“Morag loves Grandfather so much, but she will lose him. In battle, if Mican returns. Or when he loses the other battle he fights. ’Tis…’tis unbearable. Yet it must be borne.”
Very gently, Adair turned her face to his so their lips were only a breath apart. “Would ye, lass, rather not have had me at all than live fearing ye will lose me?”
“Nay.Nay.” She kissed him fiercely, with all her love and desperation behind it. She could taste his emotions flowing back at her, wide and deep as the ocean.
So much love.
“Not that,” she said when she broke the kiss and clutched him tight. She could hear his heart thundering. Life, to unite them. Such a fragile thread, yet so strong. “It terrifies me how much I love ye, Adair MacMurtray. But I would no’ give up what I’ve found in ye.”
They made love slowly and with devotion while Wen slept on the floor beside them. As Bradana loved her husband, she became more certain than ever what she had to do.
And when a messenger—Morag herself—came to fetch them, Bradana went hand in hand with Adair, her mind already made up.
The meeting took place in her grandfather’s chamber with the old man back in his bed, which Bradana took as a bad sign, even though it was a legitimate council of war.
Master Dabhor was there, as were other key members of the guard, who reported that Mican’s men had not been sighted.
“And we made a few forays out into the wood, scouting for them,” Dabhor said. “Not a glimpse.”
Rohracht grunted. “He must indeed have gone back to collect more men. That gives us some breathing room. But he will return.”
“He will attack,” Dabhor agreed, “and when he does, we maun be ready.”
“We shall be.” Rohracht sounded much stronger than he looked. “Alert the settlement. Arm all the men. Tell the women, children, and aged to be ready to flee when Mican’s army is sighted. They maun go to the hills and wait till the battle is o’er.” He looked at his wife. “That includes ye, Morag.”
Her brow furrowed. “If ye remain here, I do also.”
“To be sure, I will remain here. I mean to fight.” It should have seemed absurd, the old man marooned in the bed making such a declaration. It did not. Too fierce was he, and too determined.
Bradana felt a surge of pride. She came of such stock. Yet that pride came tinged with pity.
Gently, the chief said, “Our men will fight all the better if they do no’ need to worry for the safety o’ their families. That includes me.”
Two tears rolled down Morag’s cheeks.
Rohracht looked at Bradana. “And ye. I would like ye to go wi’ the women—to head the group o’ them and shepherd them if ye will.”
Bradana shifted on her feet. “I am sorry, Grandfather, I cannot.”
“Now, now, I know ye will want to stay and fight beside yer man. Ye and that fine hound o’ yours both. But I need ye elsewhere.”
Bradana drew a breath. She could feel Adair watching her, feel all of them. He had bidden her to not sacrifice herself again.
This time, though, she would need to sacrifice something she loved—near as much as him.
“I believe if Mican comes wi’ his army, he will come for but one reason. Grandfather, he has no real quarrel wi’ ye. Wi’ your people. It is only because Adair and I are here that he brings strife to ye.”
“That is no’ true,” Rohracht declared. “We ha’ battled the man in the past to hold our land. Did his son no’ kill yer cousin in just such a battle?”
“Aye, but now he comes for revenge. ’Tis my being here, and Adair, that has brought him.”
“Bradana…” Adair began.
She ignored him. Tears flooded her eyes. “I canna stand and see this place ye love destroyed, Grandfather, because o’ me.”
“Who says it will be destroyed? Ha’ ye so little faith in me, Bradana?”
“I do have faith in ye.” At that moment, Bradana overflowed with faith in the old man’s courage. But the fear stemmed from a place so deep, she could not gainsay it.
