The Bard (Highland Heroes #5) - Maeve Greyson Page 0,103
the bag to Sutherland and retrieved her cane. Her free hand kept time with a rhythm only she heard as she started across the courtyard with slow, methodical steps. “Ye willna have thirteen bairns, as I said before.” She shook her head and made a face. “I canna believe I got it as wrong as I did.” She wagged a finger at him. “But neither will ye have the nine of yer wife’s dreams.”
The more she talked, the more he found himself calming. So far, she had said nothing that warranted him losing his temper. “I am listening,” he said with a tightening of his jaw.
“Ye will sire seven sons and one daughter.” Aderyn smiled. “The wee lassie will come last in answer to her mother’s prayers. That one will be spoilt rotten by all in the clan—especially by her brothers.” She stopped walking and rested a hand on his arm. “I will also have ye know that the two of ye are truly blessed. I have seen that ye will walk through the years together to a great age. Not only that, but when ye both leave this world, ye do so within hours of one another. At that time, ye will be surrounded not only by yer children but also by yer children’s grown children and beyond. ’Tis a wondrous gift to have been granted such a life. A pair of such rightly matched hearts couldna hope for more.” She chuckled and started walking again, staring down at the ground. “So, ye see, my future chieftain, not all my words for ye on this summer’s day are dire.”
Her gentle scolding made him smile. “I thank ye, my favorite witch, and I shall bear it in mind that I need to hear the bad along with the good—for the benefit of all.”
She lifted her head and nodded. “Ye will be a fine chieftain.” Pointing her cane at the front of the keep, she chuckled. “Yer wife is coming to ye. It does little good for one queasy stomach to see to the caring of another.” She stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Ye may share my words with yer wife. In the end, they will help her as they have helped ye look ahead. All I ask is that ye wait until after today to tell her about her father. Let today be a gift of oblivion for her, aye?”
“And ye didna feel ye could that for me?” he asked.
“A chief must never be oblivious to anything,” she said with an unsettling look. “And I must share my visions when I am bid to do so. Let us leave it at that.” She turned away and started up the steps just as Sorcha came out the door. “Mint will help ye, too, lass. Breathe it in good and deep. Have ye some in yer pocket?”
“Aye.” Sorcha opened her hand, revealing the crushed green leaves and sending their clean, sharp scent into the air.
“Good lass.” Aderyn patted her shoulder and entered the keep, allowing the heavy double doors to close behind her.
Sutherland rushed up the steps, concerned with Sorcha’s pallor. “Oh, my dear one. From now on, if someone else is ill, ye need to stay away.” He took her arm and led her to a shaded bench set away from all the chaos of the day’s preparations. “Shall I run and get ye some water?”
She held the crushed mint to her nose and breathed in deeply. “Nay. I will be fine in a bit. The mint and the fresh air are helping.” A perturbed look added color back to her cheeks. “What kept ye? Was she not in her dwelling?”
“She bade me sit so she could tell me she was wrong about our bairns.” He would share the good prophecies today. That would help get her over her sickliness. He hadn’t decided if he would ever tell her about her father. In some cases, ignorance was bliss and one of the greatest gifts he could ever give her.
“Aderyn is never wrong.” Rubbing the mint between her hands, she pulled in another deep breath.
“Ask her yerself when next ye see her.” He knew Aderyn would never tell Sorcha about her father. The old woman had placed that curse upon him.
“Fine. So what news did she share this time? Have the ranks of our brood grown even more?” She tossed aside the spent herbs and brushed her hands together.
“Seven sons. One daughter.” He grinned, then laced his fingers with