Page 47 of For an Exile’s Heart (Ancient Songs #2)

N ot until they reached Adair’s quarters did he realize just how unsuitable they were for a man, his wife, and her large hound. Too small and cramped, too untidy. The air smelled stale, and he propped open the door, gazing around at the mess he’d left weeks ago before a hasty departure.

Barely room for the two of them, to say nothing of Wen.

“Ah,” he said with considerable chagrin, “perhaps this will not do. I will find us better. For now…”

Bradana perched on the side of the bed. There was nowhere else to sit. “If water might be had, for Wen?”

“To be sure. And ye will be hungry.”

“I want only to sleep.”

She had slept away most of the voyage. Should he be worried?

“Aye, so. Can ye make yourself comfortable? I will see about food and drink. A fire.”

“I am warm enough.”

Adair went to her, took her in his arms. He bestowed a kiss in each palm, dropped one on each side of her mouth. Both cheeks. Her forehead. She burned to his lips.

“Bradana, are ye ill?”

“Nay. Just…” Clearly she had no words for what she felt.

“I will send the healer.”

“Nay. Do not. I wish only to be alone, save for Wen.”

And him? Did she want to be with him?

She had seen nothing of the settlement or this land he loved so well. No more than a glimpse of it on their way in.

Once he showed her all that lay here, she would settle. She would be happy.

“Aye,” he said again. “I will send someone with food and water for Wen. I must go and attend my father. Make my explanations.”

“Go.” She kissed him softly, and the glimmer of a smile lit her eyes. “Husband.”

He should not worry, he told himself as he stopped by the kitchens with his request, as he headed for the great hall after. Their love would hold them, wherever they might be.

Baen was still with his father when he reached the hall, which made him scowl. He did not want to do this in front of his oft-superior brother.

But aye, Baen had failed in the same task as he. What cause had his brother to find fault with him?

The two men had been speaking avidly, but broke off when Adair came in.

“Sit,” Gawen bade him. “Quench yourself. Baen has just been telling me he what he remembers of Mistress Bradana from his visit to Dalriada. He says she was betrothed then to a chief in the north.”

“A chief’s son, one Earrach.” Adair sat down and poured a mug of ale. “Dead now.” He drank deep. “I killed him.”

“What?” Gawen fair roared the word. He exchanged an incredulous look with Baen. “This was to be a goodwill mission. And ye come home wi’ blood on your hands?”

“And bringing your victim’s woman?” Baen added.

“’Tis a long story.”

“Ye had better tell it, then.”

Adair did, to the best of his ability. It made no favorable impression on either of his listeners. Before he finished, Baen got up and began pacing. His father just stared at him in angry disbelief.

“So,” Baen said when Adair reached an end, “ye ha’ destroyed relations wi’ Kendrick instead of bettering them.”

“And,” Gawen added heavily, “ruined any chance of our gaining our lands there.”

Adair sighed and shook his head. “Father, I am not certain ye want lands there in Alba. They would be of dubious worth and hard to hold.” Strange land. Magical land. Wild with beauty.

“That is not for ye to decide, Adair. Those lands are owed me in good faith. They were to be my legacy to Daerg. I have to say, I expected better of ye.”

A spark of anger joined the frustration and worry already in Adair’s heart. Despite his weariness, he got to his feet.

“Why? Why should ye think I would succeed where my brothers both failed? Ye never expected much o’ me before.”

Gawen too sprang up from his big chair. “I never required much o’ ye. A lad wi’ two fine older brothers need not trouble his head over much, and I let ye run as ye pleased. Mayhap I did not ask enough o’ ye. And the very first time I do?” Gawen seemed to choke on his own words. “Ye come home wi’ someone else’s woman. And trouble behind ye!”

“Bradana is no one else’s woman, save mine.” Of all things, Adair was sure of that. “If we are not welcome here, we will leave.”

“And go where?” Baen challenged. “Have ye not burned your boat behind ye?”

Indignation joined Adair’s other careening emotions. “That is not fair—”

“Enough!” Gawen cried. He focused angry, disappointed eyes on Adair. The disappointment, Adair found the harder of the two to bear. “I did not say ye are not welcome here. But what to do now? Kendrick will be furious wi’ us—the very man who owes me a share of land. This Mican—a powerful chief, by the sound o’ it—will make naught but an enemy if we do achieve a settlement there.”

“I have good relations with Bradana’s grandsire.”

“An old man teetering on the edge o’ death, by the sound o’ it, and one whose holding may well be under attack also. Son, I despair o’ ye.”

He had, so it seemed, fully expected Adair to return in full triumph. For him to prove his worth. Adair’s heart sank.

“Perhaps,” he said steadily, “’tis best Daerg achieve his own lands. Perhaps ’tis best if I do also.”

“Ye, with what army?” Baen growled. “Did your time in Dalriada teach ye naught? It is a hard land, and all that here in Erin is held by old men.”

Gawen glanced at him. “Who are ye calling old? Adair, get out o’ my sight. Go back to wasting your time wi’ your friends and learning to play songs upon your harp.”

“I have a wife now. There will be no more playing at games.”

Gawen lifted a brow. “Then what d’ye intend to do?”

“I thought,” Adair said, surprising even himself, “I might work at training the men for the field.” In Alba, his sword had felt remarkably strong and sure in his hand. “Perhaps work wi’ the lads coming up.” It felt right, that notion, like the echo of something known long ago.

“Surely,” Baen said, “that is Daerg’s place.”

“Daerg is no warrior,” Adair returned.

“And ye be that?” Baen shot back.

“Mayhap so.”

“Och well,” Gawen said, “if that is your choice. Go now and tend your stolen bride.”

Not stolen , Adair thought angrily as he left the hall and walked out into the quiet morning. Meant for him, if ever anything was.

She’d merely been awaiting him there in Alba. Spending her time till he could find her. Till they could complete one another’s lives.

That was what mattered. Not his father’s disappointment or his brother’s attempt to cast disfavor.

Yet the very fabric of his world had changed. The whole time he’d been away, a part of him had longed for Erin. For his life here. For the beautiful hills, the soft rains, the glorious afternoons. A piece of his heart had remained here all the while.

Now his place here felt…well, sullied.

He would change that, though. He would work hard and earn a place. He could do that for Bradana’s sake.

He would show her this land he loved, and they would both be at home in Erin.