“We cannot.”
A sob broke from her throat. “All my persuasions to Kendrick have failed. I must—I must handfast wi’ Earrach tomorrow. Go to his bed. But I will gi’ myself first to ye.”
“My darling. My heart.” Now his hands, the same that had halted the kiss, caressed her. He felt tears on her cheeks. “There must be another way.”
“There is no’.”
“I could challenge him on the morrow. Fight him for ye.”
She stilled. “Ye would do that for me?”
“I would.”
She caught her breath. “And—should ye lose?”
“Bradana, have ye so little faith in me?”
“I believe in ye, above all things, Adair MacMurtray. But he is a hardened warrior. A brute with a high reputation. If ’twere a fight to the death—”
“Then I would kill him, or die. But I would declare before all the world what ye mean to me.”
Her tears now fell in earnest. “And should such a contest go badly, a great light would go out o’ the world. Out o’ my world. I do not think I can live wi’ that.”
“Bradana”—he wove his fingers into her hair—“All my life has been spent in waiting—waiting for ye. If I spend my hope for a future attempting to hold ye, now that I ha’ found ye—will it no’ be well spent?”
“Nay. Nay. Adair, I will no’ see ye spend yoursel’ for me. Let us become one this night—here and now. No one can then take that from us, not even death. If I ha’ that memory to hold to me, I believe ’twill be enough. Tell me ye will love me this night.”
He gave her the only answer he could. “I will.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Bradana rose fromthe bed unsteadily. She could barely see the man who lay upon the cot before her, but she had felt him. Long and lean was Adair MacMurtray. Well muscled and lithe, wearing naught more than the short leggings in which he’d lain down to sleep.
The man she loved. How could she go to her fate—her hard and desperately terrifying fate—without tasting him? Without having him inside her, a memory to take her through the years.
She began removing her clothing, untying the laces that secured the green overdress, which, without regard, she tossed aside. She wriggled from the simple sheath beneath. Her shoes came last.
The cool air brought up goosebumps on her naked skin and she hesitated. If they were caught, if she were found here, ’twould be a terrible scandal. They would be disgraced before the clan. The gods alone knew what would be done to Adair.
Was it worth taking such a chance?
Aye, och aye. Because tomorrow she went to the slaughter. Tomorrow she lost herself. And if one thing might help her hang on to the merest shreds of her sanity, it would be having the man she loved inside her, but once.
So she came back down upon him, naked as she was, and breathed his name. “Adair.”
His hands received her, and he began to tremble. She understood all too well what it was he felt. The rush of joy. The eagerness. All mixed up with a terrible weight of dread.
He did not speak, did not at once try to argue her out of this decision. Instead, his hands moved over her carefully, as if he could not believe the gift he’d been granted. They slid down her back. Across her buttocks. Up her sides to curve around her breasts.
Och, holy great light o’ the gods.
“Bradana.”
Ah, here would come the arguments. All those she knew full well already in her head.
But he said, “I love ye. More than I ever dreamed I could love anyone, I do.”
A sob rose to her throat even as she lit up with delight. Aye, they should speak it out plain now, if ever.
