"Good day to ye, Jirvel."
"Why have ye come this time?"
He was relieved. If he knew how to handle any of her moods, it was this one. "Ye did not attend the wedding and I came to see if ye were unwell."
"Nay, that be not the reason. Kannak would have said if I were unwell. Too much has gone between us for ye to lie to me now."
"Kannak said ye had a headache. Has it passed?"
"Nay, it was a lie. I wished to avoid Ronan." She poured the last drop of water and set the bucket down. "Have ye given yer permission yet?
"Nay, but I cannae avoid it much longer. If only ye would tell me whom ye prefer, Jirvel."
She walked to him and looked him square in the eye. "I told ye whom I preferred years ago."
Macoran slumped. "That again?"
"Aye, that again. Ye said yerself ye dinna like knowing another man was bedding me. What has changed?"
He stared at her for a long moment and then lowered his eyes, "Nothing has changed."
"Then ye must not make me marry again. It would be too unkind for us both."
"But ye must have a husband to care for ye. What will become o' ye when Stefan marries? And what then when Kannak takes a husband? Ye cannae live alone, Jirvel and ye know it."
He was right and it took a moment before she could think of a good argument. "What will ye do if yer wife dies and I am again married?"
Macoran closed his eyes in defeat. "I have considered that. Agnes becomes more feeble every day, but she be too mean to die. Her hate keeps her alive just to annoy me and I am convinced she will outlive me by many years. I fully intend to haunt that lass once I am dead."
She couldn't help but smile.
Her smiles for him were so rare, he wanted nothing more than to savor the moment. Too soon, her expression grew serious again.
"Please, Artair, ye must find a way not to marry me off. I could not bear it. Ye are the only lad who has touched me and the only one I want to touch me. Can ye not see that?"
She had not called him by his given name in years and it delighted him to hear her say it. He wanted so desperately to take her in his arms, but he held back. If there was to be a touch between them, this time she would have to come to him. "What excuse can I give the lads, Jirvel? Help me think o' a way to do it and I will not betroth ye. But I must have something to tell them."