“I did not.” Though indeed, Forba might have wished to become that. “I was seeing her, but there was naught in it.”
“Good thing I am no’ a jealous woman.” She reconsidered that. “I neverwasa jealous woman.”
“Ye ha’ no reason, Bradana. None at all.”
Serious now, all the teasing flown, their eyes met. She caught her breath. “Well enough.”
“Make a song for me,” he challenged her in another effort to keep things light. “A planxty. ’Tis what the best of the shanachies do.”
“I am no’ a shanachie.”
“Ye play as well as any I’ve heard. And the songs ye make…” He had no words for them.
She gave him a long look. “I will have to give that some thought. I am no’ at all convinced I could express my gratitude for ye, or that mere music could capture all ye are to me.”
“Your music might. So, what am I to ye, then?” He should not ask. That was dangerous ground.
“Och—quick and bright. Witty and charming. With the soft green o’ the hills at the heart. ’Tis in your eyes, that green.”
He sobered instantly. “To be fair, I am no’ sure I could capture all ye are either, in words or song. What ye are to me.”
“Well then. Give me some time and I will work at it.”
But they had not much time. The days passed swiftly. One morning Bradana came to him and said, “I will ha’ to absent mysel’ from ye this afternoon.”
“Why?” He lived for each moment she spent with him.
“My mother insists upon it.” She avoided his gaze. “Earrach arrives in two days’ time.”
Earrach. The man she was to wed.
“Mother wishes to fuss over me,” Bradana hurried on before Adair, appalled, could speak. “She has had her women making me not only one but twa fine new gowns. She mentioned something about my hair—”
“I love your hair.” He should not say so, which was evidenced by the expression in Bradana’s eyes when she looked at him. “’Tis perfect already.”
“Ah, but she insists I must look just so when my bridegroom arrives. She insists a man treats a woman better when he finds her beautiful. All her life, she has traded in beauty, ye see. And she wants for Earrach to treat me well.”
Dismay and anger hit Adair in a furious blow. He did not want Earrach anywhere near Bradana. Not for any reason.
“Bradana.” He caught her hand, forgetting all his intentions to keep from persuading her. “Leave here with me. We can sail tonight.”
That made her gaze at him long. Did she consider it?
“Ye cannot go off to live with Earrach.” He squeezed her fingers. “Ye cannot.”
“I know,” she whispered. “But ye can imagine the breech it would cause if I break wi’ this agreement.”
“I understand.” She was a strong, intelligent woman and he must let her make her own choice. Without the pressure of what he felt for her.
Whatdidhe feel for her?
He pondered that later when she was off preparing for her marriage. She’d left him the hound, and the two of them wended their way up the shore whence he had walked so often with Bradana. And he comprehended just what this place meant to her, for he could almost feel her there with him, sense her heartbeat in the thump of the waves and her voice in the cries of the gulls.
Could he ask her to give up what she was and go away with him? Could he forsake in turn the land of his birth, where he ached to return?
It did not matter, because Earrach was coming. Earrach, who would claim what should belong only to Adair.
What already did belong to him.
