alex began. “I know Father mismanaged my mother’s fortune. Things were difficult when I left, but I did not imagine they would grow worse in my absence. Naive thinking, aye?”

  “Did your father write to the king when things turned dire?”

  “Nae,” Alex said. “Not so far as I know.”

  “David would have helped. I am sure of it.”

  “That may be true, but it does nae matter now,” Alex said. He slid away from the wall to sit cross-legged by Isobel. “I would love to stay, but I best get back to the solar.”

  “What are you working on?”

  “The records.” He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, leaving his locks disheveled. The sight of him looking unkempt made Isobel’s pulse quicken.

  “I’m having a hell of a time making sense of everything,” Alex said. “Joan tried her best, but with her limited ability to read and write and do figures, much has been confused.”

  Isobel nodded, trying to focus on his worries and not his lips. It’s shameful to be thinking of him kissing me when he’s clearly concerned about the records. Then it occurred to her. “I could help,” Isobel offered. “If you will permit me.” She had not considered what role Alex would expect of her. Most women were not involved in the record keeping, but she was the practical choice.

  “Would you want to?” Alex seemed intrigued by her suggestion.

  “Yes, I would,” Isobel said. “I can read and write in Scots Gaelic, though I will admit I am not familiar with all the words yet. And I can do my figures. I had a mathematics tutor in Edinburgh.”

  “I welcome your many talents, Isobel,” Alex said. “We can work on it together.”

  “I’ll come to your solar after the midday meal.”

  Alex agreed.

  Already, Isobel felt purposeful, and it made her happier than she ever imagined. She’d had no firm purpose in her father’s court, and she’d never established a kinship with his children. They were not mean to her, of course. They were just indifferent to her. She loved David and Mattie, but she felt if they had tried to create a connection between her and their children, things could have been different. Perhaps she would have felt like she belonged.

  Now, as Alex’s soon-to-be wife, she would be more than just the chatelaine of the keep. She would help manage the bookkeeping and tutor his sisters. She could belong here, though she needed to take care as she assumed Joan’s role. Isobel could only imagine how she would feel if all her duties were taken away and given to someone else.

  “We should talk about the wedding,” Alex said.

  They did need to think on the wedding, though Isobel was hesitant to move forward.

  “Perhaps we should wait until the Maclean threat is dealt with,” she said.

  “There is still time before he expects my answer,” Alex said. “Besides, a celebration would be good for the clan. They’ve had little cause to celebrate over the years.”

  “It would lift everyone’s spirits,” Isobel agreed.

  “Besides, I am eager to have you here with me.” Alex leaned forward, placing his hands on the floor beside him, and kissed Isobel on the lips. He pulled back and whispered, “I want to be able to do that any time of the day.”

  “You have no patience, Crusader,” Isobel said, climbing onto his lap. She adjusted her skirts so she could wrap her legs around his waist.

  “Nae, I do not,” he said, kissing his way down her neck.

  The playfulness of the moment quickly dissolved, and Isobel grabbed his shoulders, digging her nails into his tunic as he licked across the exposed skin above her bodice. After a few moments of tortured bliss, she bent her head in search of his lips. When her mouth made contact with his, she melted against him. His lips were warm and sure as they pressed against hers.

  Alex wrapped one arm around her; Isobel savored the feel of being close to him.

  “Hold on to me,” he whispered, after breaking the kiss.

  Isobel was already holding on but crossed her ankles at his back and tightened her hold on his shoulders. He lowered her carefully to the floor. They just fit in between her trunk and collection of books.

  Isobel sighed in pleasure when he moved his hardness against her core. She reached down between them, trying to untie his trews. Alex lifted off her, giving her the access she needed. When her hand came in contact with his shaft, he moaned. He felt hot, and Isobel was cool from lying on the floor. The contrast gave her chills.

  “I want you so much,” Alex murmured.

  “And I you,” Isobel whispered against his ear as he kissed her shoulder. Isobel sought his lips again, and he captured her mouth in an open kiss, flicking his tongue against hers. This feels so good. She never wanted it to end.

  But the desires of two lovers did not outweigh the pressing needs of the clan, and a knock on the door reminded Isobel of that.

  “Chief?” a man called. “Are you in there?”

  Alex groaned as he detached himself from Isobel’s lips and called, “Aye.”

  “Yer uncle and the men are waiting fer ye,” the man called through the door.

  “I’ll be down,” Alex called back but made no move to get up.

  Isobel caressed his upper arms, squeezing his muscles and delighting as he flexed them under her hands. Her mind drifted back to their very first night together, at Fort Doune, when she’d seen him half naked. The memory of his chest and stomach, banded with muscle, made her ache for him even more.

  Then she heard the grunts of men engaged in swordsmanship outside, and the lust cleared from her mind.

  “You should go, shouldn’t you?” she asked, relishing the warmth and feel of him for as long as possible.

  “Aye,” he said. “But I will see you later.”

  He planted one more kiss on her neck and jumped up. The passionate man was replaced with a serious warrior. After helping Isobel to her feet, he left.

  When Alex closed the door, Isobel resumed sorting her belongings. She was so happy, and yet, she knew she needed to be wary. The sound of ringing metal brought her to the room’s window, which overlooked the bailey. Her betrothed clashed swords with his uncle, showing his men the techniques of battle.

  The scene below reminded of her of the morning Alex and Robbie had killed her kidnappers. Gruesome images flashed through her mind, and she had to look away. Please let there be a peaceful end to this conflict, she prayed.

  ****

  After their demonstration, Alex and his uncle supervised the men’s practice in the bailey.

  “I see ye still use my gallowglass blade,” his uncle said. “Did it serve ye well on Crusade?”

  “Aye,” Alex said, holding the sword outstretched in his hand. “God willing, it will serve me for many years to come.”

  “Yer clansmen have spirit, Alex. They will give everything they have to protect their home.”

  “I know it,” Alex said, sheathing his sword across his back. “But will it be enough?”

  “Doubt before battle is a dangerous foe,” Uncle William warned.

  “It’s a new feeling,” Alex admitted.

  “I was the same when I was betrothed.”

  “You were married?” Alex asked in surprise. He studied his uncle, who had seen less than forty-five years on this earth. His hair was black and streaked with gray. His sun-tanned face showed some wrinkles around his green eyes, but his smile was still youthful. With his way of life, Alex always assumed he had never taken a wife.

  “Nae.” Uncle William shook his head. “I came close to marrying a lass once, but it wasn’t to be. Though I loved her enough to worry about what would happen if I ever lost in battle.”

  “How did you overcome it?”

  “Never did,” he said. “I just learned to live with the worry.”

  “I need to learn to do the same,” Alex said. She’s been a distraction to me before, Alex thought, recalling the nig
ht he was bested by Robbie. Yet he’d done what was necessary the morning he and Robbie cut down Isobel’s kidnappers, so he’d proven he could fight without losing focus in her presence. And I probably gave her nightmares for life. Alex still cursed himself for not being able to hide her from the savagery of his blade.

  “Even when we are apart, I’ll worry for her still.”

  “That’s part of being in love,” Uncle William said.

  Love? He looked at his uncle. “I don’t—” But he couldn’t say it. He couldn’t deny it.

  Uncle William slapped him on the back. “Sorry to be the one to break to ye, Alex, but that is exactly what ye are—a man in love.” Uncle William chuckled and walked off toward the practicing men.

  Love? Is that what this is?

  “Let’s work on yer form, lad,” his uncle said to Ian, Old John’s son. The man, nearly Alex’s age of six and twenty, was too old to be called a lad, but if he took offense, he did not show it.

  Alex continued surveying his soldiers. Uncle William’s men were well trained, and their skill was well beyond the MacKinnons. Even with the might of the Irish mercenaries, it could not compensate for how unprepared his men were. If it came to hand-to-hand combat, he feared how well his own men would fare. But there was hope.

  Alex and his uncle had devised ways to make the MacKinnon force appear mightier to their opponents. They only needed to guard the front entrance to the keep. Being situated on a small peninsula, the sides and back of their fortifications bordered the sea and jagged granite cliffs. They had enough archers to stand atop the keep’s walls and to be the first line of men in the formation they would dispatch onto the hillside adjacent to the keep. If they arranged the men just so, the Macleans would see an illusion of more men. The geography made it possible to imply a greater force than was truly there.

  It will have to be enough. If the Macleans agree to the terms, then no blood need be shed by either side. And my clan, family, and Isobel will be safe. His mind couldn’t seem to stray far from her. Perhaps Uncle William is right. Perhaps I do—