Highlander The Demon Lord (Highland Warriors Trilogy Book 3)

by Donna Fletcher

  “Then sorry can hold little meaning to you by now. It is nothing more than an instinctive response that is meant to placate. Therefore, it serves no purpose to me. I will not hear it spill from your lips again.”

  “But I truly meant—”

  Warrick stopped her before she could say anymore. “No, you did not. You spoke to appease as you have done through the years. It meant nothing to you, and I will not tolerate that from my wife.”

  Adara bit her lip to restrain the sorry that hurried to rush out. He was right, sorry meant nothing to her, yet… “I did not mean to disobey you.”

  “I realize that, but I still will not tolerate disobedience. It is one rule of mine I expect everyone to obey… without exception.”

  Adara nodded, worrying for the first time in her life that, obedience, something that had been instinctive to her, might now be too difficult for her to tolerate and having no idea why. The thought was at once alarming and also welcoming.

  As they walked back to the keep, she asked, “What punishment do you inflict on those who disobey you?”

  “For you it would be days confined to your room, but for someone who enjoys solitude that is no punishment. Punishment is meant to be uncomfortable, something you never wish to experience again.”

  Adara could not stop the shiver that ran through her, recalling her screams when the hot irons had been used on her body.

  Warrick silently cursed himself, knowing his words had brought back memories to her that were better left undisturbed. He rushed his arm around his wife and hurried her inside the keep and into the shadows of a small alcove. He slipped his hand under her chin to take gentle hold of it. “Listen to me well, wife. I may punish you, but never ever will I have you tortured.”

  “Then what will my punishment be?”

  “You already serve it,” he said.

  “How so?”

  “You spend eternity with the Demon Lord.”

  Chapter 13

  Adara could not chase his words from her head.

  Eternity with the Demon Lord.

  That was her punishment, her fate? There was no chance of it ever being different? This was her life now, wife of the… she refused to think any other way of him or call him anything other than Warrick.

  They sat at a table in the Great Hall, food and drink having been brought to them and Wynn having been summoned.

  “You say Wynn oversees the running of the keep?” Warrick asked.

  “She has and does well at it, though of late—” Adara’s thought interrupted her words. She had noticed changes in Wynn lately.

  “What of late?” Warrick pressed when she failed to continue, seeing her attention had been diverted, though pleased to see she was eating without any nudging from him. She needed to keep strong for her and the bairn.

  “I think it has become too burdensome for her in her advancing years,” Adara said.

  “Did you plan on relieving her of this burden?”

  Adara was a bit stunned by his question, and it prompted her to once again think of her duties to the clan and how she had not paid enough attention to them. She wondered if the solitude she had sought actually had been fear keeping her prisoner, keeping her from getting to know her clan, from making friends, from truly being free.

  “I would speak to Wynn first,” Adara suggested, not wanting Warrick to simply remove the woman from her place in the keep.

  “Then see to it,” he ordered.

  Stunned once again, Adara stared at him. “You want me to do it?”

  “You are the lady of the keep. It is your duty. See it done.”

  Unlike her uncle Owen who encouraged her to do things, Warrick ordered her to do so. Or was he only reminding her of her duties?

  “Are you not familiar with the workings of a keep? I assume being a servant in the keep where I found you that you would have knowledge of such things.”

  “I was only at that keep for two days.”

  “How did you come to be there?” Warrick asked, something sparking in his memory.

  “The family I served took me there and left me. I was told I would be a servant in the keep.” Adara wondered over the scowl that rose on his face.

  “How many times have you been given to another family?” Warrick asked annoyed that she had been passed around as if she mattered to no one.

  Adara had thought of the small sticks she had used to keep count until finally she had simply given up and thrown the sticks in the woods one day. “I stopped counting after a while.”

  She turned her head to see what had caught her husband’s attention, his eyes glancing over her shoulder. Wynn had entered the room and Adara wondered how he had heard the soft shuffle of her feet over their voices.

  One look confirmed what Adara had thought, overseeing the keep had become too much for Wynn. The woman had been of fair height, though her stooped frame made her appear shorter. The wiry strands of gray that now dominated her hair refused to remain confined to her braid and she squinted as if she was finding it difficult to see clearly. And while her face showed signs of age, there was one thing that had not changed about her from what Adara could tell. It was her smile. No matter when Adara saw the woman, she was always smiling.

  “What can I do for you, my lord,” Wynn asked with a respectful bob of her head.

  “I have a few questions for you.”

  Adara saw Wynn’s hands begin to tremble.

  “You have done nothing wrong, Wynn,” Adara reassured her and went to stand and go comfort the old woman.

  Warrick squeezed her thigh, keeping her seated. He reminded her of her place and it was not alongside Wynn.

  “Do you know of any travelers seeking shelter or aid here lately?”

  “One or two in the last two weeks. They sought shelter and some food before moving on, eager to leave and get home before winter sets in. There was a woman traveler who required a healer or so Jaynce told me. She did not tell me anymore than that about her, though,” —she paused for a moment as if attempting to remember something— “I think Jaynce mentioned that she looked familiar to her as if perhaps she had stopped here before.” A tear caught at the corner of her eye. “Is it true, my lord, that Jaynce is dead and that someone killed her?”

  “Aye, it is and I will find who did it and see the person punished.” He stood, seeing Roark approach. If you recall anything else that Jaynce had said to you regarding this woman, tell me or Lady Adara.” He looked at Adara. “You will remain in the keep until my return.” He leaned over, bringing his face close to hers. “I will have your word on that.”

  She smiled softly, pleased, that he chose to have her word than to command her. “You have my word, husband.”

  He loved her smile, it felt like a sprinkle of sunshine washing over him, chasing the gloom and he reacted without thought. He kissed her, soft and gently.

  Adara returned the unexpected kiss, having thought when he brought his face close to hers, how nice it would be to feel his lips on hers once again.

  Warrick had to force himself to end the kiss, another time, another place, and that would not be so. He stood, needing to put distance between them while thinking of later tonight when they would once again share a bed. He walked around the table and turned to Wynn. “Lady Adara has something to discuss with you.” Then he walked away, forcing himself to take step after step when all he wanted to do was snatch his wife up in his arms and spend the remainder of the day alone in their bedchamber.

  Adara’s eyes followed him and continued to linger in his wake after he was gone from the room. Her heart was beating faster and a tingle of pleasure continued to prickle her skin, not to mention the pleasure that had settled between her legs. Was it possible? Had she missed the intimacy they had shared that one night? Did she want to share it with him again?

  “My lady, you wish to speak with me?”

  Adara turned to Wynn, having forgotten she was there. “Sit, Wynn.”

  Wynn shook her head. “I will stand,
my lady.”

  Adara understood that Wynn was far too steeped in the ways of a servant to accept such an improper invitation. But Adara was the farthest thing from a proper lady of the keep.

  “If you do not sit, Wynn, then I will have to stand and I am tired. Please sit so we may talk.”

  Wynn hesitated and when Adara went to stand Wynn sat with a sigh that Adara was sure came from the old woman’s aching bones. She knew all too well the toll it took to see chores done and Wynn had done daily chores far longer than she had.

  “I fear I have not been fair to you, Wynn.”

  Wynn shook her head repeatedly. “No. No, my lady, you have been good to the clan. You treat us well and make no demands. You have lightened many a load for more than a few.”

  “Not your load, though,” Adara said and watched all color drain from the old woman’s face.

  “It is nothing I cannot handle,” Wynn assured her, gripping her hands in front of her.

  Adara was surprised to see fear in the old woman’s eyes, but even worse her smile had vanished. “Your chores have become too burdensome for you.”

  “Please, my lady, the keep is my home, the people in it my family. I do not know what I would do without it.” She fought back tears, though one slipped out. “I enjoy serving you and I look forward to seeing your bairn born and serving another MacVarish.”

  Adara’s wide-eyes betrayed her shock that the woman knew of the bairn. She had thought she had hidden it well.

  “The others found out today, seeing you running through the village, your protruding stomach obvious to them. Though tongues have been busy since you isolate yourself so much, having many think you kept a secret,” Wynn said. “But I knew long before that that you were with child, and I was pleased that the MacVarish family, the Clan, would carry on.”

  Family.

  All within were family to Wynn. She had thought she had been family to those she served, but that had not been true. Family did not sell you. Toss you away. Not care what happened to you. That would not happen here in her keep, in her family.

  “You are not going anywhere, Wynn, but you have worked much too hard for far too long. You taught me much about the running of the keep. It is time I started doing my duty and the first thing I am going to do is lighten your burden,”—Adara shook her head when Wynn went to speak— “you will need rest and have extra time to tend and play with the bairn when he is born.”

  Wynn’s smile returned.

  “Let me tell you changes I will make,” Adara said and filled a tankard with cider and handed it to a startled Wynn.

  Adara climbed the stairs later that evening, Warrick ready to join her when Roark appeared and let him know there was a matter that needed his immediate attention. While part of her wanted Warrick in her bed, another part feared him there. What if what had been between them that one night was something born in her hopes and dreams. What if it was not at all like she had remembered it, but was the way she had wished it would be?

  What if she once again was disappointed? There was no getting free of Warrick. She was his wife and would remain so. Old fears took root once again and she thought how much better it would be if she could hide once more, tuck herself away where no one would see her, where no one would hurt her or the bairn.

  She was tempted, so very tempted, but what good had hiding done her? She had exchanged one prison for another. She had escaped once with help. This time she would escape on her own. Somehow she would escape her fears. She had to for her bairn’s sake.

  Adara yawned as she entered the bedchamber, the warmth of the crackling fire, the large bed with its fresh bedding rolled back, candles keeping the darkness away, all welcoming her like loving arms.

  She recalled the first night she had entered the room she had previously occupied when she had taken up residence here. The single bed, the small fireplace, the lone chair all seemed like a dream. She had feared she would wake and find herself back in a barn with hay for a blanket and the smell of animals heavily upon her. It took time, weeks, for her to settle in and accept that the room was hers and no one was going to take it away from her… until Warrick.

  Never, though, had she imagined occupying her uncle’s bedchamber. It had been prepared and kept in wait for Craven the new Chieftain of the Clan MacVarish and rightfully so. But no more, it now belonged to Warrick just as she did.

  Adara switched out of her garments and into her soft wool shift that Espy had given her. She loved the feel of it against her skin, soft and gentle… much like Warrick’s touch.

  She shook her head, trying to chase away the persistent memories. She slipped into bed, pulling the blankets up around her, a chill having descended on the room even with the fire that roared in the fireplace. She thought sleep would be difficult, her endless thoughts keeping her awake, but the day had been long and Adara more tired than she had realized. Her eyes barely closed when sleep took hold, though the memories lingered.

  Warrick stood naked by the fireplace, the light from the flames casting a soft glow on him. Adara was not ignorant of the male body. She had tended male babies, washed men in preparation for burial, seen men strip naked and climb into bed with their wives, but never had she seen a male body as beautifully sculpted as Warrick’s.

  “You are my wife, be a dutiful one and I will treat you well,” Warrick said. “Choose otherwise and I will see that you regret it.”

  Adara nodded. What else was there for her to do? He was not asking something of her that would be difficult, having been obedient all her life. And he would treat her well if she did, if she could believe the word of the Demon Lord.

  “Come here,” Warrick ordered.

  Adara was not sure her legs would hold her when she stepped forward, they trembled so badly. She forced herself to move, to go to her husband.

  Husband.

  How could it be that she had a husband and he was the infamous Demon Lord? Her stomach roiled and she feared she would retch before she reached him.

  Finally, after what seemed like she had taken a hundred or more steps, she stopped in front of Warrick. She cast a silent prayer for strength and another prayer that her husband was a man of his word and he would treat her well if she obeyed him.

  He rested his hand on hers where it lay at her side, though he did not take hold of it, he simply let it rest there against hers. It was not long before his warmth seeped into her chilled skin, sending a shiver racing through her and prickling her skin.

  “You are safe with me. You have my word on it,” he said

  She wanted to believe him. She wanted to feel safe, but others had given their word and it had meant nothing. Would his word mean the same?

  He raised his hand and she instinctively jumped back.

  He lowered his hand. “I will not strike you. Only weak men strike women and you will find I am not a weak man. Now step close to me so I may kiss you.”

  She did as he said, not giving it thought, for she feared if she did, she would be a coward and turn and run. She wondered if he thought the same of her when his arm slipped around her waist, holding her firm, allowing for no escape.

  Her body grew rigid when he brushed his lips across hers, but after a few times of his lips whispering across hers, tainting them with the lightest of kisses, her body lost its rigidness. It tightened again when his lips pressed firmly against hers, demanding more. Never having been kissed, but having seen others kiss, she attempted to return his kiss.

  Fear rose up like a hand choking at her throat when he halted the kiss abruptly. Had she done something wrong?

  He stepped back, placing his hand at her elbow and slipping it slowly down to take hold of her hand and walked her to the bed.

  She went along, her legs moving, though how she did not know since they trembled as badly as before.

  He stopped next to the bed and his hands went to her hips. He took hold of her shift. “Raise your arms.”

  His voice held a command and yet there was no harshness to it,
and she did as he said and raised her arms.

  He pulled the shift up and over her head, tossing it aside, then scooped her up in his arms. “I will not have you fear me in bed. After this night, our bodies will hold no secrets from each other.”

  Warrick stripped off his garments eager to join his wife in bed even if it was only to hold her in his arms. He would wake her, but after what she had gone through today he was relieved to see her sleeping peacefully. He did not, however, like that she wore a nightdress to bed. He had hoped she would remember what he had told her their first night together.

  You will sleep naked beside me always.

  He would have to remind her.

  He climbed into bed carefully and was about to wrap his arm around her when she turned, snuggling against him and settling her face against his chest as if she had been waiting for him. He slipped his arms around her, having been waiting impatiently to hold her like this again, and found that she felt far more precious than he had remembered.

  Her soft, even breath tickled his chest as it had done that night, as it would do for endless nights to come. He would have it no other way. He could attempt to convince himself that he had no time to spend with her. She was his wife and she must do her duty, but it was not duty he wanted from her in bed. He wanted more, no matter how much he tried to ignore it, chase it away, he wanted more from Adara than he ever wanted from a woman.

  Content for the first time in what felt like forever, Warrick drifted off to sleep.

  He woke suddenly sensing something was not right and not knowing how long he had slept. The dying embers in the hearth indicated a length of time had passed and a heavy darkness seemed to close in around him.

  That’s when he sensed it… someone was there in the room, in the darkness.

  He caught the movement before the blood-curdling scream tore through the air and saw the glint of the blade before it slashed down toward Adara.

  Chapter 14

  Warrick threw himself over his wife, his arm shooting out to deflect the blade, it catching part of his forearm as he rose out of bed and threw himself at the culprit.