“Mayhap ye shouldnae have had that experience as a husband for a lass like Auntie Siùsan.”
“Saoirse, ye dinna have to hurt them to defend me.” Óg kept his voice low.
“I willna have any of them be hypocrites aboot this. Ye think I dinna ken why our family handfasts before the kirking. Ye canna act the way ye do, then explain marriage as ye have with all of us, then think we dinna understand why none of ye waited to stand before a church. All of ye were impatient, and every mon in here had more experience than his bride. Except for Uncle Mòr and Auntie Deirdre, years more experience.”
“What did he do to ye that ye think ye can speak this way?” Brighde demanded.
“Óg didna do aught! Stop speaking as though Óg isnae here. Ye must have thought me an eejit without a thought of ma own if it surprises ye that I have them now.”
“Saoirse—”
“Nay. Dinna make excuses for them, Óg. I ken ye’re trying to keep the peace, and this is why I usually dinna speak up. I dinna like arguing, but this matters enough to me to stand up for maself.”
“I forbid it,” Alex growled.
A resolve came into Saoirse’s eyes that made everyone in the chamber realize that, not only did she have an iron will they didn’t expect, she would be more stubborn than they realized.
“Good thing ye have experience chasing runaway brides, Da. Ye might need to catch me one of these days. Dinna push too hard.”
“Enough.” Óg turned Saoirse to face him. “I wish to speak to Saoirse alone. Leave the door open and listen if ye want, but we dinna need anyone hovering.”
“Nay,” Alex snapped.
“Out.” No one could argue with Liam, so Óg and Saoirse waited until they were alone. He pulled out a chair at the oblong table in the center of the chamber. He waited until she sat before turning a chair toward her and taking her hands in his.
“Saoirse, throwing past mistakes back in yer family’s face isnae going to move them to our side. I understand ye’re hurt and frustrated. I am too. But this isnae the way to go aboot it. I’m nae backing down, and I’m nae walking away, so dinna think for a moment I’ll give up without a fight. I just dinna want ye to leave with me one day and feel like ye can never come back. I dinna want us to ruin our relationships with our family. I didna understand how important family is until I lived here.Familia prima.”
“Semper familia.”
Family first. Always family. It was the laird’s family motto. It was what the Sinclairs lived and breathed by. It was what made them undefeatable on the battlefield and what made them an indivisible family.
“Give them time, and while we wait, we dinna do aught to make them uncomfortable.”
“Are ye so wise since ye’re ancient?”
“Mayhap. I told ye, I willna give up. I willna give in either. We have a lifetime ahead of us together. It doesnae matter if it takes a while to convince everyone else.”
“We could handfast.” Saoirse laughed, only partly serious. She could imagine how agitated that idea must make everyone eavesdropping in the passageway.
“Let’s be sure we suit first. Mayhap ye’ll realize they’re right, and I am nae the right choice for ye.”
Saoirse’s gaze rested on his lips before darting up to his blue-hazel eyes. She mouthed, “Ye are.”
Magnus willed his rod to ignore Saoirse’s implications. Holding her hands was enough to bring it to life. Any implication that she wished to kiss him again was enough to make him as hard as a post. He squeezed her hands before he rose. Once he pushed their chairs in, he took a place beside the fireplace.
“We’re done talking.” He knew the others heard the entire conversation, but he would announce it without asking them to return. Everyone but Brighde and Alex appeared mollified by what they heard. Saoirse’s parents looked no more convinced than they had before they waited in the passageway. He’d hope Brighde might be on their side. He should have known she would react the same way as Alex. They were too in sync after so many years of marriage not to agree that they disagreed with their daughter’s choice. He steeled himself for an uphill battle. He just hoped it wouldn’t be a war of attrition.
CHAPTER8
“It’s just as well that ye get away from the keep for a few days.” Thormud rode beside Magnus as they left the keep for their sennight-long hunting party. Tate, Kirk, Torquil, and Wiley, who was Ceit and Tavish’s other son, accompanied them. Wiley and Torquil were the same age, and three years younger than Tate and Kirk. Magnus realized Saoirse was older than all but Thormud. Tate and Kirk were a year her junior. Even Blake, who’d married nearly a year ago, was two years younger than Saoirse. She was only a couple months younger than Thormud, and he’d been training to be Callum’s heir for years. Once Callum became laird, he would be tánaiste.
Everyone trusted these young men to take part in leading the clan and to provide for them. No one complained that, at twenty-years-old, Blake was too young to marry. No one had even objected that Saoirse was too young. It was all about the gap in their ages.
“Why do ye think our ages bother them so much? I’m nae auld enough to be her father. Some siblings are that far apart in age.”
“She’s always been one of the quietest of the cousins. Mayhap it makes her seem younger to them than she is. Mayhap they canna reconcile kenning how long ago it was that ye left here a young mon with Saoirse being auld enough to choose ye as a husband.”
“Is there nay hope of them coming around?”
