Light was just fading from the land when Slain walked through the village, his strides strong and his anger apparent. Mumbles and whispers followed him, as did the villagers. He paid them no heed, his thoughts on Potsman alone. His wife may have had sympathy for the drunken sot, but he did not.

“Potsman!” Slain shouted when he came to a stop in front of the man’s cottage. It was small and well-kept thanks to Wilona, since the worthless fool did nothing to help. He shouted his name again. “Potsman!”

The door creaked open and Wilona stood there, her eyes red from crying.

Slain’s anger grew that the man was such a coward he would send his wife to face him, but then Wilona was nudged out of the way and Potsman stepped out the door, Wilona following so close behind him that they looked as one.

Potsman stood with his shoulders drawn back. “I would beg for forgiveness, my chief, but what I did was unforgiveable. I deserve whatever punishment you inflict on me.”

Potsman was soberer than Slain had ever seen him and far cleaner as well, no foul odor emanating from him, but that only infuriated Slain more since it had come at the expense of his wife’s suffering.

Wilona went to step forward to speak, but Potsman stuck out his arm, stopping her, and whispered something over his shoulder. She remained as she was, though tears pooled in her eyes.

“I am sorry for hurting Hannah, for she has been nothing but kind and gracious since her arrival here, and it is good you have found such a fine woman to take as your wife.”

“How generous of you, Potsman.”

Everyone turned, except Slain. He rolled his eyes to the heavens at the sound of his wife’s voice. The woman had far too strong a mind of her own. But was that not what he loved about her?

Love.

He had been struggling with the thought since he had left her the night before last after they had coupled for the first time. Though they had not coupled, they had made love, and having been separated from her for a mere day had made him realize that, whether he wanted to admit it or not. Love. It was something he was still trying to come to grips with and this matter did not help any.

He had failed to be here and protect her and now he wanted to make it right. He wanted his revenge.

Slain heard people shuffling behind him, clearing a path for Hannah to join him and he knew next he would hear her speak.

“I explained the unfortunate accident to Slain,” Hannah said as she stepped beside her husband and took his hand. “He knows you meant me no harm.”

“I would never harm you. I would lay down my life for you if necessary,” Potsman said with a sincerity that touched Hannah’s heart.

“A fitting punishment,” Slain said, wrapping his fingers tightly around his wife’s hand.

Hannah spoke up. “But not at all necessary.”

Silence fell over the crowd, hearing Hannah all but correct her husband.

“Your chief knows mistakes are made and mistakes can be forgiven,” Hannah said, thinking of her own mistake of not telling Slain the truth before they wed and fearing the consequences.

Though they had not known each other very long, she could not imagine life without Slain. Somehow he had filled a void in her, an emptiness she had not known she had until she had met him. The thought of life without him frightened her and realizing that now frightened her even more, since she may have no future at all with him.

Slain remained silent, wondering over her words and if they were meant for Potsman or herself. Had she made a mistake and feared to tell him? But what mistake? She certainly had been agreeable enough when they made love, so it could not be that. And he did not believe that she regretted their marriage, since she seemed to have planted herself firmly in it, wanting to get busy making changes to the keep.

“Mistakes can be forgiven, unless they are grievous,” Slain said and thought he felt her body gasp, but she quickly shook her head as if shaking it away.

“It is good then that this incident is not grievous,” she said with a slight smile, fighting off the wince that rose up to grab at her.

The crowd remained silent, waiting to see if the new bride of the Chief of Clan MacKewan could contain the savage.

Slain stared at Potsman, his dark eyes smoldering, ready to ignite at any moment. “You will report to Imus in the morning and help with the work on the keep door. You will continue to work on the keep until I say otherwise.”

“Aye. Aye, my chief,” Potsman said with a look of pure shock.

Wilona nodded vigorously behind him, her own expression one of shock as well.

Hannah was pleased with her husband’s wise decision to keep Potsman busy working on the keep so that he would be too busy to drink, at least as much as he usually did.

What happened next stunned everyone, leaving them open-mouthed and staring.

Slain moved with such speed no one knew what happened until it was over and Potsman lay on the ground, blood flowing from his mouth and his lip, and his jaw swelling so badly he would be lucky if he could eat or drink for days.

“Touch my wife again and I will kill you… and not slowly.”

Hannah’s breath caught along with the crowd’s and she got the distinct feeling there was more to her husband’s warning that they understood than she did.

He took her hand and the crowd parted once again to let them both pass this time.

Hannah felt the blood on his knuckles but said nothing until they left the village. “Your hand is bleeding.”

“Aye, and it feels good, though he deserved much more.”

What did she deserve for deceiving him? She would know soon enough since she did not intend to let any more time pass without telling him. The burden of the truth had become too heavy for her to carry or perhaps it was the possible consequences that burdened her the most.

Hannah planned on speaking to her husband alone as soon as they entered the keep, but her plans went astray when she saw that Helice had food waiting for them and her husband made it quite clear that she was to eat.

The hot broth Helice had made for her was tasty, though she had to force herself to drink it since her stomach rolled in waves of worry.

“You barely sip the broth. Does it pain you to do so?” Slain asked, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice, since it was not meant for her.

“No, the broth causes me no pain,” she said, “though what does pain me is that I woke alone yesterday morning and today, and you left no word of where you went or when you would return.”

“It does not concern you,” Slain said, turning his attention to the stew in front of him.

“You are my husband and anything that takes you away from our bed concerns me,” she said, laying a gentle hand on his arm and managing a soft smile without wincing.

Slain loved when she smiled whether softly or exuberantly it did not matter, and that she should bear pain to do so made him want to make Potsman suffer even more. Though, what touched his heart and stirred him to arousal was that she had missed him in their bed.

Their bed.

That he shared his bed with her, wanted to share it with her, continued to surprise him. He had given no thought to falling in love, had no time for it. Yet love had struck him whether he wanted it to or not. It had hit him hard, harder than he had ever thought possible. And while his first instinct was to fight it, he had soon learned that it would be a battle that would know no victory for him.

He turned to her and whether it was a wish on her part or real, she thought she saw a spark of love in his dark eyes. It had been brief, but she had seen it or was it that she believed strongly enough that she had, which propelled her to speak before giving thought to her words?

“You have stolen my heart, though I gladly give it to you, for my love for you runs deep.”

Slain stared at her, shocked that she felt as he did and that she had the courage to admit it.

Hannah shook her head. “I do not know when I fell in love with you or even why. I only know that my heart beats ever faster when you are near and flutters fill my stomach, and I want to forever hug you close, forever make love with you, forever be with you.”

Slain went to speak when Helice entered the room.

“The healer is here, wondering if Hannah requires her skill,” Helice said.

While Slain did not want to lose this special moment with Hannah, he also did not want his wife’s injury to go unattended and possibly turn worse. Reluctantly, he said, “Bring Neata here.”

Hannah was disappointed. That was until her husband spoke.

“We will resume this discussion later, for there is much I have to say to you, wife.” Slain placed an ever so gentle kiss on her cheek.

It did not take Neata long to let Slain know that Hannah was fine and only time would heal her injury.

“I will tell Helice to make a comfrey poultice for you to help with the bruising. For tonight, I advise rest and sleep,” Neata said.

Hannah covered her mouth and her wince at the unexpected yawn that took hold, confirming Neata’s counsel.

“She will rest,” Slain said as if he commanded it.

“I would have come to you sooner, but I was attending a birth at a nearby croft and only learned of it upon my return,” Neata said. “I am surprised Helice did not already treat your wound with a comfrey poultice.”

“I did not tell her about it,” Hannah confessed.

Neata shook her head. “Helice may have a prickly nature, but she is a good woman and knows well the healing ways. Trust her.” After a gentle pat on Hannah’s shoulder, Neata took her leave.

Hannah hoped to resume her discussion with her husband, but Helice appeared once again to let him know he had a message.

“Finish your broth and go to our bedchamber and rest. I will join you when I can.” Slain kissed her cheek and walked off with Helice.

Hannah could not stem her annoyance. Where did these sudden messages come from and why did they always seem to take him away from her? The thought that he would be gone again annoyed her all the more. There were things she needed to discuss with him before he discovered them on his own.

She ignored his order to finish her broth. Instead, she hurried off to his solar to let him know that she would wait in the Great Hall for him. She stopped abruptly not far from the door, having heard voices. He was not alone. The voices were low and barely distinguishable. Helice had told Slain a message awaited him, but it was a messenger who had delivered it.

Mysterious comings and goings, messages at all hours, visitors as well, and the locked east wing had her curious to learn what exactly was going on.

“He is busy. I can relate a message for you,” Helice said, causing Hannah to jump from the woman’s sudden presence.

Hannah turned to face Helice. “You know what goes on here. Why keep it from me?”

“Why keep the truth from your husband?” Helice countered.

Hannah was in no mood for the woman’s contentious nature. “Say and think what you will, Helice. I want nothing more than to see my husband kept safe so that we may share a decent life together.”

Her own words were nothing more than, wishes, hopes, and dreams. But wishes, hopes, and dreams had been what helped her through this difficult time and she would not let go of them now.

She continued, since Helice remained silent. “I will be in our bedchamber resting… as he commanded.”

“A wise choice, since he would be upset if you suffered any more than you already have.”

Hannah left Helice standing guard by the door to Slain’s solar.

Her feet took the stone stairs slowly as her mind swirled with thoughts. Helice remained a mystery to her. She kept a watchful eye on Slain and seemed protective of him, but was it a ruse? Helice had warned her to not go deep into the woods that day she had heard one of the clan betraying Slain. Hannah had wondered then as she did now if Helice had known about it, hence the warning. Slain had also warned her not to go into the woods alone. Could it possibly be that Helice and Slain both knew of what was going on there?

Hannah dropped down on the bed after entering the room. There was far too much going on here that she did not know about, Melvin, one of her father’s trusted warriors being one of them. There was a good chance Melvin would return or—God forbid—her step-brother would show up, the message Melvin returned with not to Nial’s liking. She had to tell Slain who she was, she had to before it was too late.

She changed into her nightdress, intending to wait for her husband. She would tell him everything then and face whatever consequences befell her. And whether wise or not, she was glad she had told him that she loved him. She hoped he felt the same since she believed, wanted desperately to believe, that love was strong enough to conquer evil, not that her mother would agree.

Or would she?

Her mum had warned her endlessly about foolishly losing her heart and the disappointment of love. Yet there were times, rare as they were, that her mum had spoken about love differently and Hannah often wondered what had happened to have her mum be so disappointed by love.

Hannah stretched out on the bed, hoping to stay awake to speak with her husband. If not, she would certainly wake when he slipped into bed with her and she would have a chance to speak with him then. She drifted off soon after cuddling beneath the warm wool blanket.

* * *

Slain sat alone drinking in his solar. The message he had received was a good one. All was going according to plan. It would not be long now before he had his revenge. Nothing could stop it.

Love.

He had planned for everything but love. He had long known that he might not survive the battle that was brewing and had made arrangements for his clan’s protection if it proved necessary. He would gladly die revenging his father and clan’s honor. That was until he met Hannah and lost his heart to her.

Now death was something he was not yet ready to meet. He wanted a life with Hannah. He wanted to have children with her, laugh and love with her, and grow old with her. He wanted what he had seen his mum and da had once shared, and had once thought not possible for himself… family and a love that grew through the years.

He stretched his feet out by the fire. He fought the desire to go upstairs to his bedchamber and join his wife in bed, take her in his arms, hold her close, and…

He shook his head. She needed rest. She did not need to be worn out even more by making love and that was what would happen if he slipped in bed with her. It was not his own aching passion that concerned him, for he could contain it. At least he had with other women, he was not so sure about that when it came to his wife. Especially since she had proven to enjoy making love so much. She held back nothing and gave everything. She was more than he could have ever dreamed of or hoped for, she was an amazing, courageous, and loving woman. And she belonged to him and always would, as he always would belong to her. They were one now and never to be parted.

He would have his revenge and he would fight to stay alive for his wife and the future they would have together.

* * *

Hannah grew annoyed when she once again woke to an empty bed the next morning. Her husband was neglecting his husbandly duties and she intended to let him know that it was not acceptable. She hurried into her garments and with a quick comb of her hair that did little to tame the fiery, stubborn curls, she rushed out of the room in search of her husband.

She did not have to go far. She found him in the Great Hall. Her steps stilled and familiar flutters filled her stomach when she saw him. Where her red hair was wild and free, his dark hair lay tamed just above his shoulders and while it was hard muscles he wore beneath his garments, it was strength and dignity that he carried for all to see.

His smile when he looked upon her stole her heart all over again and when he stretched his arms out to her, she ran into them.

Slain had grown impatient waiting for her to wake. It had been too long since he had last held her and his arms had felt the emptiness of her absence. Now with her wrapped close around him, he felt whole. Something he had thought he would never feel again.

“You are feeling well?” he asked, after placing a kiss on her forehead.

She honestly had not given thought to her injury, since waking. She had been too annoyed to find her husband absent from their bed to pay it any mind. “I would feel better if my husband did not neglect his husbandly duties,” she said with a soft smile and felt some discomfort, which to her meant her injury had improved some.

Slain could not keep his smile from growing. That she was more concerned he had not joined her last night than her injury squeezed at his heart. He did so love this woman and he wanted her to know it, but he held his tongue when he saw her smile fade.

She rested her hand to his cheek. “Promise me you will always seek our bed each night no matter what happens between us.”

Slain turned his face just enough so that his lips brushed her palm. “That is an easy promise to give and an easier one to keep, wife.” He was pleased when her smile returned and he placed a gentle kiss on her lips.

His sudden scowl had her asking, “What is wrong?”

“I should have given Potsman more than one punch for robbing me of the one thing I love to do the most.”

“What is that?” Hannah asked with a curious scrunch of her brow.

“Kiss you,” Slain said and placed another tender kiss on her lips.

“Though,” Hannah said with fiery spark in her green eyes, “there are other places than the lips you can kiss.”

Slain laughed. “You are a wicked woman.”

“And I do hope you are a wicked man.”

Her suggestive whisper aroused him and he had to fight against his mounting desire not to scoop her up and rush her to their bedchamber. “You tempt me, wife,” he warned playfully.

“My intentions,” she said proudly.

He eased her toward the bench. “You need to eat,”

“I need the nourishment you can give me more.”

“Later,” he whispered.

“Now,” she insisted.

“Your injury—”

“Is far less painful than my need for you,” she begged.

“Hannah—”

She went up on her toes to press her cheek to his and whispered, “Please, husband, I need you.”

It was impossible to deny her soft pleas and besides, he wanted her as much she did him. Why deny themselves?

“You will not kiss me anywhere,” he ordered when she moved away from his cheek to look at him with pleading and playful eyes.

She frowned.

“It is that or nothing,” he said, “and just so you know, it is as difficult for me to order that as it is for you to obey it.”

Hannah’s frown quickly turned to a smile, his words pleasing her. “I will obey your command… for now.”

Slain hugged her tight. “I do love you, wife.”

Hannah felt her breath catch and her heart soar. He loved her. He truly loved her, she could not be any happier and her grin showed it.

“Stop smiling so wide when it pains you,” Slain ordered, a slight wince marring her brow. “I love you, wife, and I will tell you that often so you never forget it. You broke past the shield I kept over my heart and stole it without me knowing, and I am so very pleased that you did.” His hand brushed over her bruise so faintly it could barely be felt. “And I am so sorry for not being here to protect you.”

“We love each other. That is all that matters,” Hannah said filled with more joy than she ever imagined possible.

“It is all that will ever matter,” Slain said and kissed her cheek.

“I ache for those lips of yours to kiss me in other places,” Hannah whispered teasingly.

“I will gladly and most enjoyably satisfy that ache, wife.” He went to scoop her up in his arms when a bell tolled loudly, followed by a pounding on the door.

“Stay here,” he ordered Hannah and looked past her. “Make sure she stays here.”

Hannah did not care what order he gave her or Helice, she intended to see for herself what was happening. She rushed behind her husband before Helice could reach out and grab her.

Slain threw open the door to find Imus and several clansmen standing there, swords and axes in hand. Imus whispered something to him and Slain nodded, turned, and took Hannah’s hand to step outside with her.

Hannah’s joy was washed away by fear. A short distance away a troop of warriors approached and in the lead was her step-brother Nial.