Callie sighed and shook her head. “I wish I knew. No one dares speak of it. Even Roark will not discuss it with me. If I bring it up to anyone, they walk away from me. I have tried endlessly to find out what happened. I refuse to believe my brother killed his wife. He protects what belongs to him.” She shook her head again. “He could not have done what some wagging tongues say he did.”

“What did they say he did?” Adara asked fearful of what she might hear yet needing to hear it.

Callie shuddered. “They claim the room was awash with blood. It was everywhere. On Sondra, his wife, and on Warrick. They say he sliced her throat after having taken the knife to her body.”

Adara stared at Callie, trying to digest her words. “That is not possible. He would not do such a thing.”

“He has done such a thing. My father made sure he could take a knife to a man when necessary and not have it disturb him in the least. Warrick can be heartless when he wants to be and definitely when he needs to be. But I remember the words he whispered to me when he left me at the convent and I did not fully grasp until much later. He told me that we would never be like our mum and da. I realized later that he was trying to tell me to trust him. All would be well. And it was.”

“I wish I knew the truth,” Adara said.

“The only way you will ever know the truth is to ask him yourself,” Callie said.

“I do not know if I have the courage to do that,” Adara admitted to her own disappointment.

“Do you have the courage to live always wondering what happened?”

“Why have you not asked him?”

“I did,” Callie said, “and he told me never to ask him again. But you are his wife, he might answer you.”

Adara was unsure if that would make a difference.

The bell tolled and it had Adara and Callie hurrying to the Great Hall. They were stopped before they could reach the keep doors.

It was the young warrior Gavin who told them they were to remain in the keep. A band of renegade warriors from the MacNair Clan were creating a problem, and Warrick and Roark had left to take care of it.

Adara wished she could have seen Warrick before he left and let him know he was to stay safe and return home to her. As the night wore on and he had not returned, her concern grew. It turned to a raging fear when he had yet to return the next day and two days later, though she fought not to show it, she was beside herself with worry for her husband’s safety.

She tried to tell herself it was a foolish thought. He was a skilled warrior. He had fought many battles and had survived. But that was not the crux of her worry. She knew all too well what troubled her. She feared that if he never returned to her, he would never know how much she loved him, and she wanted him to know. She desperately wanted him to know.

It would take courage for her to admit it to him, but she needed him to know. She needed him to know that there was someone who loved him beyond measure. She simply could not deny it anymore, nor did she want to.

She loved Warrick and she did not want to question how or why or when it all happened. She did not care that many or most believed him heartless or ruthless, she knew differently. He had shown her differently. And he might not love her, but he cared for her, she could see it, feel in the many good and decent ways he treated her. He could dictate, demand, and threaten, but never ever had he raised a hand to her or harmed her. Never had he belittled her, made her feel less then as others had done. He was proud of her and he let her know it.

Adara paced in her bedchamber that night, the wind outside howling at the window as the rain slashed against it. Her worry for her husband grew and so did her fear. She kept it at bay, told herself all was well. Her husband was fine. He would be home soon. But as the night grew later, so did her fear.

She would lose him and never have gotten the chance to tell him she loved him.

The storm worsened, thunder crashing loudly, rain pounding viciously, a cold wind whipping at the windows and a sudden chill filling the bedchamber.

Adara could not help it. She could not hold back the tears. She wanted her husband. She needed him, needed to tell him how she felt, needed to feel his strong arms around her, the strength of him seeping into her. Needed to know this was all real, her husband, her bairn, her family.

The door opened quietly and Warrick entered the room, dressed only in his plaid, a sheen of dampness to his skin and his dark hair. She was so shocked to see him, she stood there staring at him, fearing he was not real that she had wished him there.

Warrick stilled, surprised to see her awake so late, but when he saw the tears streaming down her cheeks, he did not hesitate… he went to her. As soon as he moved, so did she. She flung herself into his arms.

“What is wrong? Is it the bairn?” he asked, keeping one arm snug around her while he wiped gently at her tears with his finger

“I was so afraid,” she said, trying to control her weeping.

“There is nothing for you to fear, Adara. You are safe here. No one will ever take you from me. As I have told you repeatedly, we are stuck together you and I, forever and ever.”

She shook her head.

“Aye,” he insisted. “I claim it so and nothing will change that. You have my word.”

She continued to shake her head, though more slowly. “I so feared—”

“No, wife, no fear, no more. There is no need for it. You are strong and courageous. There is nothing for you to fear.”

His words gave her strength as did the strength of his loving arms. “I feared I would not get the chance to tell you how much I love you and always will.”

Warrick was struck silent, her words settling in, swirling around him, grabbing hold of his senses and gripping his heart until he thought he would burst with joy. Never had he thought he would find a woman who loved him or that he could love. Adara had changed all that. She had captured his heart and settled in his soul. She was part of him and he was part of her.

Still, he could not bring himself to tell her how he felt, his father’s words haunting him.

Love no one. It will ruin you.

Warrick chased his father from his mind and tried to speak, tried to tell her that he lov… he wanted to say it, needed to say it, needed her to know and yet the words would not leave his mouth.

Adara stretched up to gently kiss his lips. “You need say nothing, husband. I needed to say those words, needed you to know how I feel about you, how you have my heart, how I love you beyond reason. Nothing else matters to me as long as you know that.”

Words would not come for Warrick so he did what he could to show her how he felt. He scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. He stripped himself and her of their garments, then he stretched out beside her on the bed.

He touched her with a gentleness he rarely showed, running his fingers over her soft skin, turning it to gooseflesh.

“I love your touch,” she whispered, her senses rising along with her flesh. “I love everything about you.”

He took her lips then and not gently. It was a deep hunger he felt for her, one that he would continue to feel for her, since he believed he would never have enough of her. The more he tasted, the more he wanted. As hungry as he was to join with her, he took his time. He wanted to cherish this moment, keep it—her words—in his memory forever and in hers as well.

It was almost like making love to her for the first time and in a way it was, for this time it was love that brought them together.

His lips followed where his hands had touched and though no part of his wife was new to his touch or taste, it seemed as if it was. For the first time in his life, he was making love with someone who loved him, truly loved him, and it made all the difference in the world.

“I cannot wait, Warrick,” Adara cried out. “I have gone too long without you.”

He had not thought his manhood could grow any harder, his need any stronger, but knowing his wife thirsted unmercifully for him drove him over the edge and he entered her with an unrelenting need of his own.

He gripped her bottom, her legs resting over his shoulders, as he drove in and out of her, ever mindful to be careful of her rounded stomach and his bairn that rested within. He loved the feel of her tight around him and he tilted his head back and let himself get lost in the exquisite pleasure.

Adara had not thought she could enjoy making love with her husband more than she already did, but this joining proved her wrong. There was something different about it and she knew what it was, knew without Warrick saying a word, that he loved her.

She let loose all her fears, all her doubts, and let herself love him.

Warrick looked down at her, feeling the difference, feeling her give herself completely to him and he did the same.

They burst together in a climax that united them like never before, that pleasured them like never before, that felt them loved like never before.

Warrick took her in his arms as they lay in the aftermath of their lovemaking and pulled a blanket over them when their heated bodies cooled and felt the chill in the room.

“I like the way you greet me upon your return home,” Adara said with a soft laugh.

It took Warrick a few moments before he could say, “I cherish the words you greeted me with, wife.”

Adara snuggled closer to him, resting her rounded stomach against him and laying her leg over his. “Then I will greet you that way each time you return home.”

Warrick felt the bairn move against him and her cool skin begin to warm against his and at that moment he knew true happiness, true love. “Promise me, wife.”

Adara looked up at him. “Promise you what?”

“That you will always greet me as you did tonight.”

Adara smiled. “You need no promise from me for that, for I shall tell you every day how much I love you and even more so when you return home after being away.”

Warrick struggled to say the words he felt in his heart, but had been beaten into him never to be said, never to be felt, never to be known.

Adara saw the struggle on his face and while it hurt her heart to see it, it also pleased her, for he no longer hid his feelings from her. They were there for her to see.

She ran her finger over his lips gently and said what she knew he felt in his heart. “You need say nothing, husband. I know you love me.”

He hugged her tight, pleased that she knew him so well.

“I am patient. I can wait, and one day you will tell me yourself.” She yawned and settled her head on his chest and shortly after fell asleep.

He felt when she drifted off and hoped her words proved right. It had not been only his father who had beaten it into him about how useless love was, but his mother as well. She had told him love was for fools. Marriage was a duty that was meant to unite clans, forge stronger bonds, and produce heirs. His father also told him to stick his manhood into any woman he wanted to, but care nothing for her. Get his release and be done with it.

Through the years there had never been any woman he had ever cared for, but then he had been a cold lover, taking more than giving… until Adara. There had been something different about her. Something that had warmed him. He had not wanted to take from her. He had wanted to give to her, as she had given to him, and that had made all the difference.

He drifted off, thinking how much he loved his wife.

Adara sat in her solar a few days later with Callie, stitching garments for the bairn. They talked, Callie entertaining her with her time spent in the convent.

“How are you not scarred from beatings with how much you misbehaved?’ Adara asked with a soft chuckle.

“I had wondered the very same thing. I had not cared about what consequences I would suffer when I got left there. When the nuns raised no hand to me, I was surprised and more embolden by their lack of punishment. They started locking me in my room, not much of a punishment since I was used to spending time alone. I learned after a while that it was the only punishment that I would suffer if I did something wrong. I realized then why they never took a hand to me.”

“Warrick,” Adara said.

Callie nodded. “I figured he had put the fear of God into them if they should ever leave a mark on me.”

They both turned quiet.

Adara knew their thoughts were similar, the idea of Warrick threatening the nuns, making them both wonder if he would have ever raised a hand to them, and raising the question about what he might have done to his first wife.

“Did you ask Warrick?” Callie asked.

“Ask me what?” Warrick said, entering the room.

Both women jumped in their seats, but said not a word.

Warrick moved to stand in front of both of them, looking from one to other. “I expect an answer.”

Callie went to get up. “I should go. Roark is probably looking for me.”

“Stay where you are, Callie,” Warrick warned, “since I suspect you have something to do with this question my wife has for me.”

“It is my own question. Callie has nothing to do with it,” Adara said.

Warrick looked to his sister.

“I may have told her to ask you,” Callie admitted with no reluctance.

He turned back to Adara. “Ask me, wife.”

Adara debated briefly, if she should think of something else to ask him, but she did not want to lie to him.

“The truth, wife,” Warrick warned.

“The truth, husband,” Adara said, demanding the same of him to her surprise.

He nodded.

“I know about your first wife, Sondra,” Adara said and watched his face harden and his dark eyes turn cold.

“That is not a question. Ask your question, Adara,” he demanded.

She found it much too difficult to ask and besides, she did not believe he killed his first wife, so the question was not necessary. “It is not important.”

“Ask me,” he commanded with such sternness that it had Callie shifting uncomfortably in her seat.

A twinge of fear rose in Adara as she asked, “Did you kill Sondra?” She felt as if Warrick’s dark eyes grabbed hold of hers and held them captive, and she found herself holding her breath.

“Aye, I killed Sondra,” Warrick said and turned and walked out of the room.