Page 45 of Hunted By the Hard Highlander

Hendry paused, his mind struggling to comprehend what the boy could possibly mean. “Weevil…” he repeated under his breath. “Did ye mean weavin’?”

“Aye! Weavin’!” Adair nodded enthusiastically, his smile getting even wider. “She is learnin’ to weave.”

Hendry chuckled under his breath at the boy’s behavior. His excitement was refreshing. And Hendry remembered he did have a reason for speaking with Adair.

“Ye ken, I was actually hopin’ that I would find ye,” Hendry said, taking a few steps into the room.

“Ye were?” Adair asked, jumping up to his feet and scrambling over to the chairs near the hearth.

He was holding himself upright, presenting himself as if he were Hendry’s peer. So, in the interest of meeting the boy where he was, Hendry sat in the chair opposite him.

For a few beats, he said nothing, picking his words carefully. Then, Hendry said, “In only a few days, Castle Anderson will fill with visitors for the bindin’. Many people will come, and many questions will be asked.”

Adair nodded, seeming to sense the seriousness of the conversation they were having. He sat up, shifting closer to the edge of his seat. The intensity of his gaze was almost disarming.

“When people arrive, they will see ye as an Anderson,” Hendry said, holding the boy’s eyes. When the child absorbed the information, Hendry continued. “That is only yer name for a wee bit, for while ye are here growin’ into a man. Ye must never forget who ye truly are. Ye will always be Adair MacGonagal, and there is nay shame in that.”

“I ken,” Adair said, the boy speaking with a maturity that he must have been forced to adopt from the months he spent on the run with his sister. “I daenae feel shame in bein’ a MacGonagal. Me uncle may nae be a good man, but me father was. I am glad to have his name. I will make him proud.”

“I ken ye will,” Hendry said, marveling at the depth of Adair’s understanding. “Ye already make yer sister proud, and I am sure that yer father would be happy to see the kind of man ye are becomin’.”

“Ye really think so?” Adair asked, a spark of childlike grandeur taking hold of him.

“Aye, I do,” Hendry confirmed. He no longer tried to hide the smile that had been tugging at the corners of his mouth. “And I want ye to ken that one day, when ye are old enough, I will personally take ye home. We will ride back to yer father’s lands together, and rebuild everythin’ that has fallen, replace every stone where it belongs. Ye will become the Laird ye were born to be. Until that day comes, Clan Anderson will keep ye safe.”

For several long moments, Adair did not speak. The boy looked away from Hendry, staring into the crackling hearth. Hendry wondered if he had said too much, put too much on the child’s shoulders.

“Ye really would come with me when the day arrives?” Adair finally asked, his voice thick like he was trying to conceal the true depth of his emotion. He was trying to be a man, an adult, Hendry realized. “And ye will help me prepare what’s broken?”

“Aye, lad. I will be right beside ye,” Hendry said, standing up to kneel in front of him. He reached forward, ruffling the boy’s hair the same way he had seen Aurora do countless times before. “I daenae make promises that I cannae keep.”

“I ken that ye daenae,” Adair said, not pulling away. In fact, he seemed to lean into the contact, like he was pleased to be getting this kind of attention from Hendry. “Ye prove it to me and Aurora every day.”

Hendry’s breath caught in his chest. It was one thing to be cognizant of his behavior; it was another to hear that it was being seen. He cleared his throat, rising to his feet and glancing around the room to clear the overwhelming sensation. When he spoke again, his voice was carefully quiet and measured.

“Then I will need ye to promise me that ye will commit yerself to learnin’ everythin’ ye can, to gettin’ strong enough to protect yer people when things become difficult,” Hendry said, leveling the boy with a serious expression, treating him as an equal in the moment. “Clan Anderson needs strong allies.”

“I will do me part,” Adair promised, jumping up and giving Hendry a salute. “Ye will be able to rely on me just as ye rely on yer other allies. I am makin’ a vow to ye.”

“Then I will make one to ye as well,” Hendry said, meaning each word. “And I intend to keep it nay matter what.”

* * *

“Where are ye runnin’ off to?” Aurora asked, putting her hand on Adair’s shoulder as he tore through the corridor with a look of determination plastered on his face. “We just finished our breakfast. Daenae ye wish to come along with me on a walk through the gardens?”

Aurora felt so much more comfortable moving through the castle and exploring the grounds after her training session with Hendry the morning prior. She had even sat outside after the afternoon she had spent in the weaving room and did not feel as if she needed to look over her shoulder even once.

“I was goin’ to head to the library,” Adair said, twitching under her touch as if he could not keep his body still. “I wish to learn more about the history of the Highlands.”

She paused, tilting her head to the side. While Adair was always a reader, the boy had been excited about doing physical things. Sitting still was something he struggled with. Countless times she had to beg him to stay in place when they were in hiding.

Now, she was not sure how to process his declaration.

“I dinnae ken that ye had taken an interest in history,” she said, letting her hand drop to her side. “What has caught yer attention?”

“Laird Anderson spoke with me last evening,” Adair said, sounding proud. “And I wish to be a strong ally to him when I am Laird MacGonagal. I should ken more of the history of our land. And, if he is to be me ally, I should ken about the history of Clan Anderson as well.”

So many questions ran through Aurora’s mind, and she was desperate to know what Hendry had said to her brother. She felt like she needed to know how he had captured Adair’s interest so suddenly. What could he have possibly said to have her brother excited by the prospect of sorting through history texts.