Dodging his grasp, she did not flee so much as sweep away from him. She could see Adair standing halfway down the hall. Waiting for her, so she thought. He was all the goal she needed.
But when she reached him, standing so tall and silent, he stepped out not to join her, but to block Earrach’s way.
“Let her go,” he said to Earrach. “It is done.”
“It is not. Out o’ my way!”
“Bradana, go.” Adair glanced at her over his shoulder. But she could not take another step. The blood drained from her face as she realized she might not have saved him after all. They could still come to blows.
And she would sell herself ten times over for the sake of this man.
Her vision sharpened, and she saw every separate occurrence, each movement. The snarl on Earrach’s lips and the danger in his eyes. Adair’s hand resting upon the hilt of his sword.
She seized Adair’s arm and attempted to tow him away with her. “Come, please.”
He gave her one searing glance from glowing gray-green eyes. The people occupying the rear of the hall fell away from them as they moved, opening the path to the doors.
Earrach followed.
Bradana could feel him like a dark wind, a distinct threat. She could feel his every footstep.
They were in the clear out in front of the hall before Adair pulled her to a halt. The day—so beautiful earlier on—had clouded over, and Bradana thought,To be sure, Alba knows. This very place shares the trouble gathered round me.
“Adair, by the gods, please—”
She had time for no more before Adair turned and faced the other man.
For an instant, Bradana saw the two of them with painful clarity—Earrach standing like a bear, large and poised to maul and tear; Adair balanced lightly on the balls of his feet, that gleam of red in his brown hair. The moment would be burned into her mind forever.
“Leave her be,” Adair told Earrach. “She has spoken her refusal. Take it like a man.”
“Out o’ my way,” Earrach growled. “This is between the woman and me.”
Adair stepped in front of Bradana. “Iam between the woman and ye.”
Fury blazed in Earrach’s eyes. “She has made a promise. She will keep it and wed wi’ me this day. Unless her father wishes war instead of peace.”
“She has made a free choice,” Adair answered. “Leave it be.”
For an instant, one glorious instant, Bradana thought that would be an end to it. She could almost see Earrach falling back, she and Adair walking away. What would happen next, she could not tell. No violence.
Then Earrach reached for her, another vicious snatch aimed at her arm.
Adair drew his sword.
People were by now pouring from the hall. Not Kendrick. Where was he? Mayhap he could stop this thing.
But nay, naught could stop it, for Earrach’s sword came swiftly to his hand, and violence shone in his eyes.
Adair pushed Bradana aside, not too gently.
“Nay,” she cried, and flung herself back at him. “Nay!” This, she did not want. This, above all things. “’Tis decided. I have chosen—”
Earrach threw her a disparaging look. “I know not who this upstart thinks he is. But if he chooses to die for your lack o’ honor, mistress, I am willing to kill him.”
Lack of honor? Because she chose to claim her own life? That thought was swallowed by bright terror for Adair. Should he fall—should he fall because of her…
She must do something to stop this. Above all things.
