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Frangean followed Ian into the house, and Ian gave him the sword he’d taken from the English warrior.
“I’m coming with you,” Kate said from behind him.
Ian turned, and his heart leaped like it did every time he saw her. She’d braided her hair today, exposing her bonnie face and big eyes, highlighting the most kissable lips he’d ever seen.
“You’re going somewhere, right?” she said, looking at the sword.
“Aye, lass. The English raided and occupied the MacFilib farm.”
She nodded. “I know you can’t stand by and watch people lose their lives and homes. It’s not who you are.”
“I’m going to raise the fiery cross and ride to all the farms and villages and call my people for battle. We can only defeat the English if we are together.”
“I’m coming,” she repeated.
“Nae.”
“Yes. I’ll cook. I’ll clean. I’ll do stuff to help. But I can’t stay here and wait. I don’t want to be without you.”
Her words warmed his heart.
“I’m coming,” she said firmly.
Who was he to contradict her? He’d be on the road for a couple of days to reach all the farms and villages. Besides, she’d be safer with him than alone, here, without anyone to protect her.
But the main reason was, he couldn’t stand the thought of separating from her, either.
“Aye,” Ian said. “Ye're coming with me."
With the help of Frangean, Ian made the fiery cross. He took two straight sticks and bound them together, then lit them up to have them scorched and burned.
As he saw the cross burning, he remembered the last time he’d seen one. It was when his grandfather Colin was still alive and chief of the clan. They’d stood before Dunollie Castle, ready to fight for Marjorie, Ian’s cousin, who’d been kidnapped and held by Alasdair MacDougall.
The cross had brought them victory then, and they’d retrieved Marjorie, who’d been raped and beaten. The cross was the call for war, for bloodshed, the call to stand and protect their land and their families.
Seventy farmers and one warrior against a hundred trained knights and soldiers. Their odds were bad. Only if Craig with his men came would they stand a chance.
If not, Ian would have even more deaths of innocent people on his hands.
Chapter 23
Kate stirred the soup in the cauldron hanging over the campfire. The night brought a chill to her body. In the darkness, campfires around the farm were burning. The air was loud with clanging swords and men grunting and cursing as they trained at sword-fighting.
Kate glanced up to find the tallest figure of all. There he was, the man she loved, fighting like a lion, his hair gold-red in the light of so many fires. He was the dance. The dance of battle, the dance of war.
The dance of death.
The flashes of his arms, the lines and angles of his legs as he stepped, whirled, and cut with the sword were beautiful. Mesmerizing.
He was the Highlands itself. A gorgeous warrior of might and power. And heart.
Of course she’d fallen in love with him. And he believed her, for God’s sake. Who would believe the crazy story of time travel? Had they switched places, she certainly wouldn’t have.
And he was damaged, like she.
He’d never be whole, he’d told her. That’s how she felt, too.
And now the pain was even worse because Ian was doing his duty, taking care of his people. And she? She’d selfishly abandoned hers in order to stay with the man she loved in a place where she could be killed.
