Two days and Adara had barely seen her husband, not that she minded that he left her alone, especially in their bedchamber. He had not shared their bed since their arrival and it left her wondering since he had informed her that he would. It also kept her on edge at night, lying there waiting to see if he would enter the room and join her in bed. Sometimes when she woke in the middle of the night she would carefully turn to see if he was there, but she continued to find an empty spot beside her.

Had she done something wrong? Was that why he seemed to avoid her?

She shook the nagging thoughts away. What difference did it make? Warrick did as he pleased. He answered to no one. The problem was that she had had a taste of the same and she favored it. Hers days had been her own since discovering she was Owen MacVarish’s niece and after having tended to others from before sunrise to after sunset since she had been young, she had cherished every one of them.

Her uncle Owen had, however, insisted she learn about the running of the clan and the keep. He told her that she knew all too well from experience that life was unpredictable, ever changing, and that some people we think we can count on to help may not always be able to.

He had been right about that. She had learned to adapt more often than she had cared to, having been sent from one family to another. She did here what she had done countless times before… adapted. She got to know the clan’s people and had slowly grown comfortable around them, though conversation with them had remained limited. Many faces had become familiar to her while others she knew by name, and all would bob their head, smile, or call out a greeting to her. In the last two days, however, they seemed to avoid her. She understood why, she had brought the Demon Lord down upon them and they were fearful of the future.

It was near to mid-day and she had not seen her husband since early morning when she had caught a glance of him leaving the Great Hall. She had enjoyed a quiet meal and had retired to a small room on the first floor that had fallen to neglect after Uncle Owen’s wife, Corliss, had died. He had encouraged her to use it, having had it cleaned and prepared for her, insisting his wife would be happy to know another woman got as much pleasure from it as she had.

There was where she spent many enjoyable hours stitching. Stitching had been one chore that she had enjoyed and had become proficient at. It also was the one thing that had helped her accept that she was with child.

Fear had been her first thought when she had realized, shortly after settling into MacVarish keep, that she carried the Demon Lord’s bairn. She had no idea at the time what she would do. There had been no thought to return to Warrick, the idea, itself, prickling her skin with fear. She never wanted to be anywhere near that horrid dungeon again.

It was when she had sat down one day in this room with some scraps of cloth the weavers had given her and began to stitch a garment for the child that a smile had surfaced on her face. The tiny, innocent bairn growing inside was not to blame for anything, and she would protect him, care for him, love him like she had never been loved.

She felt a strong flutter, then another, and she laughed softly as she patted her stomach. “You have had enough sitting. I will work on your garment later, though I believe you will like it. It is the softest of wool, but for now we walk.”

Adara stepped out of the keep to find the day overcast. It did not look nor feel like rain, but one could never tell. The air held a chill and she was glad for her wool cloak. It would keep her and the bairn warm.

She rarely left the keep through the front doors. She preferred taking the narrow passage that led out to the kitchen. Not that she entered the kitchen. She took the door to the left, just before the entrance to the kitchen, that led outside, avoiding most everyone. She saw that Burchard was tending the kitchen garden, seeing to the last of the plants before harvest. They talked on occasion and she was pleased when he waved to her and walked toward her.

He was a man of many years, his gait slow, his fingers gnarled from endless work, and a perpetual smile framed by an abundance of wrinkles.

“All is well with you, my lady?” he asked as she approached.

Adara felt uncomfortable with the title upon first hearing it. It did not seem right. It did not fit her, and yet it had become hers upon marriage.

“I am well, Burchard and you? And where is Langdon, he does not help you today?” she asked a soft smile on her face and thinking he could use the help.

“Langdon is busy elsewhere today and I am well. I only hope I do well, my lady,” he said, bobbing his head. “Many changes coming. Many.”

While he continued to smile, Adara saw worry in his aged eyes and attempted to reassure him. “You have nothing to fear, Burchard.”

“I hope, my lady, I do hope,” he said, his bobbing head suddenly going stiff and fear replaced worry in his eyes. He turned away from her without a word and hurried back to work.

When Adara turned, she saw two of Warrick’s warriors, draped in their shrouds standing there watching Burchard.

Adara did not know where the foolish courage came from, perhaps it was instinct to protect an old man, and without hesitation she approached the two warriors.

“Go about your business and leave this man alone,” Adara snapped at them.

They stood there, unmoving, the hoods of their shrouds covering down to the tips of their noses, making their near faceless heads even more intimidating.

“Go away,” she ordered more sternly.

“They take orders only from me.”

Adara jolted as she turned at the sound of her husband’s deep, commanding voice. He did not wear a shroud, yet he was more intimidating than his warriors who did. His imposing presence, the defiant tilt of his chin, the way he commanded, demanded from all those around overpowered and made one back away from him… usually.

This time Adara did not back away, she approached him, the overwhelming sense to protect the old man who brought harm to none too intense to ignore.

“Then tell them to leave, there is nothing for them here.”

Warrick brought his face down close to hers. “You do not dictate to me, wife.”

Adara warned herself to hold her tongue, but it was too late, words were already rushing past her lips. “Why are they here?”

“That does not concern you.”

A voice inside cautioned her to stop, say no more. Be obedient as she had always been. She did not listen. “It most certainly does. This is my clan and I will see no one harmed.”

“This clan belongs to me as do you.”

Chattel. That was all she was to him. That was all she ever was to anyone.

Changes. Many changes coming.

Burchard was right. There were many changes coming and she could not stop them. She could, however, defend Burchard the best she could.

“He is an old man. He can harm none. Why do they watch him?”

“That is not your concern,” Warrick repeated, annoyed that she continued to defy him yet admired her courage as misplaced as it was.

A sudden irritation pushed past all sound reason and had her saying, “You are insufferable.” Adara cringed as she saw his hand swing up and she braced herself for the blow.

She was shocked when his whole body wrapped around her, cocooning her against him as he dropped to the ground, and turning her as they went down so he would take the brunt of the fall. Then he let out a roar that she could have sworn trembled the earth.

Once they hit the ground, he rolled them to their sides, keeping her body encased in his arms and planted solidly against him.

Shouts and pounding footfalls rushed past them while others came to a stop behind Warrick, forming a line, shielding them.

From what? she wondered.

“Are you harmed?” Warrick asked, keeping her tucked against him.

“I do not believe so.” Before she could ask him what happened, shouts rang out. He suddenly lifted her to her feet, keeping one arm around her waist and holding her firm.

Warrick placed his hand on her stomach, his body riddled with fury that his wife or child could have been harmed. “Are you sure? I feel no movement.”

“He makes himself known only when he wants to,” she said and thought how much he was like his da.

“I will send for Espy.”

Adara shook her head. “It is not necessary. You shielded me well. The bairn and I are unharmed.” She hoped to reassure him, but the anger mixed with worry remained in his dark eyes.

His warriors parted and Warrick turned, calling out to Roark as he approached. “Do not tell me that you failed to catch him.”

“He is dead,” Roark said, stopping in front of Warrick.

Catch who? Who is dead, thought Adara.

“Now we will learn nothing. Who is the fool who killed him?”

“He killed himself.”

“He chose death over capture.”

“The sign of an assassin.”

Had she heard Roark correctly? Did he say assassin? And who was the assassin’s target?

Roark summoned one of the nearby warriors and the man stepped forward and handed him two arrows.

“He got off two—”

“I heard three,” Warrick interrupted.

Adara stared at the arrows. Someone had tried to kill Warrick?

Roark nodded to the warrior and he hurried off. He held up the arrows. “They were made to resemble ours.”

“I am getting close and someone does not like it,” Warrick said, his voice low.

“Close to what?” Adara asked unable to remain quiet any longer, feeling vulnerable not understanding what was happening.

Both men’s eyes fell on Adara as if they had just realized she was there.

Warrick ignored her question and turned to Roark. “The trackers?”

“They have been sent and the men scour the area.”

“Find something,” Warrick ordered and with a nod Roark walked off, the warriors who had been standing nearby following him.

Questions filled Adara’s head but she had no time to ask even one, Warrick rushing her inside the keep into the Great Hall.

“You will stay here until I return for you,” he ordered and turned to leave her.

Her hand shot out, grabbing his arm, her fingers locking firmly around it.

Warrick’s head snapped around, his eyes settling on her hand, the strength of it gripping him tight as if she did not want to let him go. But that was not likely. More likely it was fear not favor, she held for him.

“What happened out there?” she asked, fighting the tremor she felt building inside her.

“It does not—”

Adara stepped closer to him, her grip on his arm growing tighter. “Please, Warrick, do not leave me ignorant of the truth.” The tremor she was fighting claimed victory and instinctively she sought the protection of her husband’s powerful arms, stepping closer and collapsing against him.

Warrick’s arms went around her and scooped her up. He went and sat on a bench close to the fire, keeping her cradled in his arms. She was not unharmed. She had been left shocked and frightened by the incident, and it did not help that she would be left ignorant of the situation.

He slipped his hand beneath her cloak and rubbed and squeezed her arm, letting his strength soak in and chase her tremble away.

While her husband could still put fear in her, how was it that she had also found solace in his arms? How had it become so instinctive for her to do so? Had it been memories of the one night they had spent together where surprisingly she had found comfort and contentment in his arms, his touch, his kiss? Did she long to share that time again with him?

“I should send for Espy to be sure you and the bairn are well,” he said.

Adara sighed softly. “No, I had a bit of a fright, but your arms chased that away and continue to give me and the bairn all the comfort we need.”

Adara did something that no one had ever done to Warrick. She stunned him speechless. He might believe she sought his arms for protection but that she sought them for comfort stunned him even more.

She raised her head off his chest. “Please tell me what goes on. Who were those arrows meant for?”

He hesitated, not wanting the evil and danger that seemed forever to haunt him touch her but keeping her completely ignorant would not help either. “Me,” he finally said.

She felt as if a hand squeezed at her heart and she did not know where she got the breath to ask, “Why?’

He felt a shudder run through her and her hand hurried to rest on his arm as if in protection, both caring gestures. The thought both disturbed and pleased him. It also made him decide that while he would not tell her all of it, he would at least not leave her ignorant of the problem, since there was a strong possibility that more attempts would be made.

“What I share with you can be shared with no one,” he said.

She nodded. “You have my word I will say nothing.”

“I search for someone and I believe that I am getting close and that someone does not want to be found. Do not ask me who is it. That is not something I will tell you.”

“Is this the first attempt someone has made to,” —a shiver interrupted her words— “take your life?”

“To purposely plan to take my life, aye, that it is. There have been numerous attempts in battle but they always failed.”

That death was ever his companion frightened her and she hurried to say, “You must be careful.” The silent words in her head that followed surprised her. The bairn and I need you.

Was that heartfelt concern he heard in her voice and showed in her dark blues eyes?

Did she actually care for him?

That was not possible. She feared him too much to care and what did it matter if she did. He could not let her distract him.

Where the words came from that kept spilling from Adara’s lips, she did not know, either did she know what caused the pangs to her heart. “Promise me. Promise me you will be careful.”

The caring in her soft, gentle voice took hold of him, chasing all sound reason away, leaving him with only one thought.

He kissed her, brief at first, a mere brush of his lips across hers, before devouring her lips with his.

Forever.

That was how it felt since he had last kissed her and why he was so hungry for her now. Still it didn’t feel like enough. He needed more, wanted more, ached for it. He caught hold of his soaring thoughts and grew annoyed at his aching loins. Both had him bringing the kiss to a gentle end.

This would not do. He would bed her and be done with it, satisfy this lust for her that had been growing since their arrival here. Or had it been since their wedding night?

“Promise me,” she whispered a mere breath away from his lips.

He was about to ask what promise when he recalled what she wanted from him… to be careful.

“You have my word, wife,” he said and could not resist to seal his promise with a tender kiss.

“My lord.”

Warrick turned his head as did Adara to see Roark standing a short distance from them.

Warrick got annoyed that he had been so engrossed with Adara that he had not heard Roark approach. That would not do. It would not do at all.

“We found something,” Roark said.