'A few,' he answered. 'Most of the women and children have gone to Gillebrid's holding for the spring festival. Half my number of soldiers are with them.'
'And that's the reason it's so quiet?' She turned, smiled up at Alec, and then asked, 'How many serve under your command?'
Jamie forgot her question as soon as she'd asked it. His smile had captured her full attention. 'You're happy to be home again, aren't you?' she said.
Her eagerness pleased him. 'There are five, perhaps six hundred men now, when they're all called together, and yes, English, I'm happy to be home.'
Jamie let him see her exasperation. 'Five or six hundred? Oh, Alec, you do like to jest with me.'
''Tis the truth, Jamie. There are many Kincaid clansmen.'
She could tell he believed what he was telling her. 'By a Scotsman's method of counting. I believe you think you have that many men.'
'What do you mean by that?'
'I'm merely suggesting you need help counting, Alec. After all, you did tell me it would take us three days to get to your home, and it took us several added days.'
'I slowed the pace because of your condition,' Alec explained.
'What condition?'
'You were tender, or have you forgotten that fact?'
She immediately blushed, telling him she hadn't forgotten at all.
'And you're clearly exhausted.'
'I'm not,' Jamie replied. 'It isn't important,' she rushed on when he started frowning. She was about to meet his relatives and wanted to keep him in a cheerful mood. 'If you tell me there are seven hundred men under your direction, then I'll believe you.'
His smile told her she'd placated him. Yet she couldn't resist pricking his arrogance just a little. 'Isn't it strange, though, Alec, that I don't see any men? Could all six hundred be waiting in your courtyard?'
He laughed over the exasperation she tried to hide from him. And then he let out a shrill whistle.
His call was immediately answered. They came from the top of the wall, the cottages, the stables, from the trees and forest surrounding them, these fierce-looking fighting men, until they covered the ground.
He hadn't exaggerated. If anything, she thought he'd understated their number.
While she stared at the soldiers, Alec nodded his approval, then raised his hand into the air. When he made a fist, a resounding cheer split the air.
Jamie was so jarred by the noise that she grabbed hold of Alec's other hand where it rested possessively around her waist. She couldn't stop staring at the men, even though she knew it was rude. She'd come to the land of giants, she decided, as most of the soldiers seemed to be as tall as the pine trees she'd heard they liked to throw.
Their size was most impressive, their watchful gazes unnerving, aye, but it was their state of dress that stunned her speechless.
Cholie hadn't been sotted. She'd known what she was talking about. The Scots did wear women's gowns. Half-naked women's gowns, she qualified. Jamie shook her head. No, they weren't gowns; they were blankets, the Gaelic word for their plaid.
All wore the same plaid. Alec's colors they were. The men had them wrapped around their waists and belted in place; and the plaids barely reached their knees.
Some of the men wore saffron-yellow shirts; others went without. Most were barefoot.
'Would you like to count their number?' Alec asked. He nudged his mount forward, then said, 'I would guess around two hundred are here now, wife. But if you'd like to-'
'I'd say five hundred,' Jamie whispered.
'Now you exaggerate.'
Jamie glanced up at Alec and tried to find her voice. A wall of soldiers lined the path they climbed, and she therefore kept her voice low when she said, 'You have your own legion, Alec, if this be only half your number.'
'Nay. A legion is three thousand, sometimes as many as six thousand men. My number is not so high, Jamie, unless I call up my allies, of course.'
'Of course.'
'You needn't be afraid.'
'I'm not afraid. Why would you think I was afraid?'
'You're shaking.'
'I'm not,' she denied. 'They're all staring at us.'
'They're curious.'
'We didn't catch them unprepared, did we, Alec?' Her voice sounded terribly forlorn.
'What are you talking about?'
She was staring at his chin. He nudged her chin up, saw her wild blush, and became all the more bewildered. 'My warriors are always prepared.'
'They don't look prepared.'
He suddenly understood why she sounded so embarrassed. 'We don't call them gowns.'
Her eyes widened in astonishment. 'Did Beak tell you-'
'I was there.'
'Where?'
'In the stable.'
'You weren't!'
'I was.'
'Oh, God.'
Jamie frantically tried to remember the conversation she'd had with the stable master. 'What else did you overhear?' she asked.
'That Scots have minds of sheep, that we throw pine trees at one another, that we-'
'I was just jesting with my sister when I told her… and I thought Cholie was sotted when she told me… Alec, do they always dress so indecently? With their knees showing?'
It was sinful for him to laugh right in her face. 'You'll get used to our habits once you settle in,' he promised.
'You don't dress like your soldiers, do you?'
She sounded appalled. 'I do.'
'No, you don't.' Jamie sighed when she realized she'd just contradicted him again. He did seem to take offense whenever she corrected him. 'I mean to say, you're wearing proper breeches now and for that reason I did assume-'
'I've been in England, Jamie. 'Tis the reason I wear such cumbersome garb.'
Jamie glanced around her again, then returned her attention to her husband.
'How do they keep their britches rolled up above the hem of their plaids?' she asked.
'They don't.'
'Then what…' From the devilish look in his eyes, Jamie decided she didn't want to know. 'Never mind,' she blurted out. 'I've changed my mind. I don't want to know what they wear underneath.'
'Oh, but I want to tell you.'
He was smiling just like a rascal. Jamie had to sigh over his ungentlemanly remarks and her own unladylike reaction. Lord, he was becoming more handsome by the minute. Her heart started fluttering like a butterfly's wings.
'You may tell me later, then,' she whispered. 'Late at night, Alec, when it's dark and you can't see my embarrassment. Do they wear chain mail when they go into battle?' She added that question to get him to forget about the soldiers' lack of undergarments.
'We never wear armor,' Alec explained. 'Most of us just wear the plaid. The seasoned warriors prefer the old ways, though.'
'What is the old way?' she asked.
'They don't wear anything.'
