Page 9 of For an Exile’s Heart (Ancient Songs #2)

I t grew dark as night. A storm moved in from the sea with the speed so often employed, turning what had been a lovely day into windy wet.

Bradana did not consciously choose her direction. Her foray out to seek Adair was not about anything so rational as conscious thought. It seemed more a pull, and so she let it pull her.

She could hear the other searchers for a time until, as Kendrick had said, they spread out. He’d sent out many of the men who habitually went hunting. Kerr and Toren had, in the end, been left behind.

She did not fear getting lost. She knew these woods too well, being in the habit of going off by herself when things at home became unbearable. Besides, she had Wen.

The hound ranged ahead of her and from side to side, but he always came back and, as if checking in with her, gazed into her eyes. She had not brought a pony but went afoot, and took a more northerly track than the others had.

All around her, Alba spoke. It did so in the rustling of the bushes as the wind blew in from the sea. The flight of birds, the sound of her footsteps on deep loam. To her, this land was not so much a place as a living being, one that held an ancient kind of magic as aware of her as she was of it.

Dark, aye—especially now—mysterious and somehow loving. Such was her Alba. So she whispered to the land as she went, speaking in her heart. Take me to him.

A hawk arose with a great flapping of wings and flew northeastward. She veered to follow it.

The first drops of rain came slowly, making a pattern of sound, here, there, great splotches like hands striking a bodhran drum.

Wen raced back to her side then darted off again, looking back at her over one furry shoulder.

Again, she followed.

He appeared through the trees walking slowly and leading the pony. He looked like a vision—one of the gods, perhaps, loose in the world. Indeed, it took Bradana an instant to recognize him even though her heart knew. Her heart knew at once and leaped ahead to him.

His step did not falter when he saw her; he merely corrected course slightly so he could meet with her. He did not pause till they faced one another.

“Mistress Bradana.”

“There ye be, then. Everyone is out looking for ye.”

One brown eyebrow rose. “So ye have found me.”

“So I have.” She performed a swift inspection of him. Brown hair tangled. Boots covered in pine needles and loam. Tunic opened at the throat, allowing her a glimpse of what lay beneath. “Are ye hurt?”

He shook his head.

“Those two scoundrels Kerr and Toren deserted ye?”

“Your brothers, aye.”

“They are no’ my brothers,” she informed him swiftly. “My mother merely married wi’ their father.”

He gave her that lightning smile of his. “Fortunate for ye.”

“No’ so fortunate, since I have had to put up wi’ them all these years.” She turned. “Come along. ’Tis raining harder.”

But he was busy caressing Wen, who had greeted him enthusiastically, rubbing the hound’s neck and ears. Bradana imagined those beautiful hands touching her own body and flushed with heat.

She did not want that. She did not want him. She had never fallen into the weakness of wanting a man.

“Are we far from the settlement?”

“Not too far. Ye nearly made your own way back. How, I canna imagine.” They moved off.

The smile came slower this time. “If I told ye, ye would not believe me.”

“I might.”

But he only shook his head and stole a look over his shoulder. “’Tis a strange place, this Alba.”

“’Tis a wondrous place. A magnificent place. A fierce and ancient one.”

“Ye love it.”

“Down to my bones,” she admitted. “As, I will suppose, ye love Erin.”

“So I do.”

It rained in earnest now. The drops hit Adair in the face and ran down—struck all four of them hard.

“Then why did ye leave there?” she asked him.

“I did no’ want to. I was sent.”

“D’ye always do as you’re told?”

“Nay. D’ye?”

“Very seldom do I do as I am told.” She thought of Earrach, and the arguments Kendrick had put forth for her to wed with him. Whether or not she would prove obedient in that—well, they would have to see.

“Come along.” She hurried now, but not because she wanted shed of Adair’s company. Nay, not that.

When they emerged from the trees, the settlement lay before them to the south. The sea stretched out angry with big, dark blue combers rolling in. The buildings seemed to huddle against the storm.

“Come,” she urged again, and reached out to snag his hand.

The instant their fingers met, skin to skin, she received a vision. Swift and hard it came, blotting out all that lay before her and allowing her to see instead—

A man—nay, not this man, but another just as beautiful in his way. A mane of auburn hair and a pair of hazel eyes that anchored her soul. He leaned in and kissed her softly, bestowing the caresses first to the palm of each hand, then at either corner of her mouth, both cheeks, and her forehead. A blessing.

“Mistress Bradana? What is it?”

She had stumbled. Adair’s grip kept her from falling.

“Naught. It is all right.” Only it was not. Something grave, terrible, and wonderful came at her. From him? From the past, mayhap.

Other figures emerged from the forest also on their way back to the settlement, fleeing the hard rain. They included Kendrick and one of his advisors. The chief looked immensely relieved to see Adair.

“There ye be!” he cried, as Bradana had. “By the Dagda, I did no’ want to have to send word back to yer father that ye were lost. Anlon”—he turned to his companion—“take the pony, will ye, and see him tended.”

“Aye, so.” The man moved off.

Kendrick fixed Adair with a hard eye. “Ye can come wi’ me.”

*

Mistress Tavia had a good fire burning, and Adair availed himself of its comfort. His uncle’s wife bustled about, giving Adair a cup of warmed heather ale. He drank while keeping an eye on Bradana.

He figured she would leave now, go off to at least change into dry clothing. Her things clung to her, and her hair hung down, dripping and turned amber-dark with the wet.

He did not want her to leave. Just as he had not wanted to let go of her hand. But she had cast his fingers off as soon as Kendrick appeared from the forest.

Mayhap she stayed because Wen, also very wet, had hunkered down beside Adair, as close as he could get.

Adair did not know what to make of what had happened out in the forest, the sense of communion with the stag and the aid it had lent. Meeting with Bradana after and that terrible, powerful moment when she’d seized his hand. The emotions that had come at him then, rising up seemingly from nowhere.

Nay, not from nowhere. They had a source. One he did not comprehend.

Had she felt that also? He watched her even as he pretended to center his attention on Wen, so close beside him.

The hound, out of all these here, seemed to favor him.

“Wha’ happened?” Kendrick asked, taking a seat also by the fire. “Tell me now before my scamps o’ sons arrive.”

Adair squinted at his uncle. Would he welcome the truth? Some men did not wish to hear ill of their kin, and especially their sons.

A bit ruefully, Adair said, “My cousins took me up through the forest. It seemed we did no’ take a direct route but circled round some. But then, I do not know the land. At length we came to a clearing, a good place for hunting, so I thought. They left me there.”

Kendrick huffed out an unhappy breath. “How did ye—”

Before he could complete the question, Kerr and Tolen came in. They crashed into the chamber noisily, shedding water, and Mistress Tavia, who’d just sat down, stood up again with a cry of dismay.

“Och!” said Tolen, stopping just inside the door. “So ye found him, then.”

He did not sound particularly pleased about it. Adair reckoned he was supposed to have perished out in the wild.

“Wha’ happened?” Kendrick cried. “Your cousin was in your care.”

“No’ our fault,” Tolen said quickly.

And in a dour voice, Kerr repeated, “No’ our fault.”

“How not? Ye took him hunting and were meant to look after him.”

“He went astray,” Tolen claimed with a hard look at Adair that cursed him for failing to remain so.

“So,” Kendrick barked, “ye did no’ leave him out there on purpose?”

“Is that wha’ he says?” Tolen demanded with scorn. “Nay—he took a fright, so he did, when faced wi’ our wild country. I reckon he is used to the soft fields o’ Erin.”

The scorn in Toren’s voice made Adair shift uncomfortably.

It was Bradana who replied. “He did find his own way back, though, mostly. Wen and I met him up in the trees no’ far off.”

Tolen’s hard glare scorched her. He said nothing.

Kendrick roared, “My sons have embarrassed and disappointed me. There is a law o’ hospitality. ’Tis as good as a geis. This law ha’ ye broken.”

Both young men looked angry, neither of them ashamed.

Mistress Tavia waved her hands at them. “Go. Go. Ye be shedding water everywhere.”

Seizing the escape she offered, they went. A silence fell in the room, during which Mistress Tavia once more sat down, cradling her belly.

“Kendrick,” she said at length, “I am no’ fit to tolerate this nonsense.”

“Nay,” Kendrick agreed, apparently abashed even as his sons were not. He lifted his eyes to Adair. “I apologize for my sons’ actions. They are strong-headed and it leads them into trouble from time to time. Ye maun forgive their boyish antics.”

Adair must forgive nothing, but he did not say so.

“Boyish antics!” Mistress Tavia exclaimed. “They are men full grown.”

Kendrick ignored her. “Nephew, perhaps ’twould be best for yoursel’ and all concerned if ye went back home as soon as possible. As soon as this rain passes, mayhap. It should clear by morning.”

For reasons unknown to him, Adair looked at Bradana. Their gazes met and tangled for the briefest moment before she looked away.

“Uncle.” Adair returned his attention to Kendrick. “I cannot leave wi’ my father’s business unspoken.”

“In the morn,” Kendrick declared. “There has been enough, nephew, for one day.”

“As ye wish.”

Bradana left soon after, saying she must change into dry clothing, taking the hound with her.

Though Adair sat till his own clothing dried, she did not return.