“You are sure of this?’ Craven asked, handing her a goblet of wine before sitting in the chair beside her in the solar after hours spent handling the Ober incident.

“It was dark and while I did not get a good look at his face, I did his eyes. They were wide, the white standing out in the darkness and they were filled with a sense of glee as if he was pleased to be delivering the women for torture.” She shook her head. “I do not know why I had not seen it before, though maybe my memory was spurred by Adara being here as well. It makes some sense now. He brought her to Warrick’s dungeon believing she would die there and he shows up here along with that woman and Adara’s life is threatened again.”

“Adara must know something very important that someone wants her dead.”

“We have to find her,” Espy said, worry creasing her brow.

“My warriors are trying, though whoever did this to Ober escapes us as well. No tracks could be found anywhere.” Craven’s brow scrunched for a moment, then turned wide. “Do you think Adara could have done this to Ober?”

Espy was about to shake her head and stopped.

“You are thinking what I thought. She stabbed the woman, why not Ober?”

Espy thought back to the young woman she had tended in the small cell. She had been frightened beyond belief, saying over and over again that she had done nothing wrong. Nothing. She did what she was told. She always did what she was told… or she would suffer for it.

She never confided any more than that to Espy, though she would listen in silence as Espy spoke of her home with her grandmother and her secret cottage. It had been the only thing that had calmed her.

“If Adara is at fault, then she did it to protect herself.” Espy shook her head again, refusing to believe it. “I do not think she did this. Besides, what did Ober mean by lies? His last word and he says lies? What was he trying to tell us? I also wonder if MacPeters was connected with this in some way.”

“MacPeters?” Craven questioned as if it made no sense. “That would mean it has something to do with Aubrey’s murder. But how could Adara in any way be connected with Aubrey’s murder?”

Espy shrugged. “I have not a clue, though it seems strange that both the man claiming to be MacPeters and Ober both were murdered. Could they both have known something that someone did not want made known?”

Craven grinned at her. “I can just imagine how you must have driven your parents and grandmother mad with endless questions when you were a young lass.”

“They encouraged my questions,” she said and laughed, “lucky for me.”

“At least, I have forewarning before you give me a daughter with your inquisitive nature. I will be prepared to answer all her question and the ones I cannot, I will tell her to take to you.” He liked the thought of having a daughter who would resemble her mum in more ways than features. Espy was an intelligent and courageous woman and he would love for his daughter or daughters to be the same.

“What if it is a son who has my traits?” she challenged.

“Then he will lead the Clan MacCara with more wisdom than previous chieftains,” Craven said proudly.

Espy bounced forward in her chair. “I think we should go see about starting our family right now.”

“I think we have been doing that since I first made love to you,” he said with a chuckle.

“Hmm…” Espy tapped her chin. “If I remember correctly, you had me pleasure you first… in the barn.”

Craven stood and leaned over Espy, forcing her back in the chair as he gripped the arms. “Aye, since it had been too long since I had spilled my seed and I did not want to disappoint you, but…” He leaned down in front of her. “I can pleasure you now and ignore my own need.”

Craven did not wait for her to respond, he slipped his hand under her skirt and along her inner thigh.

Espy shuddered at the feel of his fingers inching their way to between her legs, squeezing and caressing as he went. She did not want him to ignore his own pleasure, but then she did not believe he would be able to, so she let herself get lost in his teasing touch.

She jolted a bit when he slipped his finger inside her and again when his thumb grazed her sensitive nub.

“You like that, wife?” he asked on a whisper and slipped another finger inside her, and she gasped. He slipped his arm around her waist to yank her forward and she gasped again, though his mouth caught it as his lips came down on hers.

He teased her unmercifully, not only with his fingers but his tongue as well until she was on the verge of climax. “Inside me, I want you inside me,” she begged.

“No, you will come for me like this, since it is to make up for you having pleasured me,” Craven said.

“You had a good reason,” she all but cried out when his thumb worked its magic on her pulsating nub.

“As I do now,” he said, getting pleasure out of watching her build toward, what he intended to make sure was, more than one climax.

“Please, Craven,” she pleaded.

“Later,” he said.

“Now,” she demanded and her eyes turned wide. “Think of our bairn.”

Craven stopped, his own eyes turning wide. “Are you with child?”

She shook her head. “No and I will continue to be barren if you do not come inside me.”

He wanted to ignore her words and bring her to pleasure, but their talk of future children, remembering his own siblings and the keep being full of laughter, had him aching to hear the sounds of happy children running through it once again.

Craven yanked her out of the chair and she pushed his plaid aside as he sat her on his lap, piercing her gently with his shaft.

Espy wrapped her arms around his neck and before kissing him, whispered, “Plant a strong, strapping bairn, just like his da, inside me.”

He kissed her and in no time they came together in a powerful climax that most certainly took root.

* * *

Early the next morning Craven received an urgent summons from Owen, asking that Craven come with haste. That was where he was on his way now, to MacVarish keep, his wife riding alongside him. She had refused to be left behind, insisting that Owen might need tending, though Craven knew it was an excuse. She was curious as to why Owen summoned her husband with such urgency.

Craven did not mind, though, he always preferred his wife at his side. It was where she belonged.

When they approached the village and Craven caught sight of a troop of about twenty warriors camped on the outskirts of the village, he signaled his warriors with an abrupt shake of his hand. Some of his warriors broke off and rode toward the troop and took up guard around them.

“Something is wrong?’ Espy asked.

“A precaution,” Craven said but felt uneasy. “You will remain by my side at all times while we are here.”

Espy nodded and as they rode through the village, it became even more apparent that something had happened. The people mumbled and turned worried eyes on Craven. Something was wrong. Dreadfully wrong.

Owen MacVarish looked much better, though he was a bit pale when Espy and Craven entered the Great Hall. He did not wait for Craven to reach him, he hurried to his side.

Owen grabbed Craven’s arm. “I do not believe he tells me the truth and I do not know what to do. Documents have already been signed, but now…” Owen shook his head. “This cannot be happening. It cannot be happening.”

“The old chieftain is having a difficult time accepting the truth.”

Craven and Espy turned to a man who had entered the Great Hall. He stood more than a head less than Craven, his body slim, his features pronounced, similar to that of the physician MacPeters. His dark hair matched his dark eyes and his green and yellow plaid, and white linen shirt wore no grime. And he held a rolled parchment in his hand.

“Who are you?” Craven demanded.

“I am Penley, husband of Owen MacVarish’s niece Aubrey and heir to the Clan MacVarish and all its holdings.”

Espy stared at the man, thinking she had not heard him correctly. He was claiming to be Aubrey’s husband. That could not be possible and she shook her head along with Owen, who appeared perplexed himself.

Not so Craven.

“What proof do you have of this?” Craven demanded, trying to contain the anger that had surged in him upon hearing the man claim Aubrey had been his wife. It was not something he would believe. It was not something he wanted to believe.

Penley raised his hand, waving the rolled parchment he held in it. “I went to fetch this to prove to Owen that I speak the truth. Aubrey was my wife and since he claimed Aubrey his heir to the Clan MacVarish that would leave me heir when Owen passes.”

Craven held his hand out to Penley, forcing the man to come to him and give him the proof.

Penley pasted a forced smile on his face and approached Craven, handing him the parchment. “You will see it is a valid document, signed and a proper seal affixed.”

Craven pulled the tie from around the parchment and rolled it out. His eyes narrowed as he said, “What is this?”

“My apologies, but the young scribe wrote it in Latin,” Penley said with a smug smile.

“That presents no problem,” Espy said, leaning over her husband’s arm to glance at the document. “I love reading Latin. It is such an old and beautiful language.”

Craven stopped a smile from springing to his face. His wife was a wonder and he was so very proud of her.

“This does say you wed Aubrey before the eyes of God and man a year prior to when Craven and Aubrey wed.” She did not mention the seal was official, her husband would see that for himself.

Craven shoved the document back at Penley. “If she was your wife why would she leave you and why did it take you so long to come for her?”

“I was called away, a matter I had to deal with for the Crown. It took longer than I expected and when I returned Aubrey was gone. There were matters to settle at home before I could begin my search for her. At first, I thought she took up residence at an abbey. Not finding her there, I continued on here, having recalled her telling me of her uncle Owen, her mother’s brother.” He bowed his head slightly. “It broke my heart to learn of her passing, though it was nothing of the shock I felt of learning she had wed another. Of course, it was an invalid marriage, since she was not free to wed.”

“Owen will require more proof than the document alone,” Craven said and Owen nodded, confirming Craven’s demand. “You will need to produce the person who signed your document so that he may give us his word.”

Anger flared in Penley’s eyes. “The document should be sufficient proof.”

“A document has already been signed granting me the Clan MacVarish and all its holdings. I will not see that nullified without proof positive of what you claim,” Craven warned. “Since you made mention of attending to the matter for the Crown, I am sure someone there would agree that until solid proof is produced this matter cannot be settled. Though, perhaps I should ask my friend Warrick to speak to his friends at court.”

Espy could have sworn she felt a shiver of fear run through the room at the mention of Warrick’s name and she believed it even more so when she saw how badly Penley paled.

“I will send a missive immediately with your demand,” Penley said, “though I plan on remaining here until he arrives to protect what is rightfully mine.”

“I have given you no permission to camp on my property,” Craven said.

“I am sure Owen would not mind me staying here until this matter is settled,” Penley said with a nod to the old man.

“It is not for Owen to decide,” Craven said. “Did you not hear me? The Clan MacVarish and all its holdings have been granted to me. It is mine. You are on my land.”

Penley looked as if someone had just lanced him with a sword he appeared so shocked. He turned to Owen, though he was unable to speak.

“It is as Lord Craven says. He is now chieftain of the Clan MacVarish, all belongs to him,” Owen confirmed. “You will need to seek permission from him to remain here or anything to do with this matter.”

Penley found his voice, though an angry tremor ran through it when he spoke. “I request permission to remain here while this matter is being reviewed.”

“I will not give you permission to remain here,” Craven said and raised his hands to silence Penley when he went to protest. “You and your men will camp on the outskirts of the MacCara village where my warriors will keep watch over you.”

“We are prisoners?’ Penley asked insulted.

“Only if you give me reason,” Craven warned.

“I have no fight with you, Lord Craven,” Penley said.

“You would be wise to keep it that way,” Craven urged. “Ready your men to leave, while I speak privately with Owen.”

Anger shot like arrows from Penley’s eyes and he kept his lips clamped tightly shut as he acquiesced with a nod and turned to stomp out of the Great Hall.

“This cannot be true,” Owen said. “Aubrey was a kind and trustworthy woman. She would have never wed you if she had been wed to another.”

Craven wanted to believe that. He did not want to think that his marriage to Aubrey had been nothing more than a lie. That she had not been the woman he believed her to be.

It was Espy who spoke up in defense of Aubrey. “Of course, he lies. Aubrey was a kind soul. She never would have married that fool, let alone wed another when she was not free to do so. He lies that is all there is too it,” she said as if settling the matter there and then.

Owen smiled. “Now I know why Aubrey liked and admired you so much, but then my Aubrey knew a good and kind person when she met them.”

“Of course she did, that was why she never wed that fool and it is why she wed Craven.”

Owen looked to Craven, a tear in his eye, though a smile on his face. “You are a lucky man to have had two kind wives.” He laughed softly. “Most men cannot even find one.”

“I am grateful every day for the time I got to have Aubrey in my life and for fate bringing me Espy.” Craven smiled as Espy slipped into his arm that he stretched out to hook around her waist. She always drifted into his arms easily and eagerly and he loved having her there.

“I am glad you are not leaving Penley here. I do not trust him,” Owen said.

“Neither do I,” Craven said. “He will not be going anywhere without my permission.”

Owen bid Craven and Espy good-bye once outside the keep, thanking Craven profusely for all he had done for him. Owen’s relief had already spread through the clan or perhaps it was seeing that Craven’s warriors were escorting Penley’s troop away that had the villagers sending smiles and nods to Craven and at Espy as they took their leave.

Craven kept himself and Espy a distance behind his warriors who followed behind Penley and his troop with six of his warriors followed behind the two of them.

“May I ask you a question?” Espy asked cautiously.

Craven turned to her, surprised by the hesitation in her voice. “Need I remind you that you may ask me anything?”

“It is an intimate question concerning you and Aubrey.”

“I said anything and I meant it,” he assured her.

“Was Aubrey a virgin?”

“Aye, there was blood on the bedding. I remember Aubrey blushing because I had returned to our bedchamber unexpectedly and the servant lasses were removing the bedding to wash and they were giggling at the sight of the blood.”

“If that is so then—”

“Then Penley’s marriage, if there was one, was never consummated and is invalid,” Craven finished, “though I would have no proof of it.”

“You are an honorable man and your word respected. Besides, Aubrey got pregnant shortly after you wed, not so with Penley, and why would that be? They either were never husband and wife or he never consummated the marriage, invalidating it.”

“You truly are a wonder, wife,” Craven said, amazed at her intelligence and her resolve to help him prove Penley wrong.

“I love you too,” she said and leaned over to kiss him.

Craven quickly grabbed her waist before she toppled off Trumble, though the horse seemed to adjust as if attempting to keep her from falling as well. He kissed her with haste, then reluctantly eased her back safely in her saddle. Later they would have time alone and he looked forward to it.

“There is something else I took note of,” Espy said and Craven listened intently. “Owen said he lies, referring to Penley, and it reminded me of what Ober had said with his last breath… lies. I wonder if Penley killed Ober.”