Bradana looked at the woman sharply. What else had she noticed? “I could no’ sleep. Wen and I went walking early up the shore.”
The woman nodded.
“Why are ye here so early, Genna?”
“There is much to be done—your bath and your new gown to put on, your hair to arrange, all before Chief Kendrick calls for ye. Ye will wish to be perfect today, o’ all days.”
But Bradana was not perfect, far from it. She did not always keep to her place or guard her tongue. She often chose her own path even if it be a stony one. She went about with dirt on her shoes and tears in her clothing. She was too open, not humble or modest enough. Adair loved her anyway.
Adairlovedher.
Just as she loved him, without reservation.
There in her chamber she drew a deep breath. Whatever happened during this day to come, she could let no harm come to him. Even if that meant sacrificing herself.
She thought about that as Genna prepared her for a far more tangible sacrifice. As she stripped off the fine green gown, now crumpled, and led her to the bath. Helped wash her hair.
She had believed it would be enough, having Adair once. She’d supposed one night with the man she adored might provide a kind of bulwark against a future wherein her body was no longer her own.
She’d been wrong, woefully so. Having Adair for one night only made her want him more. It had tightened the bonds that held them, one to the other. They had sworn themselves to each other, man and wife.
How could she go to another man?
Her mother came at noontime, when Genna still worked at arranging Bradana’s hair in a wealth of small braids.
Bradana leaped to her feet. “Mam, how are ye feeling?” Tavia still did not appear well. Her skin retained a gray tinge, her face a pinched expression.
“I am well, daughter.”
“I think ye are not. Have the pains stopped?”
Mam shook her head. “They but come and go. Never mind it now. This day is about ye.”
“If ye be unwell, mayhap we might put off the joining…” Bradana clung to it.
“Nay, och nay. There is no putting it off. Let me look at ye.” Mam’s blue eyes, so like Bradana’s own, made a swift inspection before filling with tears. “Ye will be a beautiful bride.”
“Mother—”
“Aye, I know ye feel uncertain about the match and apprehensive about Earrach. But ye maun trust it is for the best. Do no’ all women go eventually to their husband’s bed?”
“Many of those feel love for the man who will be their husband.”
“And many do not. Daughter, we ha’ spoken o’ this. Perhaps I ha’ given ye too much freedom while growing and let ye escape your duty far too often. It has made ye headstrong. For the sake o’ everyone involved, I ask ye to accept your fate gracefully.”
Should she tell Mother she was in love with another man? Nay, for it would not make a whit of difference. Duty was duty.
“Here, let us see how the dress looks. Genna, slide it over her head. Ye can finish her hair then. Ah, here is Maeve.”
Bradana’s friend slipped through the door, already clad in what Bradana knew to be her finest garb. She smiled cautiously at Bradana before she said, “Ah, I am in time. Mistress Tavia, let me help. Och, is that no’ a beautiful color?”
The dress was indeed a wonderful shade of blue—pale and soft, it picked up the hue of Bradana’s eyes. Once the women had it on her, straightened and pulled, and tied to their satisfaction, Maeve sighed.
“Ye be so beautiful.”
“Is she not?” A little color had come to Mother’s cheeks. “Earrach is a fortunate man, and will think himself so when he sees her.”
“How soon must we go to the great hall?”
