Highlander The Demon Lord

by Donna Fletcher

  “He is dead,” Roark said, stopping in front of Warrick.

  Catch who? Who is dead, thought Adara.

  “Now we will learn nothing. Who is the fool who killed him?”

  “He killed himself.”

  “He chose death over capture.”

  “The sign of an assassin.”

  Had she heard Roark correctly? Did he say assassin? And who was the assassin’s target?

  Roark summoned one of the nearby warriors and the man stepped forward and handed him two arrows.

  “He got off two—”

  “I heard three,” Warrick interrupted.

  Adara stared at the arrows. Someone had tried to kill Warrick?

  Roark nodded to the warrior and he hurried off. He held up the arrows. “They were made to resemble ours.”

  “I am getting close and someone does not like it,” Warrick said, his voice low.

  “Close to what?” Adara asked unable to remain quiet any longer, feeling vulnerable not understanding what was happening.

  Both men’s eyes fell on Adara as if they had just realized she was there.

  Warrick ignored her question and turned to Roark. “The trackers?”

  “They have been sent and the men scour the area.”

  “Find something,” Warrick ordered and with a nod Roark walked off, the warriors who had been standing nearby following him.

  Questions filled Adara’s head but she had no time to ask even one, Warrick rushing her inside the keep into the Great Hall.

  “You will stay here until I return for you,” he ordered and turned to leave her.

  Her hand shot out, grabbing his arm, her fingers locking firmly around it.

  Warrick’s head snapped around, his eyes settling on her hand, the strength of it gripping him tight as if she did not want to let him go. But that was not likely. More likely it was fear not favor, she held for him.

  “What happened out there?” she asked, fighting the tremor she felt building inside her.

  “It does not—”

  Adara stepped closer to him, her grip on his arm growing tighter. “Please, Warrick, do not leave me ignorant of the truth.” The tremor she was fighting claimed victory and instinctively she sought the protection of her husband’s powerful arms, stepping closer and collapsing against him.

  Warrick’s arms went around her and scooped her up. He went and sat on a bench close to the fire, keeping her cradled in his arms. She was not unharmed. She had been left shocked and frightened by the incident, and it did not help that she would be left ignorant of the situation.

  He slipped his hand beneath her cloak and rubbed and squeezed her arm, letting his strength soak in and chase her tremble away.

  While her husband could still put fear in her, how was it that she had also found solace in his arms? How had it become so instinctive for her to do so? Had it been memories of the one night they had spent together where surprisingly she had found comfort and contentment in his arms, his touch, his kiss? Did she long to share that time again with him?

  “I should send for Espy to be sure you and the bairn are well,” he said.

  Adara sighed softly. “No, I had a bit of a fright, but your arms chased that away and continue to give me and the bairn all the comfort we need.”

  Adara did something that no one had ever done to Warrick. She stunned him speechless. He might believe she sought his arms for protection but that she sought them for comfort stunned him even more.

  She raised her head off his chest. “Please tell me what goes on. Who were those arrows meant for?”

  He hesitated, not wanting the evil and danger that seemed forever to haunt him touch her but keeping her completely ignorant would not help either. “Me,” he finally said.

  She felt as if a hand squeezed at her heart and she did not know where she got the breath to ask, “Why?’

  He felt a shudder run through her and her hand hurried to rest on his arm as if in protection, both caring gestures. The thought both disturbed and pleased him. It also made him decide that while he would not tell her all of it, he would at least not leave her ignorant of the problem, since there was a strong possibility that more attempts would be made.

  “What I share with you can be shared with no one,” he said.

  She nodded. “You have my word I will say nothing.”

  “I search for someone and I believe that I am getting close and that someone does not want to be found. Do not ask me who is it. That is not something I will tell you.”

  “Is this the first attempt someone has made to,” —a shiver interrupted her words— “take your life?”

  “To purposely plan to take my life, aye, that it is. There have been numerous attempts in battle but they always failed.”

  That death was ever his companion frightened her and she hurried to say, “You must be careful.” The silent words in her head that followed surprised her. The bairn and I need you.

  Was that heartfelt concern he heard in her voice and showed in her dark blues eyes?

  Did she actually care for him?

  That was not possible. She feared him too much to care and what did it matter if she did. He could not let her distract him.

  Where the words came from that kept spilling from Adara’s lips, she did not know, either did she know what caused the pangs to her heart. “Promise me. Promise me you will be careful.”

  The caring in her soft, gentle voice took hold of him, chasing all sound reason away, leaving him with only one thought.

  He kissed her, brief at first, a mere brush of his lips across hers, before devouring her lips with his.

  Forever.

  That was how it felt since he had last kissed her and why he was so hungry for her now. Still it didn’t feel like enough. He needed more, wanted more, ached for it. He caught hold of his soaring thoughts and grew annoyed at his aching loins. Both had him bringing the kiss to a gentle end.

  This would not do. He would bed her and be done with it, satisfy this lust for her that had been growing since their arrival here. Or had it been since their wedding night?

  “Promise me,” she whispered a mere breath away from his lips.

  He was about to ask what promise when he recalled what she wanted from him… to be careful.

  “You have my word, wife,” he said and could not resist to seal his promise with a tender kiss.

  “My lord.”

  Warrick turned his head as did Adara to see Roark standing a short distance from them.

  Warrick got annoyed that he had been so engrossed with Adara that he had not heard Roark approach. That would not do. It would not do at all.

  “We found something,” Roark said.

  Chapter 11

  “Show me,” Warrick ordered, walking around the table toward Roark.

  Adara followed her husband, bumping into him when he stopped abruptly.

  “Where do you think you are going?” Warrick demanded, turning to face her.

  His face took on a scowl that easily intimidated and the familiar flush of fear raced through her, warning her to hold her tongue, step back, obey, as she had always done. Instead, she forced herself to say, “With you.”

  “Absolutely not. You will remain here at the keep until I come for you,” he ordered.

  “It might be advisable if you remained here as well, Warrick,” Roark said and ignoring the flash of annoyance in Warrick’s eyes continued explaining. “We found the dead warrior’s campsite and it appears that he was not alone. It also appears as if the camp has been there for at least two perhaps three weeks.”

  “Well before our arrival in the area,” Warrick said and Roark agreed with a nod. “But how did they know I would be here? No one knew of my plans.”

  Adara realized it before either of the two men did and said, “Me.”

  “What would you have to do with it?” Roark asked.

  “Bloody hell,” Warrick said, realizing what his wife meant. “Someone discovered you are my wife and knew I w

ould eventually find you. So they camped here waiting.”

  Roark shook his head. “Why not simply take her and force you to come for her?”

  “That would reveal their identity and give me what I search for,” Warrick said. “Here they would remain concealed, lay in wait, and strike.” He turned to Adara. “Has anyone new joined your clan recently? Or has there been anyone who stopped and sought shelter for a night or two?”

  “I do not know,” Adara said and it troubled her that she did not know. She had never given thought to what her solitude could mean to her clan. She should be familiar with all that went on in the clan. Had not her uncle tried to convey that to her by having her learn the workings of the keep? A thought came to her. “Wynn might know. She oversees the running of the keep and I often thought the village as well since she knows everything about everyone.” Another thought came to her. “Also Jaynce our healer might know something.”

  “I will speak to both,” Warrick said, “but first I will take a look at this campsite.”

  “At least wait until your warriors have combed a sufficient area before you take the chance of leaving yourself vulnerable,” Roark advised.

  “Their attempt to kill me failed, which left them no recourse but to flee. It will take time for them to regroup or report to the person they are answerable to before they make another attempt. Besides, they also have left themselves vulnerable by failing. Now we know they exist and it is only a matter of time before one or all are caught, then I will have my answers.”

  “As you say,” Roark said with a nod.

  Adara slipped her small hand into Warrick’s large one, lacing her fingers with his and was pleased when his instinctively closed around hers firmly. She looked up at him. “I go with you.”

  He gave a quick glance to her small hand encased in his and felt a kick to his gut and when he saw the plea—so aching, so tender—in her blue eyes, he felt a jab to his heart. Damn, what was it about this petite woman that caused such turmoil in him? Before he could deny her request, she spoke again, softly, for his ears alone.

  “Please, Warrick, I feel safer with you.”

  Another punch to his gut at her tender plea had him nearly cursing aloud, but he kept it contained to his thoughts as he said, “You will not leave my side and you will obey my every word.”

  Adara nodded. “I will.”

  “It is a bit of a distance,” Roark said. “Do you feel up to the walk?”

  Annoyed that he had not given that thought, Warrick was about to order her to remain in the keep when she smiled and laughed softly as her hand went to pat her stomach.

  “The bairn loves when we walk. When I sit too long he lets me know it. That was why I was outside when this happened.” She patted her stomach again. “He grew tired of me sitting and stitching.”

  Warrick noticed that Adara spoke with ease and at length when it came to the bairn. That she loved the child that grew inside her was unmistakable and made him feel even more protective of them both.

  “If you grow tired—” Another soft spurt of laughter from Adara paused Warrick.

  “He will let me know.” She gave another pat to her rounded stomach.

  Adara had taken brief walks in the woods, throughout her years of servitude, whenever the chance had presented itself, which had not been often, her daily chores all too grueling and all too endless to ever find time. When she did get a chance—sneaked a chance—she had often given thought to keep walking, not return to whatever hell she was living. Fear, however, had managed to keep her a prisoner and at times it still did. It was not until she learned what it was truly like to be a prisoner with no chance to sneak away for even a few minutes that she had sworn to herself after escaping the dungeon that never again would she allow herself to be held captive. If that ever happened, she would take a walk and this time keep walking.

  At the moment, she had no wont to do that. She had something now that she had longed for… a home. While her husband might not love her, he had proven he would keep her safe when he had protected her and their bairn not only against the arrow meant for him, but the fall that could have harmed the bairn. No one had protected her when she was just a wee one and she would not have that happen to her child.

  She glanced around. At one time, she would have been frozen with fright seeing so many of Warrick’s warriors. Now she was pleased to see them. They intimidated draped in their black shrouds, but not so much now with their hoods off their heads, their faces shown. Some of the warriors followed along with them while others were busy searching the area.

  Warrick would keep her safe and his warriors would keep him safe and she was glad for that. However, the thought that someone wanted her husband dead troubled her terribly.

  “What troubles you?” Warrick demanded. “You wear a frown.”

  She looked at him. “And you wear a scowl. Why?”

  “Your frown causes my scowl. Do you not feel well?”

  “I feel good. The walk invigorates me.”

  “Then why the frown?” he demanded again.

  She spoke honestly. “It troubles me that someone wants to kill you.”

  “Grown fond of me, have you?”

  Was that a bit of humor she heard in his tone? Regardless if it was or not, she responded with a slight tilt of her head, a smile, and a touch of wit. “Do I have a choice?”

  It was brief but she saw it, a slight lifting at the corners of his mouth as if he had nabbed the smile before it could surface.

  “I will grant you that choice,” he said, enjoying their banter.

  “I am grateful for that, my lord.” With a bob of her head and her smile tender. She confirmed, “I have grown fond of you.”

  Warrick never expected those words from her or his reaction to them. He had to pounce on the smile that rushed to his lips, catching it before it could surface, but from the way his wife’s smile grew, he wondered if he had failed to stop it completely. At least she could not hear how it had set his heart to thumping rapidly against his chest.

  Adara caught it again, the slight lifting at the corners of his mouth, and this time a brightness to his dark eyes she had never seen before. She made no mention of either, though it did prove that her husband was capable of smiling.

  “Over here,” Roark called out.

  Adara felt a chill wrap around her when her husband’s expression turned hard, uncaring, and she promised herself that somehow, she would get her husband accustomed to smiling until it finally became a natural thing for him to do.

  The campsite had been deserted quickly and in their foolish haste things had been left behind, leaving signs of their extended stay there. Signs that three or more people had occupied the camp.

  Warrick walked Adara over to a large rock, the top smooth. “You will sit here and rest until I am done.”

  She nodded and he assisted her to sit before walking away. She took the time to look around. There were so many warriors scouting about that there was no way they would miss anything. There were even some warriors in the trees.

  She watched with interest at how thorough her husband looked over the campsite and asked questions of Roark as he pushed at the cold ashes, that had once been the camp’s fire, with the tip of his boot. Every now and then he would glance her way, making sure she had remained where he left her, and she would smile at him. He did not respond, but she did not expect him to. She was thinking that if she kept smiling at him that, one time, he just might return her smile. At least, it was a start.

  Adara glanced around. The area was not familiar to her. It was the opposite way of where she usually walked between MacVarish and MacCara land. This area of the woods led eventually to MacKewan land. She only knew that because of Hannah, the woman who had escaped with her. She had been glad to hear that all had went well for Hannah and she was wed to Slain MacKewan, and content.

  She turned to see where her husband was when her eyes took notice of a stone on the ground not far from her. It was not a large stone. It could fit in the palm of one’s hand and looked almost perfectly round and flat. She scrunched her eyes, attempting to get a better look. There appeared to be something on the stone. She had always enjoyed finding stones with designs nature had imprinted on them. She had tried to keep a few, possess something of her own, but after they had been taken from her and discarded, she had stopped gathering them. The hurt of losing the few things she had managed to get for herself, that were hers and hers alone when she had nothing else, was just too much to bear.

  Now, however, it was different. She could keep what she found. Not having given thought to gathering stones with designs in so long, she grew excited to start again. Without thought, she hurried to scoop up the stone.

  She dropped down and picked up the flat stone, smooth all around except for the etching in the middle. Nature had not given this stone a design, a person had. She ran her finger up the straight line and over the two triangular ones that sat atop the straight line. It resembled an arrow.

  “What are you doing?”

  Startled by her husband’s sharp voice, she almost fell backward, but his strong grip prevented it and had her steady on her feet in a flash.

  “You were to stay where I put you,” Warrick snapped.

  His anger never failed to spark her fears, though she needed to remember that he had showed no signs of treating her badly. He had not raised a hand to her or kept food from her and that combined with the kindness he had shown her on their wedding night gave her confidence he would not do her harm.

  “Adara,” Warrick said, tempering his tone when he caught the fear that flashed in her eyes. He had not meant to frighten her, but she had frightened him when he had looked and not seen her where he had left her, not that she had gone far. But still, she had not obeyed him.

  His gentler tone did much to alleviate her fears and she was quick to apologize and explain. “I am sorry. I got so excited to find a stone with a design on it that I did not think. I went to snatch it up. The stones I had collected at one time were taken from me and I was so pleased to think that I could start collecting them again and not fear them being taken away.” She shook her head. “I truly am sorry, Warrick.”

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