Page 43 of So Close To Heaven (Far From Home #11)

While the idea thrilled her—he’d said we —Ivy’s gaze dropped to Lily, tiny mouth parted in sleep, and her heart squeezed.

Images crowded in: the endless days in the saddle, the bone-deep fatigue of their marches, the cold and rain seeping through every seam.

She could still feel the ache in her body from that journey, and she had only carried herself.

What would it be like with a baby in her arms?

And then came the darker memories—the clash of steel, the cries of dying men, the battles she and they had stumbled into. She shivered. She wasn’t afraid for herself, not truly, but for Lily. A babe so small had no defense in such a world.

She looked up at him, torn between the thrill of going where he went and the fear of what the road might hold. “But Alaric, she’s so little still. Couldn’t we wait until she’s a few months older, a little stronger for the journey?”

Alaric shook his head. “Nae. We must ride before the snows. Once the passes close, we’ll nae be able to get through. I’ll nae have us trapped, either here or in the open.”

Her stomach turned. She had seen enough of his determination to know he would not be swayed—but still she tried. The words tasted bitter even as she spoke them. “Then...perhaps Lily and I should remain. At Caeravorn. Until after the winter—just until Lily’s older, stronger.”

His scowl was sharp, his voice harsher than she’d expected. “Remain? While I—” He broke off, heat flashing in his eyes. “I’m nae going to leave my wife and daughter behind while I move on.”

Ivy’s heart lurched. “Your...wife?” she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper.

He paused, staring at her, his expression unfathomable. His words, however, were not. “Aye. Ye are. And it’ll be made official once we reach Braalach.”

At some point—possibly only recently—she’d told herself it was enough that he protected her, that he accepted Lily without question, and that he stood between he and a world she barely understood. But now...now he had named her something else, something she had never dared let herself imagine.

They hadn’t spoken of love, or anything even close to it.

Yet she knew, with a certainty that made her chest ache, that what she felt for him ran deep.

It was in the way her pulse leapt when he entered a room, the way she leaned unconsciously toward his voice, the way she measured her days by his presence, how she ached for his touch.

Her throat tightened, and she blinked hard, afraid the tears would spill. She searched his face, that steady, unflinching gaze, the one that said the matter was already decided.

A laugh threatened to break loose, unsteady with joy. She bit it back, her lips trembling instead into a smile. She nodded. “Yeah, that sounds nice.”

Alaric grinned at her. “Aye, verra nice.”

***

The column stretched long and slow along the rutted track, a ribbon of steel and horseflesh winding northward.

The air was colder now, the hills bristling with autumn color, the sky low with gray that promised harsher weather to come.

Hooves struck hollow on the frosty ground, wagons creaked and jolted, and the breath of men and beasts smoked white in the crisp air.

Ivy sat on the bench of one of the wagons, bundled in cloak and plaid, Lily swaddled in her arms. The baby slept warm against her chest, her small breaths soft as feathers beneath Ivy’s chin.

Beside her, Ewan kept the reins loose in his hands, the sway of the wagon as familiar as the saddle it seemed.

Gone a day, they’d been, and she missed Claire so much already.

She’d wanted Claire to come with them, had already gotten Alaric’s permission, but Claire had shocked Ivy by declining.

“Come with us,” Ivy had begged days ago, after Alaric had announced his intention to depart Caeravorn. Ivy had expected to see instant relief and a thrill at the invite on Claire’s face.

Instead, Claire had looked down, twisting her hands together in front of her.

“I think I’ll stay right here,” she said evasively. “Caeravorn suits me.” Then, with an awkwardness unusual for Claire—and a comical little wince—she added quickly, “Of course, I’ll have to ask Ciaran.”

Ivy had been stunned. She hadn’t doubted for a moment that Claire would want to go wherever she and Lily were bound.

But then, despite her own days being consumed with Lily and Alaric, Ivy had noticed the looks that passed between Claire and Ciaran.

Smoldering, intent—too reminiscent of the way Alaric had first looked at Ivy.

And Claire, for all her composure, was hardly subtle in return.

More than once Ivy had caught her friend’s covert, lingering glances, a flicker of longing in them that spoke plainly enough.

It hadn’t been lost on Ivy that Claire had left a husband behind in another century.

And she appreciated that now, that life felt impossibly far away, like a book closed and set back on a shelf.

Ivy could hardly blame her for responding to what was in front of her, tangible and immediate.

Still, she’d been compelled to remind Claire of the man’s existence. “Claire...what about your husband?”

Claire had drawn in a deep breath and exhaled. “I know. I know! But,” she’d said, and her shoulders had sagged. “He doesn’t love me, hasn’t for a long time. That doesn’t excuse or condone anything, I know, but....” She’d shrugged again, helplessly.

Ivy had nodded. “But you might never see him again, might be here... for the rest of your life.”

“Funny, isn’t it?” Claire had mused. “My response to such a suggestion should be an emphatic, Hell no . And yet, it’s not,” she explained simply.

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.

By midday, 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. Or im possible. 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 ken ye .”

His words struck her still. She hadn’t expected such certainty from him, so blunt and absolute. For a moment she could only stare, overwhelmed by the beauty of it.

She blinked rapidly, undone by his words. And she knew then in that moment, what she’d suspected for some time, that she was in love with him.

“I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve that kind of faith,” she whispered, her voice unsteady, “but I’m thankful for it. I feel the same. I know you, Alaric. And it’s enough. It’s more than enough.”

By the time the sun dipped low, casting long golden shafts across the hills, the road bent sharply, and Braalach came into view.

Ivy drew in a sharp breath. The keep stood high on a rise, its high gray walls crowned with towers, banners snapping in the wind.

The castle was tall, reaching up toward the expanse of open sky, and the loch in the foreground spread wide and gleaming at its feet.

Beyond, the hills rolled away in every direction, vast and unbroken, as though the world itself opened here.

It stole Ivy’s breath.

Beside her, Alaric straightened in the saddle, pride unmistakable in the set of his jaw. “Home, lass,” he said quietly. “At last.”

Something in Ivy shifted, deep and certain. The moment her eyes settled on it, she felt it—the same ache in her chest she had carried as a girl when she believed she’d touched the edge of heaven.

“Alaric,” she breathed, her voice trembling.

“This—oh, my gosh, I just got goosebumps.” A laugh broke out of her, half-sigh, half-wonder.

“When I was a kid at my grandparents’ house, I used to run barefoot through the soybean fields.

The sky stretched on forever, no end anywhere I looked.

The sun was warm, and the air smelled of earth and growing things.

Back then, I thought that was as close to heaven as anyone could ever get.

” Her lips parted as she shook her head slowly, unable to look away from the keep—home.

“But just now—just looking at Braalach—I had that same feeling again. That vastness. That anything was possible. I...I was wrong back then.” She swallowed, clutching Lily closer, her eyes shining.

“This, here—with you, with Lily. This is as close to heaven as I’ll ever get. ”