“There’s always hope.” Torquil nudged his horse forward to ride alongside Magnus’s left while Thormud remained to his right. “It wouldnae be a Sinclair marriage if it were easy.”
“That doesnae reassure me.”
“I merely mean that the Sinclairs fight for the ones they love, and they arenae deterred when things arenae easy from the start.” Torquil shrugged.
“I shall remind ye of that when yer turn comes. Let’s see how eager ye are for whatever battle lies ahead for ye.” Magnus sighed. He wondered what Saoirse did that day. They’d had no opportunity to talk that morning. For the sake of appearances, they’d only danced together last night when changing partners put them together. People watched them, and he knew they whispered. But no one was as blatant as when they’d arrived in the bailey.
Magnus was lost in thought for the next three hours before they reached their first camping spot. The six men jested as they fished for their evening meal. Wiley and Torquil entered a friendly grappling match, and both wound up in the river. By the time they settled for the night, Magnus’s heart felt lighter, but he wondered how Saoirse fared.
“Stop whittling, Óg.” Thormud moved his bedroll next to Magnus’s after setting up the night watch. He lifted his sword from his back and laid it next to his right arm before drawing the extra length of plaid over his shoulders and head. “They willna do aught to her.”
“I didna think they would. I was wondering aboot her day.”
“I can tell ye aboot that.”
Magnus cocked an eyebrow. He hadn’t been at Dunbeath long enough to know Saoirse’s routines. They’d spent as much time together as they could, but he doubted she usually hid in her workroom for as many hours as they had. He realized he wanted to know exactly how she spent her day. He wanted her to share how it went, who she helped. He hoped they would one day sit before a fire in their own croft or lie beside each other in their bed. He wanted to ask her questions and listen to her answers, so she knew he valued her.
“She will have gone into the village to visit anyone who’s ailed in the past moon. She’ll have checked on the elderly to ensure they’re eating and keeping well. She will have spent some time with the children, telling them stories aboot which berries or toadstools they canna eat. She’ll have come back for the midday meal, then Auntie Brighde would have sent her to help wherever they needed her in the keep. In the late afternoon, she probably went with Albert to pick medicinals.”
“Is that what she does every day?”
“Mostly, unless someone is ailing or giving birth. Then she’ll tend them as long as they need her. How do ye nay ken this?”
“I’ve clearly interrupted her routine.”
Magnus had so many more questions, but he wanted to ask Saoirse, not learn about her from her cousin. But he wondered if he would have the opportunity to speak to her. Alex and Brighde made it clear they wanted them apart. Magnus didn’t relish the idea of causing strife with the Sinclairs. Doubt nipped at him, making him wonder if pursuing Saoirse was worth the risk of alienating himself. But the more he thought about it, the more convinced he became that he would risk everything short of endangering his clan to see if they suited.
“Ye didna hear me, did ye?”
Magnus turned to Thormud, realizing he’d forgotten the younger man was still talking. “I’m sorry. I didna.”
“Saoirse is the first of the lasses to wish to wed. Nay one kens what to do. Yer age difference complicates things, but I suspect ye wouldnae have an easy time, even if ye were closer in age. If ye dinna have to rush home, then give it time. Remind everyone of the mon they ken ye to be. Let them see they couldnae ask for better mon than ye for any of the lasses.”
“Thank ye.” Magnus smiled for the first time in what seemed like an eternity, but the last time was only the day before in the cave. He wondered if Thormud’s advice would make the week move any faster. He doubted it, but he told himself it would.
* * *
“Mama, why is Magnus’s age such an issue? Do ye think he would toy with me, then walk away? That would speak to his character, nae his age.”
“Ye’re a lass. A mon that age has nae business looking in such a young woman’s direction.”
“Blake’s younger than I am, and he’s married.”
“And Cerys is close to his age.”
“But ye said I’m such a young woman. I’m aulder than him. I’m a year younger than Wee Liam, and he’s married. Nay one said he was too young. Wouldnae it be better if someone in the marriage had some wisdom and had learned the way of the world? Laird Campbell is more than a decade aulder than Lady Campbell, and Dominic is aulder than Lady Emelie.”
“They arenae our family.” Brighde snapped.
Saoirse couldn’t understand why her parents were so adamantly opposed to Magnus. They’d relented over the past four days, saying that he was family, but not exactly. They admitted that the lack of blood relation between Saoirse and him meant the argument about familial ties was moot. But they hadn’t capitulated about their ages.
“How auld should the mon I marry be?”
Brighde stared at her daughter. She knew Magnus’s age was a sliver of her objection, but she didn’t wish to voice aloud the deeper reason—that she couldn’t imagine her daughter moving away from Dunbeath, that they would go many moons between seeing each other. She’d assumed Saoirse and her other daughters would marry Sinclair clansmen and live near their family. It pained her to imagine not seeing Saoirse every day. But she didn’t dare say that since it was far too smothering, so she clung to the age argument.
“Younger than Óg. He shouldnae be nearly auld enough to be yer da.”
“I canna think of any mon who was two-and-ten when he became a father. Óg is nay where near auld enough to be ma father. An aulder brother, aye. Da, nay.”
