Espy tried to push past her husband as Warrick turned to walk away, but his arm refused to let her pass him. Her voice rang out, not that it was necessary with Warrick being only a few steps away.
“I will not stand by and see Adara suffer any more than she already has,” Espy threatened and Warrick turned, shooting her a look that struck her with the force of a blow.
“Keep that tongue in your mouth, woman, or your husband will not even be able to save you from my wrath. And do not waste another worthless apology on me.”
Craven whispered a warning to his wife. “Not another word.” He stepped forward. “We worry for Adara. She is a gentle soul.”
“Adara is no longer your concern,” Warrick said and went to turn away.
“Adara is my concern and my responsibility, Warrick. Her uncle appointed me Chieftain of Clan MacVarish upon his death and that included watching over his niece until a time—”
“That responsibility is no longer yours.”
“You cannot simply claim that,” Craven said.
Warrick turned a hard, cold stare on him. “I claim what is mine.”
“Explain yourself, Warrick, since you are not making sense,” Craven said, his own annoyance showing.
“Have you ever known me not to make sense, Craven?”
Craven’s response was instant. “No.” It took a moment for everything to set in. He shook his head, finally realizing what Warrick was not saying, though trying to comprehend it. “It cannot be so.”
“What?’ Espy whispered from behind him, her skin alive with gooseflesh yet again, sensing something was dreadfully wrong.
“Tell her, Craven. Tell your wife that I am the new Chieftain and lord of the Clan MacVarish.”
“That is utter nonsense,” Espy said and gasped, her eyes going wide.
“I see you realize what your husband already has,” Warrick said, his face an iron mask, but his dark eyes brilliant in what one would see as victory. “Adara is my wife!”
Chapter 4
Adara wished she was home at MacVarish keep. She could retreat to her bedchamber undisturbed, tucked safe in her bed. She shook her head. There would always be someone or something to fear. It had been like that as long as she could remember.
She got out of bed and went to the small window. The rain was just beginning to tap against it. She should leave, take her chances in the storm. Her hand went to her stomach. If it was only her that she had to worry about she would go, but she had the bairn to think of now.
A soft smile touched her lips as her fingers spread protectively over her lightly rounded stomach. Her shift and tunic covered the bump beneath, though the garments would not conceal her secret much longer. She had sworn to herself that unlike what she had suffered, she would do anything necessary to keep her child safe and she would love the bairn with all her heart.
Lightning lit the sky that had darkened considerably for it being only late afternoon and she squinted, her eyes having caught the outline of a man. Not any man… Warrick.
He stood out from all men, holding himself with the dignity and confidence seen in few others. She strained to see more clearly, the view from where she stood not very good. It appeared that he spoke with someone, a dark cloak wrapped around the figure against the rain. Or was it to hide his identity?
Warrick seemed to be listening to the small figure who barely reached his chest. After a few moments, he handed the person something and he scurried off. Warrick took a few steps, then stopped abruptly, lifting his head, his eyes settling on the window where Adara stood.
Instinct had her drawing back quickly, feeling as if she had been caught doing something wrong. A way she had felt often and obviously still did. But she had done nothing wrong, yet guilt poked at her as always.
Adara walked to the fireplace, rubbing her arms, a chill settling over her. She wrapped the soft wool blanket, draped over the chair near the corner of the hearth, around her shoulders like a shawl and let the rest fall around her as she sat. She stretched her bare feet out to the flames’ warmth. Espy had removed her boots and helped her shed her stockings, insisting she rest.
How could she with Warrick here?
Adara jumped as the door flew open and was ever so grateful it was Espy, though by the look on her face—pure horror—her relief faded quickly.
“Warrick is your husband? The bairn you carry is his?” Espy shook her head. “How? When?”
How had she ever thought she could hide from this?
Espy grabbed a small stool and sat on it after placing it beside Adara’s chair. “You should have told me.”
Adara shook her head. “I did not want anyone to know. I did not want to believe it myself.”
“How? How did this marriage come about?”
“I have often wondered that myself.” Embarrassment had Adara turning her head away for a moment.
“I am not here to judge you, Adara. I am here to help in any way I can.”
Adara turned, tears glistening in her dark blue eyes like stars in a night sky. “If not for you, I would have never known kindness. I appreciate you more than you know.”
“As I do you. I am your friend and always will be as I always will be here for you, whenever needed.” A small smile broke from Espy’s lips. “And I will be there to deliver your bairn. You will not be alone.”
Adara grabbed tight hold of Espy’s hand. “Promise?”
“I promise. You have my word on it.” Espy patted her hand that continued to cling to hers. “Now tell me how is it that you are Warrick’s wife?”
“It happened so fast.” Adara shook her head as if she still could not fathom it. “One day a man in a cart arrived at the farm I had been at for two years. I was told to go with him, that the family had no need for me anymore. I joined the other woman in the cart and we were taken to a keep and put to work there. I was only there two days when I was summoned to the chieftain’s solar. Two men besides the chieftain were there. They were looking over documents on the desk, writing something and affixing a seal to it.”
“Did you get a chance to read even a snippet of what was written?”
Adara cast her eyes down at her hands in her lap. “I cannot read.”
“I will teach you.”
Adara’s head shot up. “You will?”
“I will,” Espy assured her.
Adara continued. “I stood in the room waiting for someone to tell me what I was to do, then… Warrick entered the room. It was as if he consumed it, though it was more that he commanded it. And there was not a man there who did not quiver in fear. I sunk into the shadows, trying to conceal myself, my fear so intense. I was grabbed by the arm and forced to stand in front of Warrick. His dark eyes traveled from my head, to my feet, and up again, and he stared at me as if he were about to devour me.
“This one will do,” he said.
Espy let Adara be when she turned silent and waited for her to continue.
Adara tried not to think too often of that day, but it had been impossible. It lived strong in her memory and would never leave her.
She continued with the tale as if it was just that—a tale—nothing more. But it was and the tale had yet to finish.
“Warrick stood next to me as a man said some words I barely heard, I was so intimidated with Warrick’s imposing size. Then it was done, though it all still had not sunk in. I waited to be dismissed. I misunderstood when a servant appeared and I was directed to go with her. It was not until we entered the room and I asked her what my task was there and she told me.
“You are the wife of the Demon Lord. You will be made ready to receive him and consummate your vows.”
Adara turned silent once more and Espy thought that was the end of it, but Adara continued.
“A tub was brought to the room. I was washed, my hair scrubbed and combed, and a white nightdress was slipped over me. And there I waited for Warrick.”
This time Espy knew Adara was done, though there was one last question she had to
ask. “How did you escape him?”
“I did not. He left the room the next morning and a servant entered and told me to follow her. The next thing I knew I was in a cart and—”
“You were taken to Warrick’s dungeon,” Espy finished.
“I figured I served whatever purpose I was meant to and he intended me dead.” Her brow wrinkled. “But then I wondered after that day in the forest when Penley told us that he had tracked me down and paid to be rid of me for good, if Warrick had no hand in my disappearance.”
“But after escaping his dungeon, you were not going to take a chance to find out,” Espy said.
Adara nodded. “By then I had the bairn to consider. If I was wrong it would cost us both our lives. I worry even now what Warrick’s plans are for me.”
“From what he has said, he plans to claim the title of chieftain of the Clan MacVarish.”
A shiver raced through her, though she was toasty warm from the fire burning in the hearth. “I do not think my clan will be happy about that.”
“He is your husband and entitled to it. I do not see how it can be prevented. What more concerns me is what he wants of you. Why wed a servant when he is a titled lord? Though you truly are no servant, so does that now make a difference?”
“And the bairn,” Adara said in a whisper. “What will he do when he discovers I carry his child?”
Espy had no answer for her and it troubled her. She held tight to Adara’s hand, letting her know she was not alone.
The door swung open with such force that it had Espy jumping in front of Adara, shielding her.
Warrick entered the room, his presence overpowering it.
“I will speak with my wife alone,” he said.
“She is not feeling well. She should rest,” Espy said, attempting to keep him from Adara.
“She can rest when I am done with her.” He raised his hand when Espy went to further debate the matter. “Enough. You will leave us now.”
“Go,” Adara whispered, frightened for her friend. “Please go.”
Espy turned to Adara. “I will return later and see how you feel.”
“Only if I permit it,” Warrick said and stepped to the side of the doorway, a signal that Espy should take her leave now.
“Later,” Espy whispered to Adara and gave her hand a squeeze before walking to the door.
“Not a word,” Warrick cautioned when Espy looked ready to speak and she clamped her lips tight and walked out the door, Warrick shutting it closed behind her.
“Still not feeling well?” Warrick asked, approaching Adara.
He took slow steps toward her and each one made her shiver with uncertainty. “Somewhat.”
“I will give you tonight to rest. Tomorrow at first light we leave for MacVarish keep. Where we will remain until I say otherwise.”
He came to a stop near her and her eyes roamed over him, remembering that night when he had stood naked in front of her. He had a body unlike others, defined with muscle and tuned with strength. And his manhood… had flourished in front of her eyes, and it had frightened her.
She was small and he was far too large. They would not fit, but they had. Almost as if they had been made for each other.
“Did you run from me?” he asked his face an expressionless mask.
“No,” Adara said upset and not able to keep the quiver from her voice.
“I will have the truth,” he said.
“I have no reason to lie.”
“Then tell me.” He folded his arms across his chest, tucking them tight, the muscles growing taut as he waited for her response.
Adara fought to find her tongue, far too accustomed to holding it rather than speaking up, but with him standing over her, glaring down as if at any moment… he moved slightly and Adara flinched jolting back against the chair.
Warrick was familiar with the reaction of someone avoiding being struck by a swift hand. Adara had to have been struck often for her to react as instinctively as she did and the thought that someone had hit his wife repeatedly stirred his anger.
He waited, saying nothing. In time, he would learn more about her, but for now he wanted to know what had happened the morning following their marriage.
Unlike speaking easily with Espy, Adara had to force the words from her mouth to respond to Warrick. “A servant entered not long after you left that morning. She told me I was to follow her.” She paused a moment, fighting to quell the growing quiver in her voice. “I was grabbed and shoved into a cart and taken away to your dungeon.”
“Did you assume I sent you there?” An obvious suspicion and one he wanted confirmed.
“I did,” she admitted with a nod, “until I learned that a nephew of a family I had lived with for quite a while had arranged the abduction for his own purpose.”
“Yet doubt still lingered or you would have returned to me. Or would you?”
“I do not know you. I did not know what to think.” She had her own question to ask but lacked the courage. Why would a titled man wed a mere servant?
“You are my wife, Adara, and will remain so. That is all you need to know.”
His words had a ring of finality to them, but it was not enough for Adara. She needed to know the why of it. Why did he marry her? And did she have anything to fear from him? A yawn broke free instead of the questions and she raised a hand to her mouth.
“You need to rest,” he said.
Adara had noticed from the moment she had met him that he spoke with authority, expecting to be obeyed without question. And he had been.
Another yawn hit her. The last few hours had taken its toll on her. The walk here, her queasy stomach, having to face a husband who was a stranger to her. It had all been too much. She could feel the fatigue, as if it had burrowed deep down inside her. She hugged the blanket more tightly around her.
Warrick reached down and scooped her up in his arms, her blonde hair brushing his face and the scent of lavender meeting his nostrils and stirring memories. He was surprised that she did not pull her head away from his chest, but let it rest there, but then she was exhausted and probably gave no thought to it. As she had done when he had woken to find her head pillowed on his chest the morning after their wedding. He had inhaled the same light floral scent of lavender on her that morning, had felt the warmth of her naked body wrapped around his, and he had forced himself to leave her side, his manhood stiff in need, and she no doubt tender from his insatiable need for her the previous night.
He placed her on the bed and pulled a blanket over her and watched her eyes flutter as she fought to keep them open, forced them to remain on him, and he wondered if she feared sleep would leave her too vulnerable in front of him.
“Sleep,” he ordered and as if in surrender she closed her eyes or was she simply too tired to fight her exhaustion?
He stared down at her, watching her sleep, hearing the soft purr of breath from her lips. He had been furious when he had found her gone, assuming she had run away from him. He was more furious to have discovered that she had been taken from him, and even more angry to learn that she had suffered at his dungeon. His home. Where she should have nothing to fear, but then fear seemed ever present in her.
He stepped away from the bed and went to the fireplace. He added two logs, a chill having seeped into the stone walls from the harsh wind and rain that pounded the keep.
He had known nothing of her background, his only concern had been for her to serve a purpose, nothing more. She had been what he had wanted, a woman of no consequence, accustomed to obeying, holding her tongue, demanding nothing from him. Even her features had been of no importance, though when he first laid eyes on her with dirt marring her features, her hair streaked with grime and her garments hanging loose on her petite frame, he thought her at least passable. He had not realized the extent of her beauty until he had seen her freshly washed and clothed in a nightdress. He had not realized her hair was blonde, it had been so full of grime. Or that when the glow of the fire’s li
ght caught it, it shined a delicate red. And her pale skin had been soft, like the finest spun wool that felt more like velvet.
He snarled at his musings. He would not let this woman—his wife—get in the way of things. He wed her for a purpose and that was all. She would serve him as others did. That she was not hard to look upon was a benefit he had not expected, but was pleased to have. That she feared him would not hurt either. Obedience would then come easily for her and that was all he needed from her, to be an obedient and silent wife.
That he had had to search endlessly for her had annoyed him especially since he had thought she had run from him. But that she had been right under his nose, and he had not known it, continued to infuriate him. He would take great pleasure in seeing those responsible for her abduction suffer for it.
He would let her know that if she was a good wife, she had nothing to fear. In return, he would keep her safe.
He turned a glance at Adara. She slept soundly. She would rest well and tomorrow they would leave for MacVarish keep. Acquiring Clan MacVarish and its holdings had been a benefit he had not expected, but would add to his wealth.
Warrick walked to the bed and listened a moment to her steady breathing. “You will serve me well, wife,” he said and turned, and as he walked to the door and closed it quietly behind him, a single tear slipped from Adara’s one eye.
Chapter 5
Adara woke hungry, her rumbling and gurgling stomach agreeing with her. A quick glance at the window told her it was night. It was no wonder she was hungry, she had not eaten all day. She needed food as did the bairn. She ate sparingly, a habit formed from years of not having enough to eat. There had been times she had to sneak food, having been given a small piece of bread as a day’s meal. And while she now had more than enough food to keep from starving, she had found that her habit of eating lightly was simply too difficult to break.
However, her bairn let her know he needed more nourishment than a handful of food a day.
Highlander The Demon Lord (Highland Warriors Trilogy Book 3) Page 3
