“Nay.” The fear that gripped her near blotted out everything they had shared, so terribly bright was it. “If ye should fall—”
“Ha’ ye still so little faith in me?”
“I ha’ need o’ ye, Adair, that outweighs aught else. If ye should fall…” It seemed an old fear, one that predated all she felt for him.
“What kind o’ man would I be if I did not fight for ye?”
“One who breathes,” she told him passionately. “One who continues to love me.”
“Always.”
Before he could reach for her mouth, she pulled away from him. If she did not go now, she would not go at all.
“Husband,” she whispered from the door, and went out into the gray morning.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Adair paced theconfines of his chamber, which now felt like nothing so much as a prison. He could still feel Bradana’s hands upon him, the slide of her fingers across his skin and the heat of her mouth. Each touch a gift. Each a blessing.
She had given herself to him this night without restraint. Opened herself to him, not just in body but in spirit.
And he had done the same.
Even though she’d voiced her desire for that time together, he had not expected her to slip in through his door that way. Even more, he had not expected any woman ever to claim his heart, his life.
Back home, he’d lived so lightly. Performed his duties and sought out pleasure. Here in Alba—everything had changed.
He’d not imagined a love such as he felt for Bradana, but he should. From the moment he’d seen her, she had pulled at him, spoken to him, sung to him. Called upon the very root of his soul.
And he had just watched her go from him to handfast with another man.
How could he let that happen?
He could not.
The Adair he’d been back in Erin might. He could possibly have turned a shoulder, declared it not his fight.
The Adair who stood here in Alba did not take this lightly. He had iron in his backbone, was a warrior who would not flinch from the battle.
Indeed, Bradana’s love had so transfigured him, he scarce recognized himself.
He knew what he must do, and by all the gods, he would do it.
What then? What if he felled Earrach MacGillean? He and Bradana would need to get away. He would have to take her back to Erin with him—her and Wen—whether she liked it or not.
He felt a measure of relief in that. He longed to be in Erin and would not mind having Bradana there with him.
And if it started a war between cousins? One fought across a narrow stretch of the Celtic Sea?
Then war would come. His father would have to understand.
They had trained long and hard for the field, had Gawen’s three sons, Adair behind his two brothers. Baen possessed a measure of prowess with the sword. Would he not one day lead the clan? And though they battled not for territory these days, the King of Ulster could call upon their ties of fealty at any time.
Daerg had dutifully gained competence also, Father insisting he stand at Baen’s back. What Da truly meant was Daerg must be able to take his brother’s place, should the worst happen.
Adair had been left mostly to his own whims, it being assumed both his other brothers would not fall.
But he had liked training in the field. Liked the feel of a sword in his hand. The effortless sensation of working his muscles and, even in play, besting an opponent.
