Page 44 of For an Exile’s Heart (Ancient Songs #2)

T he weather changed sharply as they circled northward through the trees and eventually met up with the rest of Adair’s party. Rain moved in from the sea riding the tail of that dawn wind, and soon enough they moved through a steady downpour.

Alba, spreading protective wings over them? Bradana could not quite lose the fancy. The men, all highly relieved to be taking her back to their chief without a fight, traded off going afoot so she could ride a pony, and they came at last to Grandfather’s holding, where they met up with two soaked and worried members of the guard.

“We do no’ ken whether we be followed,” Dabhor told them. “If no’ yet, they will be after us soon enough. They ha’ no need to track us, for they know where we are bound.”

“The chief has set up a strong watch,” one of the guards said. “Mistress Bradana, he will be that glad to see ye.”

He was. Morag came running out to greet them when they arrived, heedless of the rain, and took them straight to the hall, where Rohracht directed matters from his great chair.

Bradana fell into her grandsire’s arms. Love was here, she could feel that. She also felt the old man’s weakness and pain.

“Granddaughter, let me look at ye. How did ye get free?”

“Adair and Wen rescued me. ’Tis only by their wit and courage that I am here.”

Rohracht cast a look at Adair and the hound. “I am that grateful, I ha’ no words. But ye, lass”—he cradled Bradana in his arms—“’twas a foolish, foolish thing ye did turning yersel’ over that way. Did ye think we would no’ defend ye?”

“Just what I asked her,” Adair said softly.

“I did no’ want it to cost ye,” Bradana told the old man, “and cost ye dear.”

“Aye, well, one fights for what is precious. Ye maun promise not to do that again, Granddaughter.”

“I am not sure I can.”

“Stubborn as well as true-hearted.”

“Chief Rohracht,” Adair told the old man, “he will be coming after us—Mican.”

“Aye, no doubt he will. We maun ha’ some time, though, for I do no’ doubt he will go home first and raise an army. No matter, we will be ready for him.”

Would they?

“For now, go and get yoursel’s some dry clothing, rest, and take something to eat. We shall have a war meeting anon.”

“Only if ye will rest also, Grandfather.”

“Just wha’ I ha’ been telling him,” Morag put in.

“I can rest now I know ye are safe. Help me up, Morag.”

He went off to his chamber, and Bradana and Adair, with Wen, repaired to their own.

Once she wore dry clothing, Bradana stood at the door trying to listen for sounds of an alarm above the crashing of the rain. They would come from the south. The only question was when.

Adair sprawled on the bed, watching her.

“D’ye think Grandfather is right and Mican will go home for an army? Have we some time?”

“He canna hope to defeat us wi’ the number o’ men he had with him this time.”

Bradana turned her head and looked at him. “Are ye prepared to fight?”

“I am,” he answered, his eyes steady upon her.

“Even for this place no’ your own?”

“There are good people here. Strong people. They deserve better than to live beneath Mican’s thumb. Besides—if ’tis your place, this, is it no’ also mine?”

“Aye.” She came to him swiftly, put her knee on the bed, and crawled up next to him. “For everything I am is yours.”

He gathered her in to lie beside him. Once more, despite the fear and the doubt, her world came right.

“What your grandfather said,” Adair whispered after a moment. “Ye must promise never to do that again—sacrifice yourself. Ye have no idea how I felt knowing ye were in his hands and prey to whatever he might decide to do.”

Bradana drew a breath. “As I told Grandfather, I canna make that promise. If there’s ever aught I can do to spare or save ye, I will do it.”

“Bradana—”

“’Tis the other side o’ love, is it no’? A love such as we share. Fear. The fear o’ loss. Of parting.”

Adair did not speak, though once again she could feel the emotions moving through him, surging.

“Morag loves Grandfather so much, but she will lose him. In battle, if Mican returns. Or when he loses the other battle he fights. ’Tis…’tis unbearable. Yet it must be borne.”

Very gently, Adair turned her face to his so their lips were only a breath apart. “Would ye, lass, rather not have had me at all than live fearing ye will lose me?”

“Nay. Nay. ” She kissed him fiercely, with all her love and desperation behind it. She could taste his emotions flowing back at her, wide and deep as the ocean.

So much love.

“Not that,” she said when she broke the kiss and clutched him tight. She could hear his heart thundering. Life, to unite them. Such a fragile thread, yet so strong. “It terrifies me how much I love ye, Adair MacMurtray. But I would no’ give up what I’ve found in ye.”

They made love slowly and with devotion while Wen slept on the floor beside them. As Bradana loved her husband, she became more certain than ever what she had to do.

And when a messenger—Morag herself—came to fetch them, Bradana went hand in hand with Adair, her mind already made up.

The meeting took place in her grandfather’s chamber with the old man back in his bed, which Bradana took as a bad sign, even though it was a legitimate council of war.

Master Dabhor was there, as were other key members of the guard, who reported that Mican’s men had not been sighted.

“And we made a few forays out into the wood, scouting for them,” Dabhor said. “Not a glimpse.”

Rohracht grunted. “He must indeed have gone back to collect more men. That gives us some breathing room. But he will return.”

“He will attack,” Dabhor agreed, “and when he does, we maun be ready.”

“We shall be.” Rohracht sounded much stronger than he looked. “Alert the settlement. Arm all the men. Tell the women, children, and aged to be ready to flee when Mican’s army is sighted. They maun go to the hills and wait till the battle is o’er.” He looked at his wife. “That includes ye, Morag.”

Her brow furrowed. “If ye remain here, I do also.”

“To be sure, I will remain here. I mean to fight.” It should have seemed absurd, the old man marooned in the bed making such a declaration. It did not. Too fierce was he, and too determined.

Bradana felt a surge of pride. She came of such stock. Yet that pride came tinged with pity.

Gently, the chief said, “Our men will fight all the better if they do no’ need to worry for the safety o’ their families. That includes me.”

Two tears rolled down Morag’s cheeks.

Rohracht looked at Bradana. “And ye. I would like ye to go wi’ the women—to head the group o’ them and shepherd them if ye will.”

Bradana shifted on her feet. “I am sorry, Grandfather, I cannot.”

“Now, now, I know ye will want to stay and fight beside yer man. Ye and that fine hound o’ yours both. But I need ye elsewhere.”

Bradana drew a breath. She could feel Adair watching her, feel all of them. He had bidden her to not sacrifice herself again.

This time, though, she would need to sacrifice something she loved—near as much as him.

“I believe if Mican comes wi’ his army, he will come for but one reason. Grandfather, he has no real quarrel wi’ ye. Wi’ your people. It is only because Adair and I are here that he brings strife to ye.”

“That is no’ true,” Rohracht declared. “We ha’ battled the man in the past to hold our land. Did his son no’ kill yer cousin in just such a battle?”

“Aye, but now he comes for revenge. ’Tis my being here, and Adair, that has brought him.”

“Bradana…” Adair began.

She ignored him. Tears flooded her eyes. “I canna stand and see this place ye love destroyed, Grandfather, because o’ me.”

“Who says it will be destroyed? Ha’ ye so little faith in me, Bradana?”

“I do have faith in ye.” At that moment, Bradana overflowed with faith in the old man’s courage. But the fear stemmed from a place so deep, she could not gainsay it.

“Ha’ ye so little faith in your man that he canna help us win?”

“He cannot, Grandfather. He will not be here. Adair and I are leaving for Erin.”