Page 68 of So Close To Heaven
Ivy had laughed, shifting Lily higher in her arms. “That, I totally understand,” she’d remarked. “And honestly, I don’t think Ciaran’s going to let you just walk out the door.”
Claire’s cheeks had flushed, her head ducking in sudden shyness. A moment later she’d lifted her gaze, her expression almost pleading for understanding. Something was there between them—undeniable—and Claire wanted to stay, to see what it might become.
Remembering how her own heart had clenched at the thought of being parted from Alaric, even in those early days, Ivy understood. “Claire, I completely understand. But know this—you’ll always have a place at Braalach, if ever you should need it.”
Still, the parting had been hard, and though Ivy hoped that Claire found whatever she was looking for, hoping for, with Ciaran, Ivy herself hoped that she and Claire would be reunited again.
Now, the pale sun rode low, its weak warmth doing little against the sharp bite in the air. The company pressed onward, the wagon wheels creaking steady over the rutted track. Bymidday, Alaric reined his horse close, exchanged a few low words with Ewan, and climbed up onto the wagon bench himself. He took the reins and settled in next to Ivy, guiding the team with a flick of his wrist.
Amused despite the cold, Ivy remarked, “I didn’t know lairds drove wagons.”
“I’ll do whatever’s needful,” Alaric replied.
For a time, they rode in companionable quiet. Ivy was pleased for Alaric’s presence for more than just the obvious reason. She was able to feed Lily under her cloak, nothing exposed, but it would have been so much more awkward if Ewan had been sitting beside her.
“Can I ask you something?” She asked while her daughter nursed.
His eyes stayed on the road. “Ye’ve never held back yet.”
“Well, I still think you believe me to be lying,” she said carefully. “About, well, you know what. So, I’m left to wonder and I have to ask, why do you want me with you?”
He glanced at her, briefly, then back to the road. For a long moment he said nothing. At last, his voice came low. “Because ye are mine. I’d nae have left ye behind to fend for yourself—even at Caeravorn—nae when the world is full of wolves. But aye, it’s more than duty. Something in me recoiled at the idea of letting ye go. Simply the idea of it left me...less. I dinna ken why, only that when ye’re near, the weight I carry is nae so heavy. And when ye’re far, it is twice as much. So, I want ye close.”
Warmth unfurled in her chest. In truth, her heart soared at these words. God, that was super sweet, poetic even.
“Thank you, Alaric,” she said. “That satisfies my question—and so much more.” Recalling her intention here, she continued. “All right, so let me ask you this: do you agree that anything is possible?”
He considered it only briefly. “Aye. Anything is possible. But nae everything is reasonable.”
“Oh, I wholeheartedly agree,” she said with a smile. “But unreasonable doesn’t make it untrue. Orimpossible. Right?”
Perhaps he assumed where she was going with this, and thus only grunted a response.
Ivy surprised him, she was sure, by not following through there, but by forging ahead. “I’d like to make a deal with you, Alaric.”
“Hm?”
She turned toward him more fully, emboldened. “We’re going to make a deal. I’ll tell you something you cannot possibly know, and when it happens—because it will—you have to promise to open your mind to the possibility that I am not lying about where—and when—I come from.”
He gave a skeptical grunt, his lips thinned. “And what vague thing will ye tell me?”
“Not vague,” Ivy said, smiling smugly. “I’m telling you that Robert Bruce will be crowned king of Scotland in March of next year. At Scone. March, 1306.”
Alaric snapped his head toward her, eyes narrowing. His expression was one of stunned disbelief, the same that might have been worn on a modern man’s face, just before he asked her what she was smoking.
“Crowned?” he repeated. “Bruce? ’Tis folly. He has nae army, is still shoved up Edward’s arse—he’s sworn fealty to the English king. He’d nae dare it, nae so soon.”
“If you’re so sure, then that’s an easy bet to make, right?”
He stared at her, his brow lowering, as if he suspected her of some treachery but couldn’t figure out the angle yet. Abruptly, he gave a harsh scoff. “Yer tongue weaves riddles. I’ll nae believe a word of it.”
“Fine,” Ivy said, settling Lily more firmly in her arms. “But will you make the deal with me?”
His jaw worked. He said nothing for a long time. “Aye, I take that deal.”
“Fabulous. Thank you.” She smiled with satisfaction. “Remember, in March, you have to open your mind to what I’ve been telling you.”
“Ivy, lass,” Alaric said, turning a steady stare onto her. “I ken ye, and that is enough. Ye dinna ken where I come from, havenae seen Braalach, dinna ken my kin, my history, what I’ve done. But here ye are. It’s nae different for me—it dinna matter to me from where or whom ye hail. I kenye.”
