Arran’s hands flexed before he answered. “A wee problem. We can come to an arrangement about meeting my needs, if it comes to that. But if your family decides she must wed to fix this situation or if she feels she canna love but must marry because of family obligation, I will step up.”
“And have a loveless marriage?” Maddock insisted with a shake of his head.
“There are worse things, like a dead father, a missing beloved, or a life of loneliness. Who will marry her if no’ me? And unlike any other man, I understand and respect her wishes.”
Maddock was frozen where he stood, realizing how horribly perceptive Arran was.
“Arran, are ye lonely?”
Arran shook his head. “Nay the now, but time is taking me along for the ride, and what have I established in my life so far? My greatest fortune has been making a friend out of your sorry arse and aligning with your kin. If I can return that gift by helping your family and your sister, ‘tis the least I can do.”
Maddock breached the dusty stable air and clasped Arran on the shoulder.
“Weel, I canna say nay. ‘Twill help our family and the MacDonald cause, to be sure, even it if means the end of joy for ye. And ‘twill put an end to the wolves snapping at the gate. Come, let’s find Reade and then inform Father.”
A problem like Adaira.
Seamus hung his head in his hands.
What was he going to do with her?
She did not want to wed again – she had made that abundantly clear the night before when he had broached the topic with her.
It had been over a month, her mourning should have been over, and now ‘twas time to find a match for her. Preferably one that might unify clans and contribute to a united front against the pretender king and the fecking Campbells that continued to plague the MacDonalds like diseased rats.
No letter, no news from King James, and now he had the problem of Adaira.
In her present state, pale and withdrawn, what man would offer to wed his lass? And even if he did, Sorcha had pointed out another complicating factor – that Adaira did not want to wed. The prospect of giving her heart to another made his dear daughter blanch paler than she already was.
So if a man did offer for her, it would mean committing to a marriage with a woman who might not love him anytime soon, if at all.
Seamus believed that time healed all wounds, including Adaira’s heart, but he also knew that the lass was as willful as her mother. She could be stubborn when it came to even trying to care about a possible husband.
No matter what issues a potential suitor might face, Seamus had another, more personal reason for wanting to have his daughter wed as soon as possible.
Like his sons, he too had heard the rude, offensive comments about his daughter’s reputation, and by God he was not going to let those rumors reach her ears on top of everything else she was trying to overcome.
Nay. The sooner he found the lass a husband, the better.
A hard knock at his study door interrupted his thoughts. Believing the visitor to be Sorcha, he called outEnterwithout lifting his eyes.
Instead of his wife, Reade and Maddock stepped into the study, with Mad’s friend Arran right behind. The burly man appeared cleaner and more well-kept than Seamus had seen the man, ever.
Seamus read the situation with ease. Something was amiss, and Arran played a role in whateverthiswas.
“Hello, my lads. To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”
His chest clenched slightly when the three men standing in front of his desk shared a look, then returned their attention to Seamus.
What now?
Maddock, an easy, disarming smile splitting his face, spoke first.
“We have an idea, Father. One that might help solve your, uh, issue with Adaira.”
Seamus did not answer right away. He ran his tongue over his teeth and pondered Maddock’s statement. Issue with Adaira? Did he mean finding Sawny? Or his sister’s distress? The rumors swirling? Or something else altogether?
And why was Arran so neat-looking?
