Chapter 21

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The fine wool of Alex's cloak felt luxurious against my cheek. I couldn't remember the last time I felt the brush of fine fabric across my skin. After a shocked moment, regaining his center of balance, Alex laughed. He encircled his arms around me. Holding me, providing the first whispers of physical comfort I had received in years. His cheek was hot against my skin where it pressed against my neck. I threaded my fingers through the curls at his nape.

"Thank you, thank you! Thank you!" I blubbered my gratitude to Alex and the nameless and voiceless gods; offered my thanks to the fairies. It didn't matter who had made Alex's appearance possible. It only mattered that he had come. His arms were warm and solid and he smelled like campfire and cold air and ale. The strength of his embrace assured me he was healthy and hale.

Squeezing him extra tight for a few more seconds, I composed myself before stepping back. I wiped the remaining tears on the back of my grubby sleeves. My appearance was shameful, careworn, and ragged. My boots had holes in them and my dress was two or three inches too short, the hem unraveling and fabric shredding. Alex looked so whole, so well-fed; his face full of radiance, bright from the wind and travel. I offered him a timid smile — abruptly self-conscious in front of my friend.

"I — " I tried to explain how happy I was to see him, but my voice cracked. New tears spilled over my cheeks as my eyes welled up again.

"It's good to see you too, Eilean," he said with a smile, reaching up and brushing his thumb along my cheek.

"Did Calum find you?" I asked, scanning the riders that waited in a semi-circle around where Alex and I stood. They adverted their gazes and studied the castle or their reins.

"Calum?"

"I sent him to find you," I explained, looking back at Alex. I allowed myself a momentary swoon as I met his sparkling blue eyes. How I had missed their depths. Everything about Alex was familiar and nostalgic. The arc of his cheek, the slope of his shoulders. I wanted to reach out and touch him, to anchor myself on his arm and know for certain that he was real and he was here. "Calum McKerran, Laird Grant of the Northern Isles."

Alex scowled, "Why would you send a Northern Laird to find me?"

"I hadn't heard from you in months," I said with a shrug. "I've never received a letter from the front, and I didn't know if you were hurt or ill or had entered the war —"

Alex gave me a slow, lazy grin. A trail of heat ran down my spine at the indulgence in his knowing smile.

"Worried about me, Eilean?" His voice was a low purr edged in cockiness that skittered over my soul.

I couldn't stop myself from blurting, "Of course I worried."

When he laughed, I looked down, blushing.

Alex looped his arm around my neck and pulled me tight into his chest. His lips brushed against my hairline. "I worried about you, too."

With plodding footsteps, Angus walked up to us with a scowl on his face. "I assume you know this man, based on your embrace and utter lack of regard to proper security protocols."

Alex tensed, bristling. "And who are you?"

I stepped out from under Alex's arm and waved my hand between the two men. "Angus Boyd, meet Alexander Leslie, Lord of the Fist of the Mainland. Alex, meet Angus Boyd, my secretary, and man to Laird Grant of the Northern Isles."

"Sworn to serve the lady as part of my Laird's promise to Stormway." Angus bowed his head tightly, not taking his eyes off Alex.

"Sworn to your father?" Alex asked me with raised brows.

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