“Show me,” Warrick ordered, walking around the table toward Roark.

Adara followed her husband, bumping into him when he stopped abruptly.

“Where do you think you are going?” Warrick demanded, turning to face her.

His face took on a scowl that easily intimidated and the familiar flush of fear raced through her, warning her to hold her tongue, step back, obey, as she had always done. Instead, she forced herself to say, “With you.”

“Absolutely not. You will remain here at the keep until I come for you,” he ordered.

“It might be advisable if you remained here as well, Warrick,” Roark said and ignoring the flash of annoyance in Warrick’s eyes continued explaining. “We found the dead warrior’s campsite and it appears that he was not alone. It also appears as if the camp has been there for at least two perhaps three weeks.”

“Well before our arrival in the area,” Warrick said and Roark agreed with a nod. “But how did they know I would be here? No one knew of my plans.”

Adara realized it before either of the two men did and said, “Me.”

“What would you have to do with it?” Roark asked.

“Bloody hell,” Warrick said, realizing what his wife meant. “Someone discovered you are my wife and knew I would eventually find you. So they camped here waiting.”

Roark shook his head. “Why not simply take her and force you to come for her?”

“That would reveal their identity and give me what I search for,” Warrick said. “Here they would remain concealed, lay in wait, and strike.” He turned to Adara. “Has anyone new joined your clan recently? Or has there been anyone who stopped and sought shelter for a night or two?”

“I do not know,” Adara said and it troubled her that she did not know. She had never given thought to what her solitude could mean to her clan. She should be familiar with all that went on in the clan. Had not her uncle tried to convey that to her by having her learn the workings of the keep? A thought came to her. “Wynn might know. She oversees the running of the keep and I often thought the village as well since she knows everything about everyone.” Another thought came to her. “Also Jaynce our healer might know something.”

“I will speak to both,” Warrick said, “but first I will take a look at this campsite.”

“At least wait until your warriors have combed a sufficient area before you take the chance of leaving yourself vulnerable,” Roark advised.

“Their attempt to kill me failed, which left them no recourse but to flee. It will take time for them to regroup or report to the person they are answerable to before they make another attempt. Besides, they also have left themselves vulnerable by failing. Now we know they exist and it is only a matter of time before one or all are caught, then I will have my answers.”

“As you say,” Roark said with a nod.

Adara slipped her small hand into Warrick’s large one, lacing her fingers with his and was pleased when his instinctively closed around hers firmly. She looked up at him. “I go with you.”

He gave a quick glance to her small hand encased in his and felt a kick to his gut and when he saw the plea—so aching, so tender—in her blue eyes, he felt a jab to his heart. Damn, what was it about this petite woman that caused such turmoil in him? Before he could deny her request, she spoke again, softly, for his ears alone.

“Please, Warrick, I feel safer with you.”

Another punch to his gut at her tender plea had him nearly cursing aloud, but he kept it contained to his thoughts as he said, “You will not leave my side and you will obey my every word.”

Adara nodded. “I will.”

“It is a bit of a distance,” Roark said. “Do you feel up to the walk?”

Annoyed that he had not given that thought, Warrick was about to order her to remain in the keep when she smiled and laughed softly as her hand went to pat her stomach.

“The bairn loves when we walk. When I sit too long he lets me know it. That was why I was outside when this happened.” She patted her stomach again. “He grew tired of me sitting and stitching.”

Warrick noticed that Adara spoke with ease and at length when it came to the bairn. That she loved the child that grew inside her was unmistakable and made him feel even more protective of them both.

“If you grow tired—” Another soft spurt of laughter from Adara paused Warrick.

“He will let me know.” She gave another pat to her rounded stomach.

Adara had taken brief walks in the woods, throughout her years of servitude, whenever the chance had presented itself, which had not been often, her daily chores all too grueling and all too endless to ever find time. When she did get a chance—sneaked a chance—she had often given thought to keep walking, not return to whatever hell she was living. Fear, however, had managed to keep her a prisoner and at times it still did. It was not until she learned what it was truly like to be a prisoner with no chance to sneak away for even a few minutes that she had sworn to herself after escaping the dungeon that never again would she allow herself to be held captive. If that ever happened, she would take a walk and this time keep walking.

At the moment, she had no wont to do that. She had something now that she had longed for… a home. While her husband might not love her, he had proven he would keep her safe when he had protected her and their bairn not only against the arrow meant for him, but the fall that could have harmed the bairn. No one had protected her when she was just a wee one and she would not have that happen to her child.

She glanced around. At one time, she would have been frozen with fright seeing so many of Warrick’s warriors. Now she was pleased to see them. They intimidated draped in their black shrouds, but not so much now with their hoods off their heads, their faces shown. Some of the warriors followed along with them while others were busy searching the area.

Warrick would keep her safe and his warriors would keep him safe and she was glad for that. However, the thought that someone wanted her husband dead troubled her terribly.

“What troubles you?” Warrick demanded. “You wear a frown.”

She looked at him. “And you wear a scowl. Why?”

“Your frown causes my scowl. Do you not feel well?”

“I feel good. The walk invigorates me.”

“Then why the frown?” he demanded again.

She spoke honestly. “It troubles me that someone wants to kill you.”

“Grown fond of me, have you?”

Was that a bit of humor she heard in his tone? Regardless if it was or not, she responded with a slight tilt of her head, a smile, and a touch of wit. “Do I have a choice?”

It was brief but she saw it, a slight lifting at the corners of his mouth as if he had nabbed the smile before it could surface.

“I will grant you that choice,” he said, enjoying their banter.

“I am grateful for that, my lord.” With a bob of her head and her smile tender. She confirmed, “I have grown fond of you.”

Warrick never expected those words from her or his reaction to them. He had to pounce on the smile that rushed to his lips, catching it before it could surface, but from the way his wife’s smile grew, he wondered if he had failed to stop it completely. At least she could not hear how it had set his heart to thumping rapidly against his chest.

Adara caught it again, the slight lifting at the corners of his mouth, and this time a brightness to his dark eyes she had never seen before. She made no mention of either, though it did prove that her husband was capable of smiling.

“Over here,” Roark called out.

Adara felt a chill wrap around her when her husband’s expression turned hard, uncaring, and she promised herself that somehow, she would get her husband accustomed to smiling until it finally became a natural thing for him to do.

The campsite had been deserted quickly and in their foolish haste things had been left behind, leaving signs of their extended stay there. Signs that three or more people had occupied the camp.

Warrick walked Adara over to a large rock, the top smooth. “You will sit here and rest until I am done.”

She nodded and he assisted her to sit before walking away. She took the time to look around. There were so many warriors scouting about that there was no way they would miss anything. There were even some warriors in the trees.

She watched with interest at how thorough her husband looked over the campsite and asked questions of Roark as he pushed at the cold ashes, that had once been the camp’s fire, with the tip of his boot. Every now and then he would glance her way, making sure she had remained where he left her, and she would smile at him. He did not respond, but she did not expect him to. She was thinking that if she kept smiling at him that, one time, he just might return her smile. At least, it was a start.

Adara glanced around. The area was not familiar to her. It was the opposite way of where she usually walked between MacVarish and MacCara land. This area of the woods led eventually to MacKewan land. She only knew that because of Hannah, the woman who had escaped with her. She had been glad to hear that all had went well for Hannah and she was wed to Slain MacKewan, and content.

She turned to see where her husband was when her eyes took notice of a stone on the ground not far from her. It was not a large stone. It could fit in the palm of one’s hand and looked almost perfectly round and flat. She scrunched her eyes, attempting to get a better look. There appeared to be something on the stone. She had always enjoyed finding stones with designs nature had imprinted on them. She had tried to keep a few, possess something of her own, but after they had been taken from her and discarded, she had stopped gathering them. The hurt of losing the few things she had managed to get for herself, that were hers and hers alone when she had nothing else, was just too much to bear.

Now, however, it was different. She could keep what she found. Not having given thought to gathering stones with designs in so long, she grew excited to start again. Without thought, she hurried to scoop up the stone.

She dropped down and picked up the flat stone, smooth all around except for the etching in the middle. Nature had not given this stone a design, a person had. She ran her finger up the straight line and over the two triangular ones that sat atop the straight line. It resembled an arrow.

“What are you doing?”

Startled by her husband’s sharp voice, she almost fell backward, but his strong grip prevented it and had her steady on her feet in a flash.

“You were to stay where I put you,” Warrick snapped.

His anger never failed to spark her fears, though she needed to remember that he had showed no signs of treating her badly. He had not raised a hand to her or kept food from her and that combined with the kindness he had shown her on their wedding night gave her confidence he would not do her harm.

“Adara,” Warrick said, tempering his tone when he caught the fear that flashed in her eyes. He had not meant to frighten her, but she had frightened him when he had looked and not seen her where he had left her, not that she had gone far. But still, she had not obeyed him.

His gentler tone did much to alleviate her fears and she was quick to apologize and explain. “I am sorry. I got so excited to find a stone with a design on it that I did not think. I went to snatch it up. The stones I had collected at one time were taken from me and I was so pleased to think that I could start collecting them again and not fear them being taken away.” She shook her head. “I truly am sorry, Warrick.”

Her sincere confession slammed at his heart and tore at his gut. That someone had robbed her of the joy of collecting a few paltry stones infuriated him. “I have no want to take the stones from you. You may collect as many stones as you wish, but you will obey my orders.”

“Aye, I will,” she said and was surprised when he asked about the stone she had found.

“What design does this stone hold?”

“One I believe made by man, not nature,” she said, handing it to him.

“Roark,” he shouted as soon as he saw the design and the warrior hurried over.

Adara watched as Roark’s eyes rounded upon seeing the stone.

“See if there are any more about,” Warrick ordered.

Roark nodded and rushed out, shouting orders.

Warrick hated to do what others had done to her, but he had no choice. “I have to keep this, Adara, for now. I will help you find others.”

“What is it I found?” she asked, thinking the stone just might have something to do with the man who tried to kill her husband.

Warrick hesitated at first, not wanting to involve her in it, but he wanted her to understand why he took the stone from her and only the truth could explain that.

He held the stone up, the etching facing her. “This is a rune symbol. The Vikings paint or engrave on their shields when they go into battle. It represents victory.”

She shook her head. “I do not understand. The Vikings are no more a threat to the Highlands. Some have even settled in a few of the isles far north well over five years ago when Denmark conceded Orkney and Shetland to Scotland, or so I was told.”

“Someone spoke to you of the Vikings? It was not a discussion you overheard?” He could understand if she overheard others speak of it, but being told? Who would have discussed such a thing with a servant?

“A woman I met by the stream where I took things to be washed. We talked of many things, Vikings one of them.” She shook her head again, her mind churning. “Does this mean that whoever seeks to harm you is a Viking?”

It was the second time today that she was quick to fit pieces of the puzzle together. She possessed a sharp mind, something he had not expected, but something he admired.

“Another piece to the puzzle,” he said.

She sensed that he was talking about a much larger puzzle than just who had attempted to kill him. She made no mention of it, but kept the thought tucked away.

No other stones with symbols on them were found by the time Warrick and Adara took their leave, but the search continued. Warriors followed them back to the village, Roark remaining behind to make certain a thorough search was conducted.

“I can take you to the healer if you would like,” Adara offered once in the village.

“You need food and rest after that walk,” Warrick said.

She almost smiled, his words filled more with concern rather than his usual commanding tone. “Her cottage is but a short distance from here and the questions will not take long. I can eat and rest afterwards.”

That he gave the idea thought almost had him shaking his head. He should be sending her to the keep to eat and rest after the walk into the woods and back. Yet he did not want to part company with her. He enjoyed having her with him and the thought annoyed him.

What annoyed him even more was that the shield he kept around his heart was showing signs of decay.

“We will keep it brief,” he said sternly.

“As you wish,” she said, her hand reaching out to take hold of his and as he had done all day, his hand wrapped around hers holding it firm, and she realized she liked the feel of it.

Warrick thought the same. He liked when she reached out for his hand, lacing her fingers with his or simply slipping her hand in his and his closing around hers. Her hand was soft. sometimes chilled and sometimes hesitant when it slipped in his. His heat chased any chill fast enough and the strength of his hand closing around hers settled any uncertainty. Surprisingly her small hand, so snug in his, began chasing an empty, bone-cold chill that had hold of him for far too long.

The cottage they approached was small and looked in need of some repairs.

“Is your clan so free of illness that no one needs your healer?” Warrick asked, seeing no one lingering about.

“Jaynce admits herself that she is not a talented healer and encourages everyone to wait for Cyra’s visits, or if necessary to go see her.”

“A new healer is necessary,” Warrick said, though he doubted he would ever find one as talented as Espy or Cyra.

“I will go see that we do not disturb her,” Adara said and went to hurry ahead of her husband.

Warrick did not stop her. He was aware that she hurried ahead to warn the woman of his presence, otherwise the healer might take a fright.

“Jaynce, it is Adara,” she said, tapping on the door and pushing it open. She stepped inside with a smile, wanting to ease any worry the healer may have when she learned Warrick was there to speak with her. “Jaynce,” she called out again concerned when she saw that the woman lay on her side in her bed, fully clothed. She hurried over to her, fearful she had taken ill and placed a hand on her shoulder.

Jaynce turned at her touch, dropping on her back, and Adara let out a scream.

Warrick bolted into the cottage, his blood running cold at his wife’s horrified scream. He rushed to her side, taking her in his arms, pressing her face to his chest, shielding her from the dead woman whose eyes were spread wide, appearing as if she stared in abject horror, her throat sliced from ear to ear.