She glanced at his wife, Blair, whose face was tight at his curse. She also knew how hardheaded her husband could be.
Something in Adaira pulled in her chest, drawing her gaze to Arran. His focus moved around the room, as if assessing the damage and what the MacDonalds were considering to do in return. His deep hazel gaze caught hers.
In that moment, she knew.
The fragility of life and the demands of Highland politics were not going to wait on the romantic whims of a lass.
That realization struck her chest like a hard wind, and she rocked back on her heels.
As much as she did not feel it was right and as much as it was not fair to Arran, his offer of marriage seemed like the best option.
Better to be with a man who understood her and would not demand her love or her body, than to be with, well,anyone elsewho would.
But now was not the time to discuss that matter. She dropped her gaze.
“What should we do about this recent development?” one of the men asked Ranulf and Seamus.
They shared a look.
“I think we need to inform Glen Coe and Glengarry. ‘Tis a new issue, if they plan on putting the pressure on us to sign before we hear from James or the end of the year. ‘Tis no’ what was agreed to.”
Ranulf nodded, and their low chatter and the groan of the men fell into the background as Adaira moved toward the stairwell.
She had intentions of returning to her rooms, but she was awake and her mother would need help cleaning the linens later.
Instead, she retreated out the kitchen door to the garden. The stone bench was damp when she sat on it, and the dew seeped through her skirts and chilled her skin.
She needed that coolness. Her body was overly hot, thinking about what was required of her and Arran’s offer.
The kitchen door opened and Arran stepped onto the flagstones.
“I saw ye leave. I thought ye might have something on your mind.”
She flapped her head toward the door. “With everything Ranulf has shared, how could I not?”
“Are ye well? Would ye prefer to be alone?”
A tight smile pulled at her lips. He was so considerate. How had she missed how considerate he was?
Because he was with Maddock most of the time. Consideration was not necessarily part of Maddock’s wheelhouse.
Adaira scooted over and patted the stone bench. Sweeping his plaid around his thighs, Arran settled on the bench next to her. Not touching her, but close enough to make her skin feel hot again. She took a deep breath. Best to just get it out.
“Uncle Ranulf, his words, and what happened to him, has given me thoughts regarding your offer.”
Arran stiffened. “And what are your thoughts?”
“Life is precarious,” she said and did her best to keep her eyes on his face. This would take a measure of bravery, and Arran’s sacrifice deserved her full attention. “’Tis fragile, and no’ going to wait on my inconsequential whims.”
“I hardly believe your marriage is inconsequential,” Arran interrupted.
She gave him another tight smile. “Regardless, ye are willing to sacrifice much for our clan, and as a MacDonald daughter, I canna do any less. If ye are willing to live without love, I will wed ye.”
“One day, your heart may heal. Time heals us all, in our own way. I will accept whatever ye can give.”
He lightly grasped her hand and lifted it to his lips.
A chaste, simple kiss. A respectful kiss.
