Page 55 of A Promise of Love

Courage was not the act of bravery without fear, it was being confronted with the starkest, deepest terror and refusing to retreat.

Alisdair had seen many examples of courage on the battlefield - men whose fear resulted in loosened bowels and sweat drenched faces, who had taken up another bloodied sword and marched on despite their trembling panic.

Even now, as Judith waited so bravely for him to reject her, to repudiate her, he found himself wondering how much courage it had taken to live in such fear from day to day .

She bowed her head, her hands gripping each other so tightly that her knuckles shown blue white, waiting for him to speak .

He moved closer, his steps cautious as if afraid of frightening her, and in a way, he was.

He reached out one hand as if to bridge the distance between them.

She took it, and he knelt beside the bench.

He held her cold hands between both of his, as if the act of warming it would bridge the terrible chasm between them.

He bent his head until his forehead rested against her knees, stretched out both arms along the outside length of her legs from knee to thigh.

It was a curiously restrained embrace, yet intimate in its imprisonment .

She looked down at him, kneeling before her as if he were the lowliest supplicant and she the queen .

Banishment was more than a fitting atonement, an apt punishment.

To never see this man again, the only man she had ever loved, the only man who had ever loved her, surely had to be a penance equal to her great sin.

To never look upon this man, his black hair as deep and dark as a raven's wing, his long, brown arms flexed with muscle and bristling with hair, his scent as clean as the windswept moors surrounding Tynan, this would be the truest torture of them all .

God might as well cauterize her brain with a sharp heated sword, blind her to the beauty of the world, and take from her the sense of touch and smell and hearing.

And please God, take her memory, also, bleed her mind dry of any recollection of Alisdair MacLeod.

It would be the only way not to suffer so .

"Alisdair," she said, her hand reaching towards him as if listening to a will of its own. Her fingers stopped just an inch from his bowed head, just a small distance, really. She clenched her fist and withdrew her hand, the very skin of it aching to touch him .

"Alisdair," she began again, her voice filmy with tears, "I am not worthy of this." She spoke of his kneeling before her, of his kindness to her, his humor. She meant the love she'd seen in his eyes, the compassion she'd always seen on his face since the day the English came to Tynan .

“Shall I banish Meggie, then?" He raised his head, his eyes blazing gold as he demanded an answer of her .

“What?" Once again, he’d managed to confound her .

“She has been soiled, Judith, touched by men not her husband. Should she be sent away now ?”

“She was an innocent. She could not help their actions." As Judith spoke the words, she expected his response .

“So were you ."

But Meggie was so much more innocent. She had not killed .

He enfolded her hands in his own, his grip almost painful; his words, when he spoke, were harsh with impatience, perhaps fear .

He could feel her slipping away from him, could almost see it.

It was as if she were wishing these past months away, forgetting them deliberately, ignoring their import.

There were no nights entwined in each other's arms, no tender laughter, no friendly camaraderie. No teasing, no passion, no love .

“Do you want confession, Judith? Then I give it to you. Freely, willingly, totally. I’m a man who has pledged to heal, and yet I’ve killed.

I can remember the face of each man who died at my hand.

I can recall the look in each man’s eyes as I took his life, his future, his hope.

I wonder at the women I made widow, and the mothers who cry because of me, and the children left fatherless.

Each time I killed , it was the most terrible act I’ve ever committed.

Yet, I would do it again, in order to survive.

I wanted to live and I was given no other option.

Is that confession enough? " He held out his hands, palm up, studying them as if he saw them coated with blood.

“I spent so many years learning to wield these hands as tools of mercy. In five short hours, they became brutal instruments of death.” He bowed his head, studying the threadbare cloth of her skirt as if he found the words he needed there .

“As to absolution, I don’t know about such things. Or eternity or damnation. I am only a man. Leave the idea of judgment to other minds more capable of deciding these truths, or to the angels, I don’t care." When he raised his head, his eyes gleamed with their own tears .

He smoothed the hair back behind her ears, then cupped her face with his hands. He looked into her eyes so deeply she feared Alisdair could probe her soul. His voice was earnest, direct . Soft .

"We have all fought in war, Judith. There is not a man or a woman in Scotland who has not felt the bite of battle. Do you not see that you have been engaged in war, nothing less? Our weapons, our adversaries were different, but we each have struggled to survive. I told you once that I do not think the less of you because of your scars. Either on your flesh or in your soul .”

Restraint was overwhelmed by the need to have her close. He stood and pulled her into his arms, extending his arms around her, placing her cheek gently against his chest. She should always be here, right next to his heart .

“Perhaps bringing us together was a form of absolution, Judith. Two people who could not forgive themselves. Perhaps we can forgive each other. Who are we to question such things ?”

For a long moment, he didn't speak. These words must be perfect. They must convince her to throw in her future with the rag-tag bunch of MacLeods, to banish the thought of England and freedom .

"Scotland is a harsh land, Judith," he finally said, his breath warm against her ear.

"Our people have a penchant for lost causes which defies logic.

They work hard, with industry and purpose.

They have survived against odds that would break the less hardy.

Scotland requires sons and daughters who fight for life.

I think you well equipped to take on that challenge . "

Alisdair didn't know what else to say to ease her mind, wished he knew something wise and profound to say at this moment.

He wanted to show her how it could be. He wanted to bathe in the cove with her and stand on the battlements and watch the sunset.

He wanted to outlast the winter and relish the spring.

He wanted to hold her in his arms until his joints ached with age and he creaked and groaned and grumbled.

But these were all dreams unless Judith dreamed with him.

Life was more than the simple absence of pain, or of terror.

He wanted to share all its faces with her .

But, in the end, what he wanted was not as important as what she chose .

"I'll not force the pace, Judith," he said, his voice rumbling against her ear. "There is more than one way to coerce, and I'll not be guilty of it. You still must choose, I’ll not do it for you . ”

Her vision was blurred, she could not speak .

He tilted up her chin with one gentle finger so he could see the watery brightness of her beautiful blue eyes. "You decide, Judith, but make your decision on what you want for your future, not what has already happened in the past ."

She gazed at his face, seeing more than strength or kindness, seeing love in all its guises. Teasing laughter, gentleness, wine deep passion, blazing possession .

She felt the faint beat of her heart escalate until the pounding of it would surely be audible to him .But it was not, because he slipped from her with a final, soft smile, and left the Great Hall .