“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?”
