Page 78 of The Outlaw's Bride
Always
ADAIRA HATED GOODBYES.
She knew it was cowardly, but she would have preferred to have stolen away under the cover of darkness than to have to bid her family farewell. Despite her happiness with Lachlann, and her excitement for their future together, she’d been dreading this moment.
Two weeks had passed since their wedding. Malcolm MacLeod had continued to remain at Duntulm, as had Rhona and Taran. Caitrin seemed pleased to have the company and now that she’d made peace with her father, Adaira was relieved too. However, they all knew the moment to say goodbye was looming.
The cool weather was setting in—Lachlann and Adaira needed to travel to the mainland before the first of the winter storms made the crossing treacherous. Adaira had put off naming their departure date, for she’d loved seeing her sisters again, spending long afternoons talking to them as they sewed, spun, or embroidered in Caitrin’s solar.
But now here they all were, standing upon the jetty on the shore to the north of Duntulm village. She couldn’t put off the inevitable any longer.
A brisk breeze blew in off the water, bringing with it a chill that drilled into Adaira’s bones. They’d delayed longer than they should have. Beside her, Lachlann cast Adaira a smile.
“The boat’s ready, Aingeal. It’s time to go.”
Adaira nodded, turning to the four figures standing behind her: Caitrin, Rhona, Taran, and Malcolm MacLeod. Her step-mother hung back, deliberately keeping her distance. Relations had been cool between Una and her step-daughters during the past two weeks. Adaira would shed no tears over leaving Una behind.
Caitrin was weeping as she stepped forward and threw her arms around Adaira. “I’ll miss ye.”
Adaira hugged her back, squeezing her eyes shut as tears leaked out. There wasn’t any point trying to stem them. It would only make saying goodbye harder. “Once we’re settled, come visit us.”
“I will,” Caitrin replied, her voice husky. “I promise.”
Caitrin stepped back, not bothering to wipe her wet cheeks. Even upset, there was a dignity to her sister, a regalness that Adaira knewshe’dnever possess. Caitrin could rule Duntulm as well as any man could.
“Take care, lass.” Taran stepped forward and embraced her. The gruffness in his voice belied the warmth in his eyes. His gaze shifted to Lachlann. A look passed between the two men. Adaira had been surprised to discover that they’d become friends of late. They’d taken to sparring every morning in the practice yard and had gone out hunting together two days earlier. “Ye too, Fraser.”
Lachlann nodded before smiling. “Keep working on yer feints. Ye often go to the left and give yerself away.”
Taran snorted. “And ye are overconfident to a fault. I’d watch that.”
Lachlann laughed.
Rhona choked back a sob as she threw her arms around Adaira. “What will I do without ye?” The two of them had spent so much time together over the past fortnight that it had felt as if they’d gone back in time, to the days when neither had been wedded, to when their lives had followed the same path. But those days were gone now; this short period together had been a blessing—one that would always come to an end.
“Ye will be fine,” Adaira whispered back. “I’m a nuisance anyway. I prattle too much and get on yer nerves.”
“I’ll never complain about yer prattling again … I promise.” Rhona pulled away and scrubbed at her tears. Her cheeks had gone blotchy, and her eyes were red-rimmed, yet she was still beautiful.
“Ye will visit me too?” Adaira asked, her gaze flicking between Rhona and Taran.
Taran nodded. “As soon as we can.”
Heaving a deep breath, Adaira turned to the last person who waited to say goodbye to her.
Malcolm MacLeod had stood quietly, awaiting his turn. He watched Adaira, his grey eyes gleaming.
“Goodbye, Da,” Adaira said softly. “I’ll miss ye too.”
His throat bobbed. “Will ye, lass?”
“Aye.” Adaira stepped close. She meant it too. They’d been through much of late, and there had been times when she’d hated her father. But all that was behind them now. Since their wedding day, MacLeod had slowly thawed toward Lachlann, to the point where he could now look at him without glowering. However, when she looked into her father’s eyes now, all Adaira could see was love.
“Thank ye for sending word to Gylen Castle,” she whispered. “Yer blessing means a lot to me.” She stepped close to her father then and threw her arms about him. His girth made him difficult to embrace, and for a moment MacLeod just stood there, stone still. Adaira was about to pull-back, disappointed that he had not responded, when his arms went about her and squeezed tight.
“Ye are a good girl,” he rumbled, his voice thick with emotion. “Ye have yer mother’s pure spirit and soft heart. She’d be proud to see ye now.”
Adaira swallowed as more tears flowed, burning down her cheeks. Her father had never before said such a thing. He had no idea what his words meant to her.
