Espy sat talking with her grandmother in the Great Hall while Craven had gone to wait outside for Roark’s return. He would not leave without confirming that Craven and Espy were wed, for that would have been Warrick’s first question upon Roark’s return.

The priest had been only too pleased to present confirmation of the marriage until he heard who he had to face, then he begged to be freed of the duty. Craven had given him no choice, though he had given the man his word that he would keep him safe.

Espy had heard the priest mumble that no man is safe from the demon lord, then he had begun to pray as he followed behind Craven.

“You will stay a day or two, Seanmhair?” Espy asked hopefully.

“You do not need me here having just been wed.” Cyra patted her granddaughter’s hand. “Besides, I have a woman who needs healing that I must see to.” She gave her head a brief shake. “Her spirit needs more healing than her body. I know so little about her since she barely speaks, a word or two is all she says and then turns silent on me.”

Something poked at Espy to ask, “Have you learned her name?”

“She has not trusted me with it yet. She is small, thin, and frail. Her one hand appears to have suffered an injury, leaving two of her fingers crooked and—”

Espy interrupted her. “Does she stay at your cottage?”

“I wish she would, but she will not tell me where it is she resides. She simply appears at my door every other day and I feed her, tend her, and—”

Again Espy interrupted her grandmother. “Today she will come to you.”

Cyra nodded and stood. “Which is why I must be on my way.”

“Yes, you must go and tend her. She needs you,” Espy said, standing and hugging her grandmother. “I will visit soon.”

Cyra smiled. “Remember, let things be. All will go well.”

Espy hugged her grandmother again, tighter this time. “I love you, Seanmhair.”

“And I you,” Cyra said.

“I will see you to your horse,” Espy said but soon learned that no one was to leave until further word from Lord Craven.

“But there is someone I must tend,” Cyra explained.

“Please go explain to Lord Craven and ask his permission for my grandmother to take her leave,” Espy said to Tass, and it was not long before he returned to let her know Craven had granted it.

The bell tolled for a second time that day, letting everyone know that Warrick’s men were returning. Warriors left the Great Hall to gather outside, not one noticing Espy and Cyra slipping through the passage that connected the castle with the kitchen.

Once Espy saw her grandmother off safely, she hurried to the stable. There was no one around, everyone lingering near the front of the keep to watch Lord Craven defend the clan. She soothed Trumble while she readied him to ride, letting him know that they were sneaking off for a while but would return. In minutes, she led Trumble out of the stable and into the woods.

* * *

Craven stood on the steps of the keep, the priest beside him as Roark entered the castle grounds. This time, however, Roark arrived with more warriors. When he brought his horse to a stop, Craven raised his hand before Roark could speak. “If Warrick has anything to say to me, let him say it himself. Espy and I are wed and nothing is going to change that. The priest here will confirm it.”

The priest nodded vigorously while his body trembled.

Roark ignored the quivering man. “She betrayed Warrick.”

“Espy did what she felt was right,” Craven corrected.

“That is not for her to decide,” Roark argued.

“And this is not for you to decide. It is between Warrick and me. As I said, let Warrick speak for himself. Now be on your way. There is nothing left for either of us to say,” Craven ordered.

Roark glared at Craven. “She lies. She is not known as Espy to us. Who truly is she and what else does she lie about?” He turned his horse around and took his leave, his men following suit, and Craven knew it would not be the last of it.

She lies. Who truly is she? His words rang in his ears along with the answer. A woman who cares deeply and will do anything to protect the innocent and helpless. A woman he now called his wife.

He had never thought to wed again, but this was no true marriage like when he had wed Aubrey. It had been a grand celebration, friends coming from all over and food and drink galore. Music played, songs were sung, tales were told, and the future stretched out brightly in front of them.

What awaited Espy and him? He did not know, but he was eager to find out. Lately he had realized he had grown accustomed to her being in his life and, for reasons he could not fathom, he wanted her to remain in his life.

I care for her.

He almost shook his head. Did he care for her or was it simply that he desired her, and would that be enough to sustain their marriage? Only time would tell.

He entered the Great Hall expecting to see his wife there speaking with her grandmother. Only servants lingered about. He felt his stomach clench. There would be no reason for her to run off now that they were wed, so where had she gone?

Tula entered the hall and he was quick to ask if she had seen Espy.

“No, my lord, not since you wed. I have been busy preparing your bedchambers. She may have gone to the healing cottage to see if anyone was in need.”

Craven dismissed her with a wave and turned to see Dylan walking toward him.

“Our warriors follow Roark and his warriors to make sure they do not linger in the area,” Dylan said, coming to a stop in front of Craven.

“Roark will send a message to Warrick and linger here until he hears from him. It is what Warrick would expect.”

“Warrick will come here?”

Craven nodded. “He will face me himself, though he will not come right away. He will wait and one day he will arrive and make his demand.”

“He will want Espy?”

“He will want something. We will see,” Craven said, not sounding as if he worried about it. “Have you seen Espy?”

“Tass told me that Cyra had to leave to tend someone and that Espy walked her to her horse.”

Leith burst into the Great Hall and spit out in one great breath, “Trumble’s gone.”

Dylan turned a quick glance on Craven. “Why would Espy go with Cyra?”

Leith shook his head, his hand pressed to his chest.

“Espy did not go with Cyra?” Dylan asked.

Leith faltered once or twice but got his words out. “I saw Cyra ride off alone.”

“Get my mare, Leith,” Craven said to the lad, and Leith hurried off.

“You will want the tracker and a troop of warriors since Roark and his warriors are still in the area.”

Craven nodded. His heart beat so furiously that he thought it would burst from his chest. He did not know why she had taken off as she did and at the moment he did not care. He only wanted to make sure he found her safe and unharmed, then he would see that she got what she deserved for being so foolish.

* * *

Espy made her way as quietly as possible, on foot, through the woods. She had dismounted Trumble once the trees became so dense that it made travel more difficult. The ground was just beginning to sprout with the beautiful violet blue, fairy flowers that carpeted this section of the woods in the spring. When young, she had lingered enjoying their beauty, though she would dare not touch one, her grandmother warning her that they belonged to the fairies and were to be left for their use and pleasure.

Today, however, there was no time for lingering. She had to get to her secret place, the one she went to as a child and had continued to go to as an adult, especially when her heart hurt. She had come to the place after her mum and da had died and though her grandmother knew where it was, she never disturbed her, never intruded on her time there.

She had shared it with only one other person… Adara.

Espy swerved around, having thought she heard a footfall, but with Trumble having remained calm, it was not likely. He usually alerted her when someone was nearby. She continued walking, frightened that Warrick’s warriors would find Adara and return her to the dungeon. She could not let that happen. She had not freed Adara only to see her taken prisoner again.

With a watchful eye and cautious steps, she made her way to the place that had consoled her and brought her peace. She smiled when she saw the small cottage that had been abandoned and neglected when she had found it. A tree had grown through the lone window and out through a hole in the thatched roof. The front door hung crooked, though closed well enough and the tiny fireplace inside provided sufficient warmth even though part of it had crumbled. And it sat protected, wrapped in the arms of a plethora of trees and a large boulder to the opposite side.

Espy had always felt that the forest lovingly embraced the tiny dwelling and kept it safe from harm. She had told Adara all about the tiny cottage and she could understand why she had come here… Adara wanted to be safe from harm.

“Adara,” Espy called out softly. “It is me, Espy and Trumble. We are alone. No one has come with us and no one will follow.”

Once Espy had agreed to help Arran, he had taught her how to hide her tracks so no one could follow her. It had served her well as would it now, since no doubt her husband would follow her.

Husband.

She shook her head. She had no time to dwell on her husband or that she even had a husband. She would face the consequences upon her return. At the moment, all she cared about was seeing that Adara was safe.

“Adara,” she called out again. “Roark and Warrick’s warriors are in the area.”

“I know,” came the gentle voice.

Espy watched as Adara stepped out from behind the boulder. A patched brown skirt and faded linen blouse hung loose on her painfully thin body, but how could she be anything but thin after having spent time in Warrick’s dungeon. She appeared shorter than Espy remembered her, half a head less than her own height. Her pale complexion added to her look of frailty, though nothing could mar her beauty. Her dark blue eyes added to her lovely features, but it was the color of her hair that caught the eye the most. It was a beautiful blond color tinged with red and while it probably looked stunning when long, it now lay just above her shoulders, having been chopped with a knife when she had been brought to Warrick’s dungeon.

She held her right hand, with the two crooked fingers, pressed against her stomach. Espy had wished she could have helped heal her the fingers, but she had arrived at the dungeon too long after the injury and it had been too late to straighten the fingers, the broken bones had already set.

“Warrick’s warriors are here for me, not you,” she assured Adara, “though you must remain hidden until they are gone.”

Adara’s eyes turned wide in question.

“Lord Craven would have it no other way,” Espy said and heard the pride in her own voice for her husband. There it was again… husband. She could only imagine how angry he would be when he found her gone, but again she pushed it aside, this matter more important.

“You are safe?” Adara dared to ask as if not quite believing it.

“I am.” Espy surprised herself with her quick response. She had not hesitated in the least. She was certain she was safe with Craven.

“I came here…” Adara let her words trail off as if they were not worth speaking.

“To be safe—”

Adara shook her head and waved her hand.

“Not to be safe?”

“Never safe,” Adara said, fear rising in her eyes.

Espy stepped closer. “I will make sure you are safe. You will stay here. No one will find you. I will bring you food and my grandmother will tend you. The bruising to your body could not have healed yet.”

Adara shuddered from the memories.

“We will talk, but not now. I must return to the keep and you must stay out of sight, at least until we are sure that Warrick’s warriors do not linger about.”

Adara nodded.

“I wish I could confide in my grandmother—”

Adara shook her head and waved her hand, warning her against it. “Not safe.” She shooed her off with her hand. “Go.”

Espy went to speak, but Adara shook her head and disappeared behind the boulder.

Espy knew there would be no coaxing her out from her hiding spot. She had suffered too much to fully trust anyone. She knew only a little about Adara, but it was enough to know that anyone who had ever claimed to love her had betrayed her.

She had once told Espy that she could live in Espy’s secret place forever, and Espy wondered if that was what she intended.

Darkness would settle over the land before she reached the keep, but it could not be helped. She would face whatever consequences awaited her. She would never have seen Adara returned to Warrick’s dungeons. The woman would have never survived another stay there.

She hurried to return to the keep. Craven was probably out searching for her and she hoped to return before he did. She thought about what excuse she could offer and the only viable one was that she felt the need to follow her grandmother, without her knowledge, to make sure she got home safely and unbothered. She did not know if Craven would accept the explanation, though she hoped he would, for she had nothing else to offer him.

Espy entered the stable as quietly as possible, no one being about. All were settled in their cottages for the night and with the roll of thunder overhead and the spattering of rain against the stable, it was where everyone would most likely remain.

She cringed when she saw Craven’s mare in her stall as she walked Trumble back to his. Night falling, no doubt, had forced Craven to end his search. Or had it been that he had found no tracks? Whatever the case, she would face an angry husband.

Husband.

She rested her cheek to Trumble’s face. “I have a husband, Trumble. One who does not want me, though I sometimes wonder if he knows what he wants, since grief consumes him. I cannot blame him. I saw my da wither away and die when he lost my mum. He simply could not live without her.” She patted the horse. “With love comes great joy and great sorrow. Perhaps I am lucky to know no such love.”

Trumble shook his head and pawed the ground, then stared off to the left.

Espy froze. She was not alone. Someone was here with her.