“Ye are fighting an uphill battle even ye know ye canna win. Let the lad pursue her.”
They had then spent the last year escaping over-protective eyes and in each other’s arms. Her first time with Sawny had been behind the barns, on a pile of soft hay covered by a brushed plaid, and he had taken his time, making sure she enjoyed as much of the moment as he. Then he had held her under the stars and offered to ride up to the sky and steal a star for her if she wished.
“Anything ye wish,” he had said, staring deep into her eyes. ‘Twas what he always said.
Adaira smiled to herself at the memory. Anything she wished.
And thus far, he had more than delivered. She did not need stars, though. Sawny was everything she wished for.
And for the past year, Sawny had done exactly that, pursuing her with a focus and intensity she had never before seen with any man. Now, less than a fortnight until they wed, Adaira was unable to set her mind on anything else.
As Adaira stabbed the final, contrary pin into place (why was pinning up her hair so difficult? It slid out of the pins at the least movement of air!), one of the house servants, Grace, knocked lightly at the door before peeking her face around the edge.
“’Allo, Adaira! Might I help ye dress?”
“Aye, Grace, and in a thrice if ye would!”
Grace grinned as she closed the door behind her. She, like everyone else in the keep, knew how strong and passionate the bond was between Adaira and Sawny, and she did not blame the lass for wanting to hurry downstairs to the main hall where her beloved awaited.
Adaira and Sawny were like a Highland fairy tale to the MacDonalds.
Adaira lifted her skirts as she swept down the stairs with Grace, keeping her hemline free from her feet, lest she tumble down the stairs. She had done that once as a child as she chased Reade and Maddock, and after her brothers finished laughing at her contorted state, they helped her to her feet, wiped her tears, and never let her forget her clumsy nature.
Clumsy.Ha! She had not tumbled down a single stair since. She would not give her brothers the pleasure of laughing at her again.
So they found other ways to tease her.
Holding on to the curved stone wall as she rounded the base, Adaira rushed through the archway into the main hall and searched.
He barely lifted his head to have his dusky eyes meet hers, catching her attention from under lowered lids. Like a loch at sunset, deep and intense, Sawny’s gaze captured hers from across the hall, as if she was the only person he saw amongst the throng.
Adaira knew one thing for certain – Sawny was all she saw.
“About time ye joined us, lass,” a voice spoke from her side. Reluctantly tearing her eyes from Sawny’s enchanting gaze, she turned her head up to Reade who stood stiffly with his arms crossed over his chest.
He was always stiff and on edge. At least when his wife, Blair, was not around. Then he turned to pudding.
But right now, Blair was nowhere to be seen and Reade’s grumpy frown was fixed on the same thing her eyes had been.
Sawny.
Reade detested the rogue Keppoch MacDonald, as he did most Keppochs.
“Ye dinna have to use pins to keep your hair up,” she commented dryly. “Thus, ye dinna have standing to criticize my tardiness.”
Reade turned his head slightly to peer down at his little sister, as one light brown eyebrow rose on his forehead. A familiar expression. “Och, perchance if ye spent less time running off with your intended, ye’d have the time.”
Adaira’s lips thinned at his statement. Theyhadbeen seen. So much for secrecy.
“Dinna tease your sister.” The voice of an angel came to her rescue. Adaira looked around Reade’s thick chest to find his stunning, red-haired wife on his other side. Blair slipped her arm through Reade’s and his stiff stance relaxed immediately. As she had thought – pudding. “They have good reason to hide away. They are to be wed in a fortnight.”
Hearing the words spoken aloud made Adaira’s heart flutter.A fortnight, and she would be married to Sawny.
That day could not come soon enough.
Reade and Blair walked Adaira to Sawny’s side, and he stood, pulling out a chair for her with a bow. Blair smiled at the gesture, but Reade glared at the poor lad until they were both seated. Only then was Blair able to drag Reade away.
Sawny’s hand, made rough from years of horsemanship, reached under the table and clasped hers in his warm grasp. She noticed he had a driving need to touch her no matter where they were or what they were doing – his hand on her back, holding her elbow, her arm threaded through his, or holding her hand out of sight as they did now.
