Highlander The Demon Lord

by Donna Fletcher

  Adara scrambled to sit up, her heart pounding against her chest in fright as horrific screams pierced the night and she tried to make sense of what was going on. The door suddenly burst open and she scrambled out of bed to hide in the deep shadows in the corner of the room as three of Warrick’s warriors rushed in.

  The screams grew louder and more terrifying, and Adara found herself back in the dungeon, waiting her turn, waiting for the suffering to begin again. This time, though, she did not wait… she ran. Out the door she went and down the stairs as if hellhounds followed on her heels. She hurried to hide at the bottom of the stairs, hearing heavy footfalls heading her way. They seemed never-ending and once they ceased, she hurried through the kitchen passageway and out the door.

  Rain pelted her and the ground was mush beneath her bare feet. She slipped a couple of times, but quickly righted herself. Lightning streaked the sky, looking like boney fingers reaching out for her, and she ran faster.

  “Not far now, not far,” she mumbled frantically.

  Her eyes widened even more than they had as she spotted the barn. She struggled to get the door open when she reached it, and close it behind her, the wind tugging at it, fighting to grab it from her hands, fighting to deny her sanctuary. She stood in the dark once she was safely inside, her chest heaving with deep breaths she was forced to take, though grateful she was familiar with the place. When she had first arrived at MacVarish keep, she had come to the barn often, the familiar scent of fresh hay and animals calming to her.

  “It is me. Do not worry. You are not alone,” she assured the animals. Truthfully, though, it was she who did not want to be alone, wanted something familiar and safe, something to drive away the dreadful screams that continued to echo in her head.

  She knew her way, even without light to guide her to the back of the barn and the corner piled high with recently stacked hay. She hurried to bury herself into the pile, hoping it would keep her safe, chase her fear, stop the screams. But they continued and she pressed her hands to her ears, begging the heavens to make it stop.

  As soon as his warriors had taken hold of the crazed woman, Warrick turned to see that his wife was unharmed. He froze when he saw the bed empty. He glanced around the room, his heart pounding viciously in his chest when he saw no sign of her. He did not bother grabbing his shirt, he reached for his plaid and quickly wrapped it around him and pulled on his boots.

  All the while the woman continued to scream and fight the two warriors holding her.

  “I will kill the devil. Kill devil,” she screamed.

  Warrick hurried to dress.

  “I will kill the devil and his whore too!”

  Her threat did not sit well with Warrick and he walked over to her and grabbed a handful of her hair at the top of her head and yanked her head back. “You threaten my wife, you die. Gag and secure her,” he ordered his warriors.

  She went to scream again and a cloth was shoved into her mouth and the two warriors who held her dragged her roughly out of the room.

  Warrick met Roark just outside the bedroom door. “Adara is missing. My guess is fright forced her to flee.”

  “The woman’s screams echoed off the stone walls just as the prisoners’ screams do in your dungeon,” Roark informed him.

  Warrick let several oaths fly.

  “Do you have any idea where she might have gone?”

  “Someplace safe,” Warrick muttered. “Have the men search the entire keep. I go to the barn.”

  “The barn?” Roark asked, turning to watch Warrick rush down the stairs without a response.

  Warrick hurried through the stormy night, his cloak flapping in the wind, his only thought his wife. She had to be soaked wearing nothing but her thin nightdress. He pushed the barn door open and stepped in, the vicious wind almost tearing the door out of his hand, as he closed it, and his concern for his wife and their unborn child grew.

  He stood in the darkness, rainwater dripping off his cloak to puddle at his boots. His eyes needed no adjusting to the dark and he quickly glanced around.

  Seeing and hearing nothing, he called out softly, “Adara.”

  He heard the rustle then.

  Hay.

  She had sought something familiar to comfort her, chase her fright. He only wished it had been him she had turned to.

  “Adara,” he called out gently again, not wanting to frighten her any more than she already was, and again he was met with the rustle of hay. “I will keep you safe, Adara.”

  He thought he heard her speak, but it was too low to be sure he had heard anything. He turned back and fetched the lantern, striking a flame to the candle inside it, then hurried his steps to the back of the barn, knowing exactly where she was… in the pile of hay that had been stored for the animals.

  Warrick stopped when he saw her, his stomach twisting and his heart feeling as if it was being ripped from his chest. Never would he forget the sight of her buried to her chin in hay, her hair covered with it and her dark blue eyes so wide with fright she reminded him of an animal cornered by its foe, waiting for death.

  He wanted to leap forward and scoop her out of there and into his arms, but she was far too frightened for him to make such a foolish move.

  “Not safe,” she whispered, shaking her head, the straw in her hair falling down around her face.

  He had been taught to harden his feelings until he had none. There had been no room for a caring heart. At that moment, however, he felt as if his heart shattered.

  “You are safe,” he attempted to reassure her.

  “Not safe,” she repeated. “Never safe.”

  “You are safe with me.”

  Fear widened her eyes further. “No. No. The screams. The dungeon. The pain.”

  He was going to destroy that damn dungeon when he returned home and he was going to make those who had harmed her suffer more than the fires of hell.

  “That is no more, Adara. You are safe now. Safe with me. I will let no harm befall you. You have my word, wife. I will protect you always.” Her eyes lost some of their fright and he kept reassuring her, repeating his words. “You are safe. You have nothing to fear. I will protect you always.”

  “Always,” she whispered as if it was a secret.

  “Always,” he reaffirmed and stretched his hand out to her. “Let me take you home where you will be safe.”

  “Home?” she asked as if she did not understand.

  “Our home, Adara, yours and mine. Where you will always be safe. I will make sure of it.”

  Fear began to fade from her eyes and when she shifted beneath the hay as if she was about to emerge from her safety nest, the barn doors flew open and Roark and several of his warriors rushed in.

  Adara screamed and jumped out of the pile of hay and into Warrick’s arms, her slender arms clamping tight around his neck. “Do not let them take me. Please, Warrick, please do not let them take me.”

  Warrick circled her waist with one arm, locking it firmly around her and held up his other to stop his men’s approach. “They will not take you. No one will take you from me.” He yanked his cloak off and draped it around her, then lifted her into his arms, tucking her tight against him.

  Adara kept her arms snug around his neck, burying her face in the crook of it, and whispering, “Never leave me, Warrick. Please never leave me.”

  “Never will I leave you,” he promised, pressing his cheek to her temple. “Never!”

  Adara jolted up in bed.

  “I am right here, Adara, I’m not going anywhere,” Warrick said from where he was by the hearth. “The fire needed tending.”

  He was naked, only this time it was not a dream and his body was just as she had remembered it, beautifully sculpted, then she realized she was naked as well. She grabbed the edge of the blanket and yanked it up to cover her breasts.

  Warrick walked over to the bed and tugged at the blanket, though not enough to slip it from her grip. “I have seen all of you, wife. There is no need to hide from m

e.”

  She cringed when he said hide, memories of last night rushing back at her. “You must think me a coward.”

  “You are anything but a coward, wife,” he said. “We all fear at times in our life.”

  “You knew fear?” she asked.

  Warrick joined her in bed, under the blanket, tucking her up against him as he braced himself against the thick headboard and settled the warm wool blanket over them both, allowing her to keep her breasts covered more for his sanity than hers.

  “I did when I was very young.”

  “Tell me,” she said and cuddled against him as she had done after he had returned with her to the room last night and seen to her care before placing her in bed and taking her in his arms. Remarkably to her, a definite place of comfort.

  “My father was known as a ruthless warrior, his skills far surpassing anyone. He expected his son to be the same. He started teaching me at a young age. I believe I was five years when he took me into the woods and left me there for the night to survive. He was shocked when I found my way home before morning and furious that I was crying. He beat me and took me back to the woods again and told me not to come home until the sun had risen a third time.”

  Adara could not hide the shock in her voice. “He left you two days in the woods alone?”

  “He did, though I did not return home until the fourth sunrise.”

  “Why? Were you hurt?”

  “No, I did not want to return home to my father. I did not want to leave what I had found there.”

  “What did you find?”

  “Freedom from my father.”

  Adara had wished often for a da who loved her. Strange that Warrick had one and yet from what he was telling her, the man had not been a da at all.

  “What of your mum?” she asked, wondering where the woman had been while all this had gone on.

  “She cared naught for me. She was as cold and heartless as my father. I often wondered how they ever begot me since neither showed an ounce of feeling for the other.” He shook his head. “I remembered thinking that if my father discovered I favored the woods, he would never let me return, so I lied to him. I told him I had gotten lost and that was why it had taken me longer to get home. I told him I never wanted to go back. He made certain to continue to send me regularly into the woods. It was there I learned to detect sound and sharpen my sight whether it be darkness or light.”

  “Your father never found out?”

  “He found out too late. By then, I had already become a more proficient and powerful warrior than him. He died as he would have wanted to… in battle.”

  Adara’s hand went beneath the blanket to rest protectively on her stomach.

  Warrick’s hand disappeared beneath the blanket as well, coming to rest on top of hers. “Worry not. I have no plans to do the same to my son, though I will teach him to be a skilled warrior.”

  As if the bairn agreed, he moved beneath their hands.

  “He is a strong one,” Warrick said with pride.

  Adara smiled. “Or she is.”

  “My daughter will also be taught to be a skilled warrior.”

  “I am glad,” Adara said. “I do not want her to have my fears.”

  He did not like seeing the sadness in her eyes. “You know well of fears and for good reason, wife, and will teach our daughter or son the wisdom of them.”

  “What wisdom can there be in fear?”

  “Much. The woods taught me that and you will learn as well.”

  Adara did not quite understand what he meant, but in time she hoped she would.

  “Who is the woman who injured you?” she asked, pointing to the cloth wrapped around his left forearm and sprinkled with blood. When her senses had returned last night she had been relieved to learn that his wound had been minor. He had deflected the blade enough that it had not cut him deeply.

  “I will find out today when I speak with her.”

  “You will be careful,” Adara said, her worry making it sound more like a command, and she thought she caught a slight lift to the corners of his mouth. Had he almost smiled?

  “Aye, wife, as you wish.”

  “I wish you to stay safe,” she said, this time her voice was soft and gentle.

  “I will keep us both,” —he slipped his hand beneath hers and caressed her stomach— “all three of us safe.” He moved his hand off her stomach and brought it up to tilt her chin up, and he did what he had been aching to do. He kissed her.

  There was no hesitancy for Adara, she returned the kiss, was hungry for it, had been since… the last time he had kissed her.

  It was a gentle kiss, a soothing one, an introduction of things to come and Adara relished the sensations it caused to race through her.

  When his lips left hers abruptly, Adara was about to protest, but he hurried out of bed and she almost scrambled after him and demand he not leave her. Something had changed for her last night. Crazy as it seemed, her heart had let her know that she was safe with Warrick, truly safe.

  “You need to know something, wife,” he said, turning around to face her.

  Her eyes turned wide at the sight of his swelled manhood.

  “I want you. I ache to be inside you, as your eyes can see proof of that. Rest and be well,” he urged as he slipped on his shirt, “for I will not wait another night to join with you. It has already been too long.” He hurried to wrap his plaid around him, then hurried into his boots, needing to get away from her as fast as possible before he did not bother to wait until tonight.

  Adara stared at the door after he left, wishing she had had the courage to say what ached to spill from her lips.

  Why wait until tonight?

  Warrick forced his thoughts away from Adara, she occupied them far too much, even more so now that he had found her. Never had he allowed someone to consume his thoughts as Adara did. His time alone in the woods had taught him the wisdom of keeping his head clear, his thoughts focused. He had learned the senselessness of wasting his thoughts on his father.

  However, he was finding it difficult to do the same with Adara and had since meeting her. He could not stop thinking about her. She snuck her way into his thoughts no matter how hard he tried to keep her out. He even found himself almost smiling twice now at something she had said or done. He could not remember the last time he smiled.

  Smiles were not something his father had encouraged and since smiles were never seen, or exchanged in his home, they disappeared completely from his life. When something is gone that long, never used, it can be forgotten. It had simply become his way not to smile.

  Until Adara.

  Warrick shook his head. Trying again to shake his wife from his thoughts. He had not intended to wed again. Not after his last disastrous match, but circumstances changed and he found himself in need of a wife, quickly, and one of his own choosing.

  Having given thought to it, he was grateful he had found Adara, though it had been by sheer accident. Or perhaps fate had planned it well.

  He entered the Great Hall and spotting Wynn, directing a servant, he summoned her with a snap of his hand. Her slow gait disturbed him. Her chore was too burdensome for her age. He had thought his wife would do what was necessary, but it seemed she had not.

  “Has Adara spoken to you concerning your chores here?” he asked.

  Wynn bobbed her head. “She has, my lord. She has ordered me to find two lassies to help me, and she has chosen to resume all the duties of the lady of the keep. She has plans to talk with Emona, the cook today, and she has also ordered stock to be taken of the meat house and the last of the harvest.” Tears shined in her eyes. “Chieftain Owen was wise in having her learn the workings of the keep. He felt in time she would find her strength and do well here. He was right.”

  “That is good to know, Wynn. See that my wife gets her morning meal,” Warrick ordered, wishing he had gotten a chance to meet Owen MacVarish. He had done right by Adara when no one else had, except Espy, and he wished he could thank the old man, but then he would by keeping his niece safe.

  Wynn bobbed her head again and smiled. “I have her meal ready and waiting. I will see she gets it right away and that she has food throughout the day so that she keeps strong for her and the bairn.”

  “You do your chore well, Wynn. That is commendable.”

  “It is no chore, my lord, to take care of family.”

  Now he understood the reason for his wife keeping Wynn in her position. She was family. Something Adara never had and now that she did, she refused to lose.

  Please never leave me.

  His wife’s words from last night rang strong in his head and his response remained strong in his heart.

  Never.

  They were family now and he would see that they remained so. The thought almost had him smiling.

  Warrick sat to eat, Roark joining him a few moments later.

  Roark knew what Warrick waited to hear and wasted no time in telling him. “The gag was removed when the woman calmed. She now sits mumbling to herself. She has eaten and drunk the brew given to her. From what the guards observed, they believe she had not eaten in some time.”

  “I have my doubts she is the one who murdered the healer,” Warrick said, dusting his hands of bread crumbs. “The woman does not seem to be of right mind and it would take right mind to do what was done to the healer.”

  “I agree. The two attacks may not be connected at all.”

  “Is this crazed woman simply that, demented, or does she want me dead for a reason? That is something we need to know. I will speak to her.”

  “If you learn nothing?”

  “I will decide her fate when the time comes. Has Benet returned from speaking with Espy?”

  Roark nodded. “He has and he told me that Espy got upset when she sniffed the wine. She said it contained the devil’s cherry. She demanded to know who drank the wine and died.” He scratched his head in thought. “If the wine would have killed the healer, then why slice her throat?”

  “If the healer had died from the poison in the wine, it would have been assumed she died naturally. Either someone wanted it known that she was murdered or two people were out to kill her.”

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