“Can he reach the hall?”
“He seems determined upon it. He says my music has healing properties.”
Adair would not be surprised if it did. “Well then. Would it no’ be a wondrous thing if your presence here proved his saving?”
“Of saving, I am no’ so certain. But may I tell him ye be willing to meet him?”
“Pray, tell him ’twill be an honor.”
“And I was thinking, Adair—we might become handfasted here. There is naught, is there, to prevent it?” Before he could answer, she drew his hand to her heart. “That is, ye have surrendered any thought o’ going back to Erin, have ye no’?” As he hesitated, she hurried on, “Ye like it here, I can tell. Ye be happy enough here.”
“I do like the place.”
“Well, then it is settled. After Grandfather meets ye tomorrow, I shall approach him on it.”
And if Mican should turn up here looking for them? To be sure, the possibility was what had pushed Adair to make the acquaintance of the guard in the first place.
It would be far better for Bradana’s grandsire and everyone involved that Mican should not find them here, if and when he did come.
In caring for her grandfather, Bradana seemed to have forgotten that. If they were caught here, it could well mean the destruction of the settlement.
“Bradana, love,” he told her truthfully, “I would like naught better than to handfast wi’ ye.”
Before he could finish what he meant to say, she rushed on, “And for Grandfather to witness it before—While he is still with us, aye? To be joined here among family is all I could ask.”
Aye, then she would have all she could ask. All he could provide. If Mican came with a horde of men after, well, he would worry about that then.
He leaned in and kissed her. “Handfasted we shall be. Ye know my heart already belongs to ye.”
*
Rohracht MacFee’s emergencefrom his sick room turned into a grand event. Adair gathered that the clan had not enjoyed many of those of late, and everyone from the highest to the lowest threw their hearts into it.
Adair himself helped the men arrange the hall—as of old, they told him—with the chief’s grand chair at its head. The room was swept and new herbs spread. Flowers were brought by giggling young girls.
Morag and Bradana prepared the chief. Bradana had dressed for the occasion and wove flowers through her hair.
Adair waited, kicking his heels, for the old man to be brought in, wondering what he’d think of Rohracht, and what Bradana’s grandsire would think of him.
It took an age. Indeed, everyone waiting together in the great hall began to eye one another uneasily, wondering whether the grand appearance would happen after all. When the chief did come, it was borne in the arms of two stout young clansmen who deposited him with all due care at the head of the room.
If Adair felt shocked by the man’s appearance, he strove mightily to keep from showing it. Rohracht had the frame of a big man, now wasted, a crop of white hair and fierce blue eyes in a face lined by pain. His voice sounded reedy when he spoke to his people, clustered around him.
“Well, this has been a long time coming, has it no’? As all o’ ye ken, I ha’ been laid low by illness and grief since the death o’ my son and grandson. But since the coming o’ my granddaughter”—he reached out and seized Bradana’s hand, for she stood close by his chair—“I ha’ been growing stronger. Her presence has done me a world o’ good.”
Tears ran down Morag’s face, and the rest of Rohracht’s listeners were visibly affected. The old man’s gaze roved the room, touching on many a face fondly before it settled upon Adair.
“Granddaughter, is this your young man? Bring him to me.”
Bradana ran to Adair and caught him by the hand, giving him a beseeching look. No need for it; Adair already brimmed with respect for the old man. He went forward and bent his head courteously.
“Chief MacFee.”
Rohracht took Adair’s measure, eying him from the top of his head down to his hide boots. “Adair MacMurtray, of ye I ha’ heard much. Indeed, my granddaughter has fair assailed my ears wi’ words o ye, so much I just had to get up from my bed and see ye for mysel’.”
“Master.” Adair met Rohracht’s gaze warily, wondering if he would see approval, calculation, or—worst of all—disappointment.
Rohracht smiled at him. “A fine, braw lad from Erin, so I see. Aye, well, we will no’ hold that against ye. Did no’ all o’ our ancestors once come from Erin? Wha’ d’ye think o’ my holding here, eh, lad?”
