Why, the clan wondered. Why would Adaira choose him?

Why, indeed, Jack mused wryly as he was ushered into the hall to wait for Adaira. He sat at one of the dusty tables, thrumming his fingers on the wood, lost in contemplation.

He was still in shock that she had asked him to marry her, and that he had told her yes. He was beginning to realize more and more that he couldn’t return to the mainland. Not when his mother was ill and he had a little sister and Adaira wanted him and the isle had embraced him despite all his years away. Not when he had played for the spirits of the sea.

He had changed, and he looked at his hands, now dirty from repairing the byre. He would have never attempted to rethatch a roof, or shovel manure, or reset stone walls in his academic life. His hands were his livelihood as a harpist—as vain as it sounded, he couldn’t afford to break a nail—and yet he was pleased to know they had also made repairs on the byre. His hands could offer more to others than he had once thought or even wanted to give.

“Have you come to tell me you’ve changed your mind, bard?”

Adaira’s voice was like a hook, reeling in his attention. Jack stood and turned to behold her standing in the aisle. Her hair was tamed into a braided crown that day. A moon thistle was tucked behind her ear like a rose, and there were faint smudges beneath her eyes. It was apparent she hadn’t slept much either, Jack thought, admiring the crimson embroidery on her dress.

“My mind is unchanged, although I did wonder if I dreamt of you last night,” he said, meeting her gaze. He was caught off guard by the defensive light that flickered within her, like moonlight on a steel blade. She had expected him to change his mind and disappoint her. Jack let the affront rise in him for a moment, then felt it fizzle away. This must be a wound within her; someone had once given her a promise and then broken it. Jack added, “I’ll not go back on my word, Adaira.”

She mellowed and stepped closer to him, noticing his harp. “You’re prepared?”

Jack nodded, although he felt a pinch of worry. He had Sidra’s tonic and salve packed away in his harp case, but he didn’t know what to expect. He was both eager and hesitant to play for the spirits again, and he followed Adaira into the sunshine of the courtyard. She led him to the stables, to his great distress.

“Can’t we walk?” he asked.

“This will be faster,” Adaira said, mounting a dapple mare. “And besides, it will keep people from pestering us on the streets.”

She made a good point. Jack still hesitated.