His lips tightened, yet he did not argue. Instead, the darkness in his face fled and he held his elbow out to her.
“As ye command. Come, I’ll escort ye home.”
After they mounted their horses and started on the path toward home, he spoke again.
“May I inquire as to what the wayfarer said?”
Adaira flicked her gaze over to the man riding next to her. She had known him most of her life it seemed, and Arran had always been a person she could rely on. He had lost someone, too, she recalled, his father. Reade handled the loss of his dear cousin with anger, while Arran seemed to have come to terms with his loss. Adaira did not feel angry over Sawny’s disappearance, she just felt sad. Arran of all people at Glenachulish might understand her sense of loss.
“The woman, she read my palm, so most of what she said was probably practiced.”
Arran nodded and moved his horse closer to hers as they conversed. “Aye, she has to make her living.”
“But she did say something that bothered me. I presume ye can tell.” She glanced at him again and he nodded silently. “She said my heart line is oddly split, and that meant ‘twas another path of love for me, or that my love will come back. I canna recall exactly.”
“I would no’ expect ye to recall exactly. I imagine her words took ye by surprise.”
Adaira nodded. “I paid her coin and left.”
“Her words make a wee bit of sense. Ye never know what the world holds.”
“She said close to the same.” She was quiet for a moment as they ambled along the dark path, the horse hooves clapping on the ground. “I worry that it means something more. I know Father has urgency with my marriage. Sawny was a smart choice because of his family. But I loved him. ‘Tis all that matters to me. Now I’ll be forced to wed another to continue aligning us in the Highlands, and I canna bring myself to even think of another man, let alone marry one!”
Arran kept his gaze straight ahead. From the corner of her eye, it looked like he was going to speak, then stopped himself. Adaira exhaled. Hearing her speak the words was like pushing a boulder off the crest of a hill, and all her emotions poured out at once. Her gown felt damp and clung to her skin.
“Maybe what she was talking about means ‘tis time I give up and realize that my life must go on, like everyone says.”
That statement, that harsh realization, was a knife in her heart, as if she were admitting that Sawny was indeed gone for good – either dead or had abandoned her completely. Either way, the result was the same.
Arran made a sound deep in his chest. She tilted her head toward him as they veered off toward Glenachulish Tower.
“Aye, but there’s naught wrong in doing all that on your time. No one can tell ye or your heart what’s best. Even if your father and brothers have different intentions. They may push, and ye may have to wed, but ye can mourn as long as it takes. No one but ye can dictate that.”
She thought about his words, shocked at his sagacity. Then it dawned on her, he had been through the same when he was but a lad. He had to manage his own sorrow over the loss of his father, and he had to do it without family and with strangers who fostered him. Of anyone, Arran knew the turmoil churning inside her. How wise he was to share his thoughts and validate her need for mourning.
“Thank ye for that. Ye have insight I had no’ considered, and I appreciate ye.” She chuckled under her breath. “I would no’ have thought a friend of Maddock’s to be so insightful.”
He grunted in response. Obviously, he did not care for her kind assessment of his character.
“Weel, dinna think too kindly of me,” he countered in a gruff voice. The tone was a bit peculiar and she narrowed her eyes at him.
“What? Did my father or brothers tell ye to be nice to me? To placate me with cushioned words?”
She was not upset if they had – she needed to hear what Arran had to say. The behind-her-back nature of it, however . . . that was another thing, something becoming far too common as of late.
Arran cleared his throat.
“Nay. In fact, I was the one who approached your brothers and father.”
About going to the festival and speaking with her? Why would he need approval for that?
“Ye dinna need their permission to speak with me.”
“Nay, but I did need it to ask if I might wed ye.”
Adaira yanked on her mare’s reins, making the beast recoil and lift her front hooves off the ground briefly. As Adaira clutched the reins to hold on, Arran calmly reached over and slipped his fingers through the leather bridle, restraining the horse.
“What did ye say?” she asked, wiping her disheveled hair off her face. Now that the beast was under control, she could focus on the asinine statement Arran had made.
