Seamus bolted upright, fury giving way to interest. “What?”
Like Reade, Seamus had the irritating presumption the lad had changed his mind at the last minute and his family was aiding him in his endeavor.
But the lad was well and truly missing? Though he did not fully believe, the fact his family was searching for him meant they were not in on Sawny’s deception.
“We met his brother Brodie and cousin Roy. They were searching for him as well.”
“They dinna know where he is? At all? Do they know where he ran off? Or disappeared from?” Seamus asked.
Conall shook his head. “Nay. From what Roy told us, Sawny rode off early on the morning of the wedding and never returned. They found his horse near the loch where he likes to bathe.”
Seamus exhaled hard. “He does no’ have his horse, so how far could he have gone? Ye did no’ find a body?”
He was now speaking in terms of the lad being dead. If he had absconded, surely he would have ridden away on his horse? Or was leaving the horse merely a diversion?
The men shook their heads.
In truth, Seamus did no’ care if the lad was dead or had run away. He was gone, and now the Glen Coe MacDonalds had a mess to clean up.
“Since ye have started on this endeavor against my wishes, ye will want to continue. We should keep looking for the lecher to rectify the shame he’s brought on Adaira, but we have larger issues to deal with. The fault of this situation lies with the Keppoch lad and the Keppoch’s themselves. Dinna blame your sister or make her feel worse about all this. Though your sister is crushed, she is a comely lass from a respectable and powerful family and will find another match, perchance even a love match. Let her mourn, but we have more significant issues in searching for the letter. Let us hunt for that.”
As much as he hated the words as they left his lips, Seamus had to keep their more significant problems in mind. Strife and conflict were rife in the Highlands. If they needed to make another match for an alliance or in support of King James, then he’d make a match with Adaira.
His sons did not appear to agree. They grumbled but understood their father’s intent. Seamus took a deep breath before continuing.
“I will send word to the Keppochs that they should make good on this complication with Adaira’s dowry, but that we are no’ going to search too hard for their wayward son. ’Tis their dominion. Right now, we focus on consoling Adaira, supporting her, and finding that letter. We still have to figure out where that letter is.” His face then darkened enough to make the most staunch warrior quiver in their boots. “But if the lad does show his face in these lands again, bring him to me, for I shall slay him myself.”
His gaze bounced from one face to the next. “Dismissed.”
A fortnight later --
Sawny was still nowhere to be found. While the Keppoch MacDonalds had not given up on searching for the man, most clans in the Highlands presumed him dead or drinking and whoring in France with the abdicated king.
Including the Glen Coe MacDonalds and Adaira’s family at Glenachulish Tower.
Despite her father’s admonitions to focus on the letter and let the concerns of Sawny’s absence fall to the wayside, Adaira’s brothers had continued in their searching. They did it mostly for her bruised heart, but also to take their pound of flesh from Sawny’s hide for the shame he brought on their clan.
Adaira knew she should feel grateful for having such loyal and attentive brothers, but she felt nothing.
Nothing.
She had taken to spending most of her day in her chambers, in her bed to be more precise, with curtains and tapestries drawn over the lead glass windows to keep her chambers shrouded in darkness.
A darkness that permeated every corner of her life.
She had not changed her chemise since her mother had put her to bed. It was the same one she had worn on her fateful wedding day for a wedding that did not happen. To Adaira, it seemed right that this chemise that was supposed to be part of her most wonderful day was now as stained and rancidly foul as she felt.
She curled up in her bed in the ripe, stinky kirtle, but she was not crying.
Her mind and her body wanted to cry. All she had done for the past week was sob into her pillows. Yet today, nothing was left. She had nothing at all left inside, like she had been scraped empty, as if Sawny’s absence was a knife that had ripped away all of her inner being until there was nothing left but the shell.
She was empty inside. Sawny had taken her heart and everything else that made her Adaira with him when he left.
Did he know? Did he realize the pain and misery he was subjecting her to, wherever he was?
That was the one thing that she kept coming back to in her dismal thoughts. That the Sawny she knew and loved would not abuse her this way. He was not the villain everyone painted him.
Was he?
