Page 45 of For an Exile’s Heart (Ancient Songs #2)
T heir first quarrel, and their marriage but a day or two old. They waited till they were back in their quarters to begin, Adair burning with so many emotions that he could barely express them. Anger. Distress. Dismay. Frustration.
He did not want to aim all that at Bradana. Yet as soon as they were alone, but for Wen, he set into her.
“Ye promised me ye would no’ do that again.”
Bradana turned to face him. She looked impossibly beautiful to him, with her tangled hair all wild around her, face flushed and eyes overbright. His wild Alban love. Determined to leave this land she adored.
“Do what?” she asked, stalling for time because, to be sure, she knew.
“Sacrifice yoursel’ for me.”
“I am no’—”
He rode over her, a thing so rare he had never before done it. “Sacrificing what ye love, for my sake. This place that is as good as a part o’ ye.”
“Naught matters to me more than ye. And I did no’ promise. I said I could no’ promise—”
“Ha’ ye so little faith in me that ye think I cannot fight Mican?”
“Ye keep asking me that, and I ha’ told ye that is no’ why. If Mican comes and finds ye no’ here, finds both o’ us gone, he will spare the others. All those good people and my brave grandsire.”
“Or he may burn down the settlement. Without us here to help them stand.” To Adair’s own surprise, he was not afraid to fight. Growing up in Erin, he’d been no devoted warrior. True, skill with weapons had come easily to him. But going off to fight for the king’s interests had not held much interest.
This situation was vastly different. And his anger refused to lie down.
“Ye do no’ want to go to Erin.” He made of it an accusation.
And watched a war fought in Bradana’s face. She did not want to live her life in another land. Nor did she want to admit that.
“I want to be wherever ye be, Adair.”
“That is no’ an answer.”
“It is!”
Wen whined. Bradana dug a calming hand into her hound’s fur.
Fiercely, Adair asked, “And if I wish to stay here with your grandfather and fight against Mican? Will ye be with me then?”
“Och, I beg ye, nay!” She came forward into his arms—an action he found hard to resist. “Please, Adair.”
Adair knew how badly she wanted this. He could feel that, just as he could feel her determination at other times, or her desire for him. A stronger wave of frustration swept through him.
“Would ye leave your grandfather knowing ye will likely no’ see him again?”
“If doing so may spare his life, this place he loves. Adair, I canna explain it. This fear reaches so deep inside me.”
He understood that. Despite the carefree way he had lived his life before coming to Alba, he too felt things deep. It occurred to him, for the first time, that maybe he had chosen to live lightly in denial of those deep feelings.
But now, here in this dark land, those feelings had caught up with him.
“Bradana.” He trapped her face between his hands and gazed into her eyes. Eyes full of storm. Of passion. “I do not like to run from a battle.”
“Ye are no’ running. Merely returning home as ye ha’ wanted to do since first ye came here. Was it no’ ye who said over and over again, we should sail to Erin?”
His frustration built higher. Before he could speak, she went on.
“I thought we were to be equals in our decision making. Standing side by side.”
“Aye, so,” he growled. “Then why do ye push this at me?”
In a rush she said, “I am no’ pushing the decision so much as agreeing wi’ what ye have wanted all along. Adair, d’ye think Grandfather can hold this settlement against Mican’s full army?”
Adair tried to consider that rationally, without his anger in the way. Some instinct—as deep as the fear that beset Bradana—told him if he stayed and fought his best, they could withstand aught Mican might bring. But he could no more assure her of that than he could promise life would never part them.
Only that if it did, he would find her again. He would search always, life after life, for this woman’s love.
A knock at the door heralded the arrival of a visitor. Bradana tore herself from Adair’s arms and went to answer.
Morag slipped in, distress marking her face. She looked from Bradana to Adair and back again. “Ye have been quarrelling.”
“Nay,” Bradana said. “Merely discussing what should be done.”
“I know I ha’ no part in it,” Morag said, her eyes swimming in tears. “The decision must be yours alone. But if ye are thinking o’ leaving here, and suppose the going might spare Rohracht his life…” She wound her fingers together. “Och, I ken fine I am going to lose him. And, man that he is, he might prefer to die in fight than in that bed.” She tried to smile. “A heroic end. But one that may steal precious time from me.
“I ha’ never asked for much. I stood by while other women married, and I tried to be of help to those I knew. My union wi’ Rohracht came late.” She glanced at Bradana. “After he lost your grandmother. I waited my whole life for him.”
“Mistress,” Adair said huskily, for he understood that kind of love, “are ye saying ye wish for us to go?”
“I am.” She looked torn. “Though I would no’ wish Rohracht to know that I came to ye.”
Adair sighed. Had no one faith enough in him to believe he could fight them free?
He eyed Morag. “This is no’ what the chief wants.”
“Nay. He wants to make a stand. A valiant last stand. His honor and his heart are stronger than the rest o’ him.”
Adair suggested gently, “Sometimes a man must be allowed to follow his heart.”
“Aye, ye be right, young master. But ’tis I who canna bear the cost.”
Bradana reached out and clasped the woman’s hand in a quick gesture of understanding. United they stood in this.
Heavily, Adair said, “I know not how I will bring the chief this news. He has favored me with acceptance, even a place here if I choose to take it. Am I to answer that with flight?”
“I will speak to my grandfather,” Bradana said.
Adair experienced another flash of anger. “I will be man enough to take the whole o’ the decision to him.”
Curious how he had not wanted to come to Alba. Now, with his whole being, he did not want to leave.
Morag let go of Bradana and seized Adair’s hands. “Thank ye, Master Adair. I understand this does no’ sit well with ye. But ye shall forever have my gratitude.”
It did not sit well with Rohracht MacFee either, when Adair and Bradana went to him just a short while later. They went hand in hand, even though they were not entirely united in will. In spirit, aye, but Adair’s emotions still would not lie down.
He saw a reflection of those feelings in the old man’s eyes. Rohracht listened silently to Bradana’s explanation, into which she launched almost at once, before looking to Adair.
“And ye, young man? My granddaughter has said her piece. But where do ye stand?”
“I will admit to ye, Chief Rohracht, I am torn. I want the best defense for yourself and those here. Bradana is convinced that means removing us from the settlement, and Mican’s reason for attack.”
“Ye be no’ so certain?”
Adair bowed his head.
“Young man, I ha’ accepted ye as a grandson and think o’ ye as such. Have I no’ said I would like to leave this holding in your hands if—when I pass?”
“Grandfather,” Bradana answered before Adair could, “there may be no holding to leave, should Mican strike in revenge.”
“Women.” Rohracht closed his eyes and seemed to muse to himself. “They look too hard upon their fear and see not the glory.”
“There is no glory, Grandfather, in death.”
“Aye so, lass, there is if ’tis met in courage.” He opened his eyes to look at her again. “Ye ha’ plenty o’ courage, lass. And the man ye ha’ chosen possesses even more. Bear that in mind.”
“I will,” Bradana vowed. But Adair knew she focused only on getting him away. On her fear, still. “We will leave at once, as soon as we can prepare the boat.”
She embraced her grandfather and stepped to the door. Adair hesitated before he followed, bent over the bed, and took the old man’s hand in his, a hard grip.
“Forgive me,” he said.
“Lad, there is naught to forgive.”
There was. He deserted this valiant old man, when his sword should be sworn to his service. It was as simple—and as complicated—as that.
Rohracht’s eyes met his. “Remember, ye will always be welcomed back.”