Espy followed Tula down the stairs and into the Great Hall. That fright had arrived with Warrick’s warriors was evident in the way the servants huddled together, whispering among themselves while some visibly trembled. Several of Craven’s warriors stood guard at all entrances and exits, keeping watch and keeping everyone confined to the Great Hall.

There was no way Espy would be able to get past any of them. At that moment, she made a crucial decision and she hoped a wise one. She went to Tass, stationed at one of the closed doors.

“I need to speak with Lord Craven now,” she told him and as he shook his head and went to deny her request, she hurried to add, “Warrick’s warriors have come for me.”

Tass’ mouth dropped open and he stared at her as if he was still trying to make sense of her words, then he abruptly came out of his shock, nodded, and signaled another warrior to take his place, and hurried off.

Espy prepared herself to face an angry Craven, but when he entered the Great Hall in powerful strides and approached her, she was surprised to see concern in his narrowed brow and dark eyes. He took hold of her arm and hurried her through the hall and into his solar.

“What do you mean Warrick’s warriors are here for you?” he asked, keeping hold of her arm as if worried someone might enter the room and snatch her away from him.

A pang of doubt poked at Espy and her hand went to rest at her stomach. She hoped she was making the right choice in confiding in Craven. “When you ordered me off your land and the surrounding area, I had no choice but to go higher up in the Highlands. I went from village to village, croft to croft, helping the ill in exchange for shelter and food. I stayed off the well-traveled paths for they were dangerous for a woman alone. In one village, a laird had me brought to his dungeon where he ordered me to tend a man who he had had tortured. He wanted me to get him well enough so that he could continue to torture him. There came a time I told him that the man was dead, but he was not dead. I knew no time or effort would be spent in burying the man and when they dumped his body in the woods, I dragged him off and tended him.”

“Arran, the man you told me about,” Craven said.

Espy nodded “Arran survived and left the area as soon as he was well enough. He found me about a month later and told me about other innocent people like himself who were being tortured, and he asked me to help rescue them.”

Craven grabbed her by the shoulders. “Do not tell me you rescued prisoners from Warrick’s dungeon.”

“I did but,” —she hesitated briefly— “in order to do that I first became his healer to gain his trust.”

“No one gains Warrick’s trust and those who betray him suffer endlessly.”

Espy thought Craven shivered, but realized it was she who had quivered. “I tended and saved many of his warriors after battle and him as well, though there seemed to be nothing that could do him harm nor was there anything that could touch his heart,” she explained as if still trying to make sense of the fearless warrior. “Unbeknownst to him, I managed to save several lives from horrible deaths. It was when three women were brought to the torture chamber that I knew my time there was done. I could not wait long to rescue them or they would die.

“I freed two, one I was too late to help.” Pain filled her eyes as she spoke next. “I was caught leaving the torture chamber. I fought for my life, knowing what awaited me if I was taken prisoner. I would have rather died fighting than allowed that to happen.”

“That would explain the bruises you had when you arrived here and how you got the scar?” Craven asked, angry at what she had gone through because he had sent her away from the only home she had, twisting his stomach into endless knots.

Espy nodded. “I fought, and the guard who grabbed me lashed out with his dagger.” She shuddered, recalling the feel of the knife slice through her flesh.

Craven dropped his hands off her shoulders and rested them at her waist. “How did you manage to escape?”

“I was lucky enough to grab a chunk of slab, slam it against the guard’s head, then I shoved him hard. He stumbled back and was impaled on one of the torture devices.”

“Warrick’s castle is like a fortress. How did you avoid his warriors?”

“I was their trusted healer. Why would they stop me? Besides, they were too busy fighting the fire.”

“What fire?”

“The fire I set to the dungeon before I left.”

Craven rolled his eyes and shook his head. “You set fire to Warrick’s dungeon?”

Espy nodded. “I hoped it would delay them in discovering my part in it all, while giving me time to get far away. Since they knew nothing of my past, I had hoped they would not find me. I came here because I knew whatever waited for me here was nothing to what Warrick would do to me. And I wanted to come home to my grandmother and know love once again since I have known none, felt none, since leaving here.” She rested her brow to his chest for a moment before glancing up at him. “I am sorry. I did not mean to bring this trouble and danger to you. I will go with Warrick’s warriors.”

“You will not,” Craven ordered sharply.

She raised her head, her eyes wide as she pleaded with him. “Warrick will not only bring harm to you and your clan, but to my grandmother as well if I do not go with his warriors. I must go with them.”

Craven brought his face close to hers, her scar a stark reminder of the hell she had been through. “You are not going anywhere, and you will keep silent when I speak with Warrick’s warriors. I will have your word on that.”

“But—”

“Your word,” he ordered sternly.

“What choice do I have,” she said, knowing it was useless to argue with him.

“You made your choice when you returned here to me. Now it is mine to handle.”

Is that what she had done, brought her problem to him to settle? Could the beast actually defeat the demon?

“Your word,” he reminded her.

“I give you my word,” Espy said and somehow felt safer for it.

Craven took her arm and hurried her out of the room and into the Great Hall.

Espy’s heart lurched in her chest when she caught sight of Warrick’s warriors. They wore black robes with hoods that fell low over their faces, making them appear as if they were warriors of death. Swords were strapped at their waists, the metal so sharp it was known to slice those who dare got too near to them. There were six of them, six that could do more damage than sixty.

One stepped forward and drew back his hood. “Warrick has sent us to fetch his healer.” He nodded at Espy. “That woman.”

“Not a word of greeting, Roark, only demands?” Craven asked, keeping a keen eye on the man. He knew Roark though not as well as Warrick. He was a fierce fighter and stronger than most men, though one would not think it to look at him. He was lean, every part of him pure muscle and woe to anyone who thought to prove otherwise. He wore his dark brown hair shorter than most and had fine features women favored, but there was only one woman for Roark, his wife, Callie. He was also Warrick’s right hand man.

“I am here for one thing, Craven… to return the healer to Warrick. He means you no harm and I do not believe I need to make you aware of the consequences if the healer does not return with me.” Roark’s bold blue eyes went to Espy. “No harm will be suffered by any as long as you come with me.”

Espy would not let others suffer because of her, but she had given Craven her word to hold her tongue and she would… until there was no other recourse but for her to go with Roark.

“She is not going anywhere,” Craven said with such confidence that it had Roark’s brow shooting up.

Roark shook his head. “I cannot believe you would be foolish enough to defy Warrick, but then you always had tremendous courage. This time, however, it is misplaced.”

“I think not,” Craven challenged.

“Do not be a fool—”

“It is Warrick who is the fool if he thinks I will let him take… my wife!”

Complete silence filled the Great Hall, not a word was mumbled, not a sound was heard. The crackling fire in the hearth had even quieted.

“Return to Warrick and tell him that the beast does not surrender what is his. If he wants my wife, he will have to fight me,” Craven said. “You will be given drink and food, then you will be on your way, for—under the circumstances—you are not welcome here.”

“Warrick will want to hear this news right away. We will take our leave now,” Roark said and turned, then swerved back around to look at Espy. “My wife believed you her friend.”

Espy bravely stepped forward, though Craven caught her hand in his as she did. “Callie knows I am her friend. It is you who doubts it.”

Dylan walked over to Craven once the door closed behind the warriors.

“Send a troop to follow them to make certain they leave the surrounding area and are not meeting up with more of Warrick’s warriors. Also send the tracker to Clan MacVarish and have him make sure he is not followed. A priest recently arrived there by Owen’s request. Have the tracker bring the priest here right away,” Craven ordered.

“You are going to wed Espy?” Dylan asked.

“It is the only way to make certain she is not harmed,” Craven said.

Espy spoke up. “Sacrificing yourself for me will serve no purpose.”

“It will not only save you unspeakable torture and death, but it will also see that my clan is kept safe,” Craven said.

“Your clan will be safe if you let me go with them,” Espy argued.

“But you will not be.” Craven nodded at Dylan. “See it done.”

“Why wed me when you had wished the same fate for me as Warrick would deliver?” Espy asked as Dylan took his leave.

He once again took hold of her arm and propelled her toward his solar. “You question me when I am saving your life?”

Espy yanked her arm loose of his grip once in the room. “Saving me from one hell only to have me live in another?”

He stepped in front of her and lowered his head slightly. “You feel it will be hell to be my wife?”

“I have seen enough hate to know that it would be hell to be wed to a man who despises me.”

“I do not hate you, not any longer. My hate was misplaced. Besides, you have no choice in the matter. You will be my wife and that is the end of it.” Craven’s sharp tongue stopped the protest before it reached her lips. “Not one word.”

One word? She had a slew full of words to unleash on him, though she wisely let silence reign. He did, after all, admit his hate had been misplaced and at least that was a start. But if he no longer hated her, what did he feel for her? She would do as he ordered and keep hold of her tongue. It would do no good to do otherwise. Nothing she said would change his mind and why would she want it to? She did not want to be returned to Warrick. She wanted to stay here and if that meant wedding Craven then why argue with him?

If truth were told, Craven had stolen her heart bit by bit from the first moment he had kissed her. She could not explain why nor did she understand it herself that she could lose her heart to a man who had once hated her, misplaced as it had been. But there was something there between them, though she would have believed it nothing more than fancy-filled thoughts if her grandmother had not seen it herself and so clearly. So, was there a niggling of hope that part of the reason he decided to wed her was that he possibly cared for her?

A knock had them both looking to the door as it burst open.

Dylan hurried in. “Warrick’s warriors are headed to Cyra’s and another six of them move in from the west to join them,”

“Roark is no fool. He looks to verify what I told him,” Craven said.

Dylan approached Craven. “We cannot reach Cyra before Warrick’s warriors do.”

“You cannot leave her to face them on her own,” Espy insisted, fear for her grandmother’s safety rushing over her. She shook her head. “How does Roark know Cyra is my grandmother?”

Craven looked at her oddly. “Warrick knows everything.” He turned to Dylan. “Then hurry and get the priest here. I want this done so Roark takes the truth back to Warrick.”

Espy looked away from Craven as the two men spoke. A question had lingered in Craven’s eyes, and she had seen it clearly. She knew what it was and that he would eventually ask her. How had she been able to keep Warrick from knowing her true identity?

“Do you think he will challenge you?” Dylan asked concern heavy in his tone.

“It is difficult to say. You never know with Warrick. It is how he wins so many battles, he is unpredictable. There were times when it would seem that he was going to walk away from a fight only to turn and with one blow knock a man out.”

Craven’s words brought back memories that had her instinctively leaning closer to him as she spoke. “I often had to see to the results of his unpredictable nature, and I kept my distance from him as much as possible.”

“See to the priest, Dylan,” Craven ordered and took hold of Espy’s hand. “We will wait for him in the Great Hall together.

* * *

“Seanmhair!” Espy cried out upon seeing her grandmother enter the Great Hall with the priest.

Cyra threw her arms wide as her granddaughter ran to her. Her slim arms closed around her to hug her tight. A broad smile lit her face when they parted. “You will wed Lord Craven?”

Craven answered for her, having followed behind her when she hurried to her grandmother. “We do not have time to explain, Cyra. After the exchange of vows, Espy will explain everything.” He walked away to speak with the priest.

Cyra nodded and gave her granddaughter’s hand a squeeze and after kissing her on the cheek, she said, “I am glad I was visiting with Owen or else I would have missed this special day.”

Espy went to tell her there was nothing special about it, though she was beyond pleased that her grandmother would share it with her. The delight dancing in Cyra’s eyes and her broad smile had Espy holding her tongue.

“Love is afoot. Let it be,” her grandmother said with a soft laugh.

“He does not love me.” Was that sorrow she heard in her own voice?

“He would not wed you if he did not love you.”

“He weds me to save me from harm, to spare his people pain and suffering,” Espy corrected.

Cyra shook her head. “He weds you because his heart tells him to and for no other reason.” Espy went to argue but her grandmother stopped her. “No one tells the beast what to do, remember that.”

“Espy.”

She turned with a sudden jerk at Craven’s summons.

“Go to him, he worries over you,” her grandmother said and gave her a gentle push and walked to take a spot where she would watch her granddaughter exchange her wedding vows with Craven. Her heart filled with joy as she watched them join hands. The way Craven closed his long fingers around Espy’s with purpose and strength, how he stepped close beside her, tucking her against him, laying claim to her for all to see, but most of all it was the way his dark eyes settled on her granddaughter that caused her heart to catch. She had seen that look in William’s eyes for her daughter Sidra. That look that said my heart is yours now and forever.

Whether he realized it or not, she did not know, but he would learn soon enough that her granddaughter’s love would not tame the beast… but free him.