Highlander The Demon Lord

by Donna Fletcher

  “Then why not just cut her throat? Why poison her?”

  “That is a good question.”

  “Benet also said that Craven had to stop his wife from coming here. She insisted she wanted to make certain that Adara was all right. She calmed some, though remained upset, when she learned that the healer had died. Benet did not tell her that she had been murdered. One other thing, word has spread about the crazed woman and many now believe she is the one responsible for their healer’s death and are restless to see her executed.”

  “It is time they learn that I, and I alone, determine a prisoner’s fate. Has the post been erected in the middle of the village?”

  “It has,” Roark said.

  “Bring the woman there and gather the clan. It is time for them to meet the Demon Lord.”

  Chapter 15

  Adara entered the Great Hall and surprisingly found it empty, though the quiet was a blessing. She supposed all were busy with their daily chores. Still, though, some of Warrick’s warriors could usually be found there at different times throughout the day.

  Her suspicions and concerns grew when she entered the kitchen and found it empty. The cauldron bubbled with delicious scents, turnips and onions sat partially chopped on the cutting board, and a couple of cats had snuck in to scavenge the basket of scraps near the open door, running out when they saw Adara.

  Where had everyone gone? It was as if everyone had deserted the keep.

  She stepped outside and listened, hearing nothing, she walked around the side of the keep and came to an abrupt stop when, in the not far distance, she saw a crowd had gathered. Adara had spent time walking through the village upon her arrival here, getting to know the paths, and making her own so she could avoid people in case she found it necessary to take her leave quickly. Though she never made use of that knowledge, it eased her worries to know it was there if need be. It helped her now, since she could make her way to see what was about without being seen.

  She maneuvered her way around the cottages, keeping a good distance from the crowd. She found a spot beside one of them where the lower portion of the tree trunk looked as if it was attached to the side of the cottage. She could watch without being noticed. Besides, everyone was too busy chatting and pointing to where two of Warrick’s warriors stood to either side of the post, buried deep in the dirt, its flesh appearing freshly stripped of its bark.

  A sudden hush descended over the crowd and they began moving, spreading out to the sides, making room for someone’s approach. Adara saw some people shudder and some women step behind their husbands, turning their heads, not wanting to look. She did not need to see who caused such fear, she knew. And when her husband came into view, she shuddered as well.

  The sight of him could easily put fear in people, his confident gait, his regal bearing, his dark garments, and while his features were the finest many had ever seen and could easily draw a woman’s eyes, it was his dark eyes, cold and ruthless, not a speck of caring in them that frighten deep down to the bone. At that moment, one could see why he was called the Demon Lord.

  Adara shuddered again and shook her head. He had treated her well last night. He could not be the demon everyone thought him to be. As she watched, she began to wonder if she could be wrong.

  “Secure her to the post,” Warrick ordered and the crazed woman was braced against the post, her arms kept straight at her sides and a rope tied, several times, around her upper arms between her shoulders and elbows. Another rope was wound around her legs from just above her knees to a short distance below them. The last rope went around her ankles, though only twice. Her face hung down, her long gray hair falling like a cloak around it.

  “I want each and every one of you to take a good look at her and tell me if you know her or if she looks familiar to you.”

  One of Warrick’s warriors yanked her head up by her hair for all to see her face.

  When all did not glance her way, Warrick commanded with a harsh yell, “Look at her!”

  All eyes turned on the woman.

  Adara did not have a view of the woman’s face. She could only see her from the side and that revealed little.

  When not one person spoke up or stepped forward, Warrick continued. “She will remain tied here until I say otherwise. You are not to speak with her, feed her, offer her a drink, touch her, or throw anything at her. You will see what happens to someone who takes arms up against me. Another post will be placed beside her for anyone who dares go against my word.”

  Adara shuddered again, thinking what the woman would suffer left without food or drink and to the elements. How long could she possibly last? Was it his intention to leave her to die slowly for having attempted to kill him? A harsh punishment, but then it had been a harsh crime.

  The woman had done the unthinkable and she would pay for her misdeed, but Adara wished the woman would not be made to endure such suffering. There had to be another way.

  Adara turned away, not able to watch anymore and feeling guilty that she worried over the woman when she had attempted to take her husband’s life. She hugged herself, a chill wrapping around her. Her fault since she wore no cloak, not having planned to step outside the keep. She should not offer an ounce of sympathy to the woman for what she had done and yet she could not help it. Fear had been her constant companion along with suffering. Both, all too often, paid her a visit and lingered far too long. She wished neither on anyone.

  She jumped when a cloak was flung around her and she was lifted off her feet and, for a moment, fear pierced her like a hot iron.

  “It is me, Adara, you are safe,” Warrick said as soon as her body turned rigid in his arms. He got annoyed at himself for not alerting her to his presence, not thinking that dread had yet to leave her. As soon as her limbs turned limp, he cradled her in his arms. “Do not leave the keep without my permission.”

  “The keep was empty.”

  Her fear still lingered. He could tell by her brief response, almost as if she feared to speak.

  “So your curiosity got the best of you?” he asked.

  “Aye.”

  He entered the keep and took her to her solar as she referred to it, though only to herself. She had not known that he knew the whereabouts of this room. There had been no reason for him to be there. But having heard the story of his time in the woods, she realized he had learned to make himself aware of his surroundings.

  Had she not done the same with each new place she had been sent to? She had learned to stay quiet, listen, observe, and come to know who and what to avoid, when to hide, and when to fear the most.

  Warrick placed her in the one of the two chairs that faced the fireplace in the small room. A low flame flickered in it and he was quick to add logs.

  Adara stood, slipping his cloak off her to return to him, but he placed it back on her shoulders.

  “The room holds a chill.” You will keep it on.”

  “You need—”

  “I have another. I want you and our bairn warm and comfortable. Do what you will here. I have matters to see to.”

  “The woman—”

  “Worry not about her.”

  She shook her head. “She will suffer—”

  “She deserves to.”

  “Has she told you anything?”

  “She either mumbles incoherently or remains silent.”

  “She obviously has a troubled mind. Can nothing be done for her?”

  A glare rose in his dark eyes. “Shall I free her so she can attempt to kill the devil and his wife again?”

  Adara cringed at him referring to himself as the devil and quickly rested her hand to his chest. “No, I want no harm to come to you, and you are no devil.”

  He covered her hand with his, wanting to keep it there against his chest, over his heart that beat a bit faster at her touch. “Most, if not all, would not agree with you, but that matters not. It is one thing to threaten me, but a deadly mistake when she threatens you. That I will not tolerate. She can rot on th
at post as far as I am concerned, and all will see their fate if they dare take up arms against me and mine.” He moved his hand off hers to rest on her stomach. “I told you I would keep you both safe, and I will.” He kissed her lightly on the lips. “I will return later.”

  “I have not seen the woman. Should I not look upon her as well?” she asked, his words like a safety net wrapping around her.

  “I will take you when I return. Do not go on your own,” he warned.

  “As you say,” she said and surprised herself when she went up on her toes to brush her lips across his.

  “I like when you kiss me, wife,” he said and brought his thumb to trace over her lips. “I have missed the taste of you and think often of our night together.”

  Her mouth dropped open in surprise and she gasped lightly when his thumb slipped in her mouth and was shocked when her tongue instinctively licked at it. But it was the familiar deep rumbling moan that came from her husband that sent a tingle rushing through her to settle moistly between her legs. She remembered that moan, relished it, for she had learned on her wedding night what it meant.

  He desired her.

  Warrick stepped back, taking hold of her shoulders as if steadying himself. “Tonight, wife.”

  He rushed out of the room too fast to hear Adara’s words.

  “Why wait?”

  She sighed and all but collapsed in the chair. That her husband desired her surprised her, though not as much as her own growing desire did. Knowing that he had not ordered her taken to his dungeon and his fury over discovering what had happened to her had helped her to see him differently and begin to change her thoughts about him. Though mostly, it was the way he had protected her, kept her safe since his arrival a week or more ago that had done more to sway her thoughts. That he continued to reassure her that he would keep her safe and show it in his actions as he had done last night, shielding her from the mad woman’s blade and shielding her from her own fears, had helped her to trust his word.

  She feared trusting too much, memories reminding her to be careful. There had been those she had trusted only to find they were not trustworthy. She could think of only one person she trusted completely… Espy. She owed Espy her life and she was forever grateful to her. Espy also proved time and again her trustworthy nature. Then there had been Uncle Owen. She had begun to trust him. If only they had had more time together, she was sure she would have wound up trusting him completely.

  Now there was Warrick. She wanted to trust him, not hesitate to do so, but life had taught her that trust took time and was earned. Time would tell with Warrick, and she would have to be careful since her heart thought differently.

  Trust. Trust, it said to her. And maybe just maybe love would follow.

  Adara shook her head at the foolish thought. Warrick would never love her. Desire her perhaps, but love? Was he even capable of it?

  Was she? She knew so little of it.

  She smiled, thinking of the day she had asked Maia about love and how it felt.

  “Love is tricky, she had said, “It pulls at the heart and tricks the mind. But when it truly strikes there is nothing you would not do to keep it safe.”

  Adara had ached to know more, ached to know love, and had not stopped asking questions.

  “Enough,” Maia had said, though continued explaining. “Love is different. The love a mother has for her bairn is unconditional. It is born of the heart and of all the months she carries the child, feeling it grow inside her and giving it the precious gift of life.”

  “All mums instinctively love their bairns?” Adara had asked, thinking how her uncle Owen had told her how much her mum had loved her. Though, he had spoken of how he had wanted his sister, her mum, to stay with him or at least leave Adara with him while she went north with her husband. He had felt it would not be safe for Adara, and he had been right.

  “Most all do,” Maia had said. “There are some that care naught but for themselves, but those are few.”

  “And love for a husband?” Adara had asked.

  “That love is the tricky. It is the one that pulls at the heart and tricks the mind. Your heart tells you that you love this man and would do anything for him. Do anything to be with him.”

  Adara had gotten upset. “How horrible. How then do you know love is true?”

  “That is an age-old question yet to be answered, though some insist you know when it happens. Tricks, though, tricks. You must be ever vigilant.”

  Adara often recalled their conversation, hoping one day she would make use of it. She wondered if that day was now.

  Roark walked with Warrick to the keep. “I thought we would find something by now, but it is as if the others have vanished.”

  “Send warriors to the nearby clans to see if any strangers have stopped there lately,” Warrick ordered. “Also send word to Slain as to what has happened and have him keep a watchful eye and report anything unusual to me. Do the same as well with Craven.”

  Roark nodded.

  Warrick stopped before entering the keep. “You always speak your mind to me, Roark. What troubles you so much that it has you holding your tongue.”

  “How long before we return home?” Roark asked without hesitation.

  “A question you have never asked me before when we have been away. Explain,” Warrick ordered.

  Roark was blunt. “I miss my wife.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I have been away far too much these last few months and I wonder if Callie will even remember me.”

  “Or do you wonder if she will find another man while you are gone?”

  “Never would Callie do that to me as I would not do it to her.”

  “Not even to appease the need that aches at you?” Warrick challenged.

  “I have not seen you appeasing that need with another woman since you wed.” Roark snapped and shook his head. “Forgive—’

  “Do not bother to apologize. We both seem to be in need of our women. Since I have no immediate plans of leaving here, send for Callie and have her be informed of what goes on at home. Though, I believe the woman will know more than those in charge while in my absence.”

  Roark grinned from ear to ear. “She will at that, and I am grateful for this, my lord.” He turned to hurry off to see it done.

  “Roark.”

  He stopped and turned.

  “Never snap at me like that again.”

  “Aye, my lord,” Roark said with a respectful bob of his head, his smile gone.

  Warrick entered the keep. It was quiet. Everyone busy with their chores. The same with the village. Everyone was busy with daily chores and those Warrick had added. He wanted the village in good shape for winter since he did not plan on leaving here before then.

  He had made no mention of it to Roark, but it was the reason he had him send for Callie. He did not want the man to face the winter without his wife. His own wife was the reason they would be remaining here through the winter. He wanted Espy to attend Adara’s delivery as much as Adara wanted her to. He would trust no one else.

  He had not told Adara that yet, but he would soon since he did not want her to worry.

  He went to climb the stairs to fetch his wife and met her coming down.

  She smiled when she saw him. He loved her smile. It made him want to smile, but he always caught his smile, stopping it. A habit he found hard to break.

  He reached his hand out to her and she hurried to take it, her small hand disappearing in his as it closed firmly around hers.

  “Where were you going?” he asked.

  “To get a hot brew.”

  “Have the servants not seen to your needs that you must come fetch it yourself?”

  Adara made no move to take another step when they reached the bottom of the stairs.

  Warrick raised a brow at her.

  “I ask for your patience, husband. I have served others as long as I can remember. I am accustomed to serving myself. It will take time for me to accept I no longer need to do that.”r />
  He was pleased she offered an explanation and annoyed that he expected far too much of her far too fast. “Patience is not one of my virtues, but you deserve that from me for what you have been through. I will try and, if I falter, you will remind me.”

  Adara smiled again, delighted with his response. “I will do that, husband, and I am grateful for your attempt at patience.”

  Warrick leaned down and whispered, “This is our secret or else others will expect the same of me.”

  She caught the slight, almost unnoticeable curve at the corners of his mouth. He was being humorous and someday—someday—he would let a smile free.

  She returned his whisper, “I will keep your secret.”

  “I trust that you will.”

  She forced a wider smile, to hide her surprise at his words. Did he actually trust her?

  “We will have a brew and then I will take you to see the crazed woman.”

  “I would prefer to see her first and possibly walk through the village afterwards?” she asked and chuckled softly as her hand moved to rest on her stomach. “Otherwise the bairn will protest.”

  “We will walk,” he said, keeping her hand firm in his as they left the keep.

  Adara’s stomach clenched as they approached the post where the woman was tied. Villagers kept their distance from the woman as they went about their chores and Adara did not blame them. Warrick had been true to his word and another post had been pounded into the earth next to the woman for anyone who dared to defy him.

  The woman’s head hung even lower than when Adara had seen her last. Her chin nearly touched her chest and her gray hair hung like a veil around her head, concealing her face completely.

  Adara placed her hand to her stomach, not to calm the bairn who remained quiet, but hoping to ease the clench that grew tauter. It was a familiar sensation that came upon her often and sometimes had her wishing she could run and hide. She wished it would go away and trouble her no more.

  “Stand here,” Warrick said, keeping her a safe distance away but close enough for her to see the woman’s face. He went and, grabbing a handful of hair at the top of her head, yanked it up.