“Aye.” Mother touched Bradana’s face. “But be careful. I would no’ wish to see ye hurt or harmed.”
Before Bradana could frame a reply, or say that being sent away into this marriage would harm her terribly, Mother rushed on.
“Speaking o’ which—I could no’ help but mark ye have been spending much time wi’ yer cousin from Erin.”
Bradana’s whole body came on alert. “Adair? He is no’ my blood cousin. And I merely keep him company some afternoons while he is healing. Keeping him occupied until he can be sent on his way. His treatment at the hands o’ this family has been shameful.”
Once more, Mother’s gaze met hers. “Are ye certain that is all? He is a very good-looking young man wi’ a lot o’ charm and a ready tongue. Do no’, daughter, let his charm beguile ye. He will soon be gone, and ye ha’ far more important things to occupy yer mind.”
A flush rose through Bradana’s body, one she hoped her mother did not see. “Do I seem the sort o’ woman who might be beguiled by any man?”
“No’ in the ordinary way, no. But as I say, Adair MacMurtray is remarkably attractive.”
He was the sunlight of her world. Though she could scarcely say so.
Whereas Earrach—aye, he was dark and brooding and looked always displeased. To be sure, she did not know the man, and one could not judge merely by appearances. And yet…
“Be careful wi’ your heart,” Mother whispered. “Sometimes ’tis a woman’s only possession. Now, try on your dresses and let us decide how best to arrange your hair for your wedding.”
Chapter Sixteen
Mican MacGillean andhis party duly arrived two days later with a certain amount of fanfare, despite the fact that it was raining. Bradana tried not to take the weather as a bad omen. She had worries and distractions enough already.
They had advance notice from their outlooks that the party approached, and despite the downpour, she, Kendrick, and Mam were standing outside when the MacGilleans arrived. The group was not a large one, just Chief Mican himself with Earrach, another, older man who looked like an advisor, and a company of three guards.
They dismounted swiftly in front of the hall, where Kendrick had lads waiting to take the weary ponies away.
Bradana could not help but look at once to Earrach. The man she was to wed. When they had met before, she had managed to dismiss that eventuality from her mind. At least, she’d told herself it did not yet threaten her. Now it had crept up on her, full force.
Much as she remembered him did he appear. He was perhaps of an age with Adair, but a bit taller and more broadly made, with heavy shoulders and a build that argued a large allowance of muscle. His dark hair, nearly black, lay upon the shoulders of his fine cloak in a wild mane. His heavy brows made him appear to be always scowling.
He turned his dark gaze to her also, almost at once. Eyes black as the wing of a raven made a swift inspection. Did he approve of what he saw? Was Mother right, and such approval might ease her way with him?
“Mican, my friend!” Kendrick exclaimed. “We are honored to ha’ ye here. Come in out o’ the rain.”
They went together with Mam in the lead—Kendrick, Mican, and the older man. Earrach hung back so he could follow Bradana, and she could feel his gaze at her back.
“Welcome to our home,” said Mam, once they entered the hall.
“Mistress MacCaigh.” Mican gave her a bow before turning to Kendrick. “Aye, man, and I see ye ha’ been keeping busy. Like mother, like daughter, eh, Earrach?” He turned to his son. “Ye will soon ha’ the daughter in a like state.”
An icy silence fell.
“Forgive my ready words,” Mican said to Mam, not to Bradana. “We are a rough and ready lot up north. We maun be. Do we no’ hold the northern gate against the savages?”
Savages.Bradana was being sent to live among those who called their neighbors savages.
“Will ye no sit down?” Mother invited him sweetly. “Warm yourselves. Bradana, please serve the heather ale.”
Bradana shed her cloak and hurried to serve. She wore one of her new gowns, soft green—a color that reminded her of Adair’s eyes.
But she could not let herself think of him. Could not compare anyone else to him.
“Aye, well. Thank ye.” Mican gave Bradana a frank look as she bent to pour his drink. He had the same dark eyes as his son and a broad, heavy face.
“She is a beauty, Earrach, and no mistake. Cursed if I would no’ take her mysel’, if it were not yer place ahead o’ me. I am a widower, ye ken,” he said to Bradana’s bosom.
Mother and Bradana both stared at him in affront.
