“This may be a bit painful,” Espy said, probing Adara’s injured hand after giving her a hug, relieved she had not been badly harmed.
Espy’s touch was not as painful as she thought it would be, though Adara grimaced now and again.
“To my great relief, I do not believe any bones are broken,” Espy said.
“The hoof barely glanced the edge of my hand.”
“The blow bruised the flesh, but caught no bone. It will be tender and take weeks to heal. I will fashion a sling for you so that you may rest it. I will also show Wynn how to make a comfrey poultice to help with the bruising and healing.”
“I know how to make a comfrey poultice,” Wynn said, having remained close to Adara.
“That is wonderful, Wynn. You can make it now,” Espy said.
“No,” Adara said, “I want to go outside and see to my clan and Warrick’s warriors.”
“You need to rest this hand. There is nothing you can do for them,” Espy cautioned.
“I can be there for them. Show them I care. Show them I am not hiding away in fear,” Adara said.
“Aye, you can do that,” Espy said, “but first let me fashion a sling so that your hand can rest and begin to heal.”
“Send word, when my lady is near done and I will have the poultice ready,” Wynn said, a tear in her eye as she looked upon Adara with pride.
Adara issued more orders, instructing the cook to see that food was provided for the clan and the warriors and left on the table for any who wandered into the Great Hall looking for sustenance.
It was not long after Adara’s arm was placed in a sling that she and Espy left the keep and walked through the village, stopping to help those in need. Adara was amazed that there was less of a carnage than she had expected. The bodies of the fallen foe had been removed and those too badly injured to escape on their own had been left behind and were being tended by Warrick’s warriors.
Adara may not have been able to give Espy a helping hand with the injured, but she lifted spirits with words of encouragement and praise for a victorious battle to both the clan and Warrick’s warriors.
Adara also insisted on remaining with one of Warrick’s warriors while Espy bandaged a gash in his leg. The young warrior, Brock, feared he would be left with a limp and not be able to continue as one of Warrick’s warriors.
Adara leaned down and whispered near his ear. “Warrick would never desert one of his warriors who served him with honor as you have done.”
Brock kept his voice to a whisper. “Please, my lady, do not tell anyone I allowed myself to fear.”
Adara reiterated Wynn’s words, but added a thought of her own along with them. “We all fear something, sometime, but it is whether we let that fear stop us that makes the difference.”
Brock smiled gently. “I am grateful to you, my lady. You suffered a wound yourself and yet you tend others with your kind and encouraging words.”
Adara acknowledged something then that had been growing ever stronger in her. “We are family, Brock. I will always tend my family.”
It was night by the time Adara returned to the keep, exhausted, hungry, and her hand aching, Espy joining her against her wishes.
“I do not care, wife,” Craven said. “You have done enough for the night. No one needs you now. You will eat and rest and tend to yourself.” When Espy went to protest, Craven pressed his finger to her lips. “You would advise a woman in your condition to do the same.”
Espy sighed. “You are right.”
“Adara, you heard that, my wife says I am right,” Craven said with a chuckle.
Adara laughed and looked on with envy as Craven smiled and took his wife in his large arms, Espy resting her head on his chest.
She was glad when Wynn appeared and diverted her attention, placing the comfrey poultice on her hand. It was not on her hand long when the Great Hall door burst open and in stormed Warrick.
Chapter 22
Silence reigned as all looked upon Warrick’s dark eyes filled with such rage that many took quick steps back, though they were a distance away from him. His hands were fisted at his sides, his knuckles white, as if he was ready to deliver a deadly blow. His muscled chest heaved with a laborious breath and made one wonder if he had not already used his powerful fists on someone.
Adara saw none of that. She saw only her husband, the man whose arms she longed to be in.
She jumped up off the bench, the poultice falling off her injured hand, and ran to him.
Warrick caught her around the waist with his one arm, his eyes darkening even more when he caught sight of her bruised hand, she kept rested against her chest. He lowered his head as she stretched up on her toes to give his lips a quick kiss and her whispered words that followed shocked him, though he let no one see it.
“I have missed you so very much, husband.”
Her heartfelt words wrapped around him and squeezed his heart and his worry had him saying, “You are injured. And the bairn?”
She was pleased to hear concern in his voice and see that he was unable to keep it from his eyes. “The bairn is safe and I suffered no more than a bruise that will heal. Unlike others who suffered far worse.”
“My warriors did what they were trained to do and I in turn will see those responsible suffer for it.” His voice lowered to a whisper. “Know that I have missed you too, wife, and as soon as I can I will show you just how much.”
Happiness hugged Adara while desire tickled at her. This had to be love she felt for her husband and the concern in his eyes at least let her know he cared for her.
Warrick ushered her over to the table where Espy and Craven sat, Craven standing at his approach.
Adara missed her husband’s arm as soon as he released her to sit. She had been too long without his touch, without the feel of his strong hand in hers, and the strength of him wrapped around her.
Wynn returned the poultice to her injured hand and as she listened to her husband speak to Craven, fear creeped up to jab at her.
“I need your help. I need the Beast,” Warrick said. “False words were given to me as a ruse to carry out this attack. How the fool ever thought to win against me, I do not know. But he will learn not only what his lies have cost him, but what happens when you attack my home.”
“Whatever you need, Warrick,” Craven said.
“We leave now. Slain is on his way to join us.”
“I will gather my men,” Craven said and turned to take his wife in his arms.
Warrick turned to Adara, leaning down over her.
“You will stay safe, husband,” she said, feeling as if her heart was being torn from her chest. She did not want him to go. He had been gone far too long from her and what if he did not return? Fear crept up to poke at her.
“Heaven does not want me and either does the devil.”
Adara rested her hand on his cheek. “I want you, husband, and that is all that matters.”
“You are all that matters,” he whispered and his kissed proved it.
She stared after him as he left the Great Hall, Craven walking alongside him and she prayed that both men returned safe and unharmed.
After Warrick and Craven had been gone three days, Espy took her leave.
“I would not leave if this birth was not a difficult one, but Edrea has lost two bairns in childbirth years ago and when no bairns followed for many years she thought herself cursed or barren. This bairn is a miracle to her and her husband. I must be there to make sure all goes well.”
“You are needed. You must go. I am good and all is well here,” Adara said, not at all upset with her friend’s necessary departure.
Espy took hold of Adara’s uninjured hand. “I see good changes in you. Your fear has subsided and I am happy for you.”
“In some ways I have changed, and though my fears still linger, I fight them. I never did that before. Never thought I had the strength to do it. You showed me that I did.”
Espy smiled. “I gave you a taste
of your strength. You are the one who drank fully of it.”
The two women hugged and parted with promises of visiting soon and assurances that it would not be long before their husbands returned home.
Six of Warrick’s warriors escorted Espy home and Adara went to keep herself busy and keep fear at bay.
She made a point of visiting those wounded in the attack, seeing if they needed anything and sitting and talking with those who were confined to bed. It was no chore to her. She actually looked forward to it each day. It helped greatly talking with Warrick’s warriors. She was less fearful when she saw them in their black shrouds pulled down low over their faces.
Evening snuck up on her and she was glad for the day passing quickly. She took the evening meal alone in her room, not purposely avoiding those who supped in the Great Hall but unable to resist the urge for some time alone. She wondered if it was from years of spending more time alone than with others. She also wondered if Warrick were here would she feel the same.
She gave herself a quick wash, a difficult task with her injured hand, but she refused help from Wynn or any of the servants. She did not want them to see her scars. She knew they would talk, and talk spread, and her scars were personal, not for others to see and discuss.
She tried to hurry into her nightdress, the room holding a chill even with a strong fire burning in the hearth. Unfortunately, she got tangled in her nightdress, her injured hand paining her more today than usual and she got so frustrated, with her one good hand, she ripped the nightdress off from around her neck and one shoulder and tossed it to the ground.
The door swung open and Adara froze fearful of who would see her.
Warrick stood in the doorway, smudges of dirt and dried blood on his clothes, blood staining his knuckles and spots of grime on his handsome face. He had come straight from battle to her and the urgency on his face had her rushing forward in fear.
“Is everything all right? Is Craven—” She turned her head for a moment, fear and sorrow for Espy tightening her throat. When she turned to him again, she saw that her fright had seen it all wrong. He had rushed from the battlefield for one thing… her.
His chest heaved more rapidly than when he had first entered and his eyes sparked with passion. He wanted her with an urgency she had never seen before.
Adara reached out to touch him and he startled her when he backed away.
“Do not touch me,” he warned.
She shook her head, not understanding and took a step toward him.
“I am warning you, Adara, if you touch me now—” A growl rumbled deep in his chest.
“But you came to me,” she said confused.
“Too soon. Too soon from battle.” He turned to go, turned so he would no longer see her body, slim, petit, and with a swell to her stomach, their child nestled safely there, and the soft triangle of blonde hair between her legs where he desperately ached to be. But it was too soon after battle, he would not be gentle, did not want to be gentle. He wanted to throw her down on the bed and plunge into her over and over and over.
He forced himself to step out of the room and it took all his willpower to walk to the stairs.
“I missed you, husband,” he heard her say and he thought his rock-hard manhood would explode. He shut his eyes for a moment then forced himself to take step after step down the stairs. He would not treat her so wickedly. She was his wife. She deserved respect.
It had always been easy to assuage his need after battle. There were more than enough willing women in the camp who would spread their legs for him and his warriors. But his wedding night had changed everything. To his surprise, he found more pleasure with her than he ever had with any woman. Since that night he had thought of no other woman, wanted no other woman but his wife.
He stopped on the stairs, fisting his hands at his sides. Good Lord, but he ached for her. Had the whole ride here and when he swung the door open to their bedchamber and saw her standing there naked, he almost rushed at her so anxious was he to be inside her.
A glance at her injured hand and the swell of her belly reminded him he could not treat her like that. He could not. It would not be right.
I missed you, husband.
Her words rang in his head and in his heart. She missed him as much as he missed her. And had he not seen a want for him in her dark blue eyes, a want as strong as his?
I missed you, husband.
“No!” he commanded himself and went to resume his steps down to the Great Hall where he would drink until he passed out, making sure he did not disturb her tonight.
I missed you, husband.
Her words were like a sea siren’s call and he fought against them. But there was a demon inside him and when he made himself known there was no stopping him. The Demon never wavered, never tired in battle, and always took what he wanted. And he wanted…
He turned and vaulted up the stairs, a rumbling growl in his chest growing ever stronger. He burst into the room, went straight to his wife, fumbling with her nightdress, ripped it out of her hand, threw it aside, scooped her up, carried her to the bed to drop her bottom down on the edge, grabbed her legs and placed them over his shoulder, lifted his plaid and with one hard thrust entered her.
Adara’s gasp filled the room, but it was not one of alarm, it was one of relief and pleasure. She had been devastated when she had told him she missed him and he had left her, walked away as if it mattered not to him. She almost followed him, then realized she was naked and tried once again to slip on her nightdress to no avail. She was giving it another try, fighting back tears as she did when he had entered the room again.
She groaned aloud as he drove in and out of her, grateful he had not waited, her need too great. All she wanted was him inside her, filling her with endless pleasure, joining with him as one, and… the satisfying moan burst from her lips as her husband gave her everything she ached for.
Warrick exploded with a roar, his climax ripping through him with a satisfaction like never before. What made it even more perfect was that he watched his wife toss her head back and yell out his name for the second time in a short few minutes.
He did not pull out of her until both their pleasures had faded, then he dropped on the bed beside her. He reached out and took her hand and released it with a curse when she yelped. He sat up. “Forgive me, I forgot about your injury.”
Adara brought her bruised hand to rest on her chest. “It heals, though pains me at times.”
“I never even—” He shook his head angry with himself.
“And glad I am you did not,” she said softly and rested her good hand to his chest. “We ached for each other and I am grateful you let nothing interfere with that.”
“He brushed off the grime that had fallen from his plaid onto her rounded stomach, then rested his hand upon the mound. “The bairn does well?”
“He is a busy one in there, forever moving, kicking, as if impatient to get out.”
“While his da much prefers to be inside his mum.”
Adara laughed softly. “A place his da is always welcome and where she prefers him to be.”
He leaned down and kissed her gently. “We will do well together, wife.”
“So you will keep me?” she asked playfully.
She might tease, but Warrick watched her smile falter and a hint of worry fill her eyes. “I told you, you are stuck with me whether you like it or not.”
“I like it,” she confirmed quickly.
“Good, for you are mine forever. I will let no one take you from me.”
Adara pressed a finger to his lips. “I want no other. I want only your arms around me, your lips upon mine, your touch alone, and only you inside me.”
Warrick kissed her finger, teasing the top of it with a nibble. “As I said, you are stuck with me… only me.”
“A chore I favor,” she chuckled.
“A chore am I?”
She caught the smile that tried to escape the one corner of his mouth. Soon, very soo
n he would smile. He would not be able to stop it. “Aye, a chore that needs tending. You need a bath and food.”
“I could do with both,” Warrick agreed. “And you will join me in the tub.” He gave her no time to argue, he stood and disappeared out the door and Adara, fearing he would return with someone, rushed the blanket around her.
Warrick was not alone when he returned, Wynn followed on his heels along with two young lasses. They moved furniture around and when they finished two men carried a large round wooden tub into the room. Wynn instructed the two young lasses in how to drape the linen inside the tub and what seemed like an endless parade of servants began entering the room with buckets of steaming water.
Warrick began to disrobe, shedding his shirt and boots.
Wynn sat a small stool beside the tub and placed towels and soap on it and when the tub was filled to her satisfaction, she shooed the servants out and shut the door behind her.
Warrick hurried out of his plaid and went and scooped his wife up for the second time that night and lowered her gently into the water.
Adara couldn’t stop the ‘ahhhh’ that left her lips.
Warrick joined her, splashing the water over the side in his attempt to situate them both in the tub. It was good she was small or they would have never fit. She settled back against him where he had tucked her between his bent legs. She lay there enjoying the comfortably hot water, its heat soaking into the depths of her bones and warming her.
She knew from preparing baths for others that the heat would not last and she had no wont to feel chilled water after having enjoyed the delicious heat. With the soap on her right, she could not use her injured hand to fetch it.
“Please reach the soap for me, Warrick,” she said and he did, though he did not give it to her.
“Your hand. You cannot do this yourself.” He grabbed one of the buckets of water to the left of the tub and poured half of the water over her head, soaking her hair, then did the same to his. He lathered up her hair with soap and did the same to his hair.
Highlander The Demon Lord Page 20
