Adara’s mind worked quick, ruling out getting past Maia to run for the door. The stairs would be no place to fight the crazed woman. Instinct had her grabbing the tankard on the table as she rushed out of the chair and throwing it at Maia. It hit her in the head, stunning her for a moment and giving Adara the time she needed to hurry and grab a log from the pile by the hearth. It was not much of a weapon, but it would serve as a shield against the knife.

Maia stumbled, almost falling, but caught herself. Blood ran into her eye from the cut on her brow just above it. She wiped it away with the back of her hand and glared at Adara. “I will make sure that you are still alive when I cut the child from your belly so you can watch it die along with you.”

Maia may have meant to frighten her, but Adara found strength in her terrifying threat. “You are vile and I will see you dead.”

Maia laughed. “You will not best me this time.” She lunged again and Adara blocked the thrust of the knife with the log and gave a shove, sending Maia stumbling back. As she did, Adara hurled the log at the woman. It hit Maia in the shoulder and sent her stumbling again only this time she could not stop herself from falling, the knife slipping from her hand as she did.

Adara rushed for the knife.

Maia was quick to roll and grab for it and as Adara’s hand reached the handle first, gripping it tight, Maia’s hand fell over hers, locking around it like an iron shackle and yanking Adara, sending her to her knees.

Adara sent a punch to the woman’s wound and Maia sent a hard kick to Adara’s one leg. Adara ignored the pain that shot through her leg, her only thought to keep her bairn safe. Maia raised her free hand and Adara grabbed her wrist and wrenched it back hard before the vicious blow could land on her stomach.

Maia let out a yell and let go of Adara’s wrist to give her a quick punch to the jaw, stunning Adara for a moment but not enough to prevent her from raising the knife as Maia went to grab it from her. It sliced the palm of her hand and blood began to pour from it.

Pain and fury raged on Maia’s face and in an instant her bloody hand grabbed Adara’s neck, squeezing tight.

Adara plunged the knife into Maia’s stomach.

The woman gave a cringing yell, then tightened her fingers at Adara’s throat. “I’ll choke the life from you before I die.”

Adara struggled for air as she went to pull the knife out of Maia, knowing she had little time to get the next plunge where it would do the most good. Maia’s free hand came up to stop her, but Adara grabbed her injured wrist and gave it a sudden, sharp snap.

The intense pain caused Maia to loosen her grip on Adara’s throat, returning some breath and strength to her. It was enough to pull the knife from Maia just as her fingers dug into Adara’s neck once again with a strength born of desperation to see her dead.

Adara did not waste a minute, she plunged the knife into Maia’s neck with one good thrust. Blood spewed out, hitting Adara in the face and Maia’s eyes widened for a second with what seemed like pleasure. The woman’s hand loosened at her throat and Adara pushed it away, gasping for breath.

This time Adara took no chances, she pulled the knife out of Maia’s throat and blood spewed out soaking her garment across her chest. She sat on the floor beside the dying woman and stared as her life drained away. “I gave you what you came for… death.”

When the gurgling stopped and no breath came from Maia, Adara tried to stand, but she found she had no strength left. She crawled to the nearby corner and managed to sit up, bracing her back to the wall. She stared at the blood covering her hands, felt it wet on her face, smelled it on her garment.

With a hefty sigh, she rested her hand on her protruding stomach and closed her eyes. “You are safe, little one. You are safe.”

The door burst open and the first thing Warrick saw was his wife, her eyes closed, blood covering her face, her hands, her garment, and he let out a furious roar that echoed through the entire keep and beyond.

Adara’s eyes shot open and, seeing her husband, she smiled.

Warrick thought his heart would leap from his chest as he rushed to her and just before he dropped down beside her, he saw Maia, blood pooling around her, her mouth agape, and her eyes wide and lifeless. He turned his attention to his wife.

“This is Maia’s blood,” Adara said, seeing what she never thought she would ever see on her husband’s face—fear.

“Are you hurt anywhere?” he asked, wanting nothing more than to take her in his arms and hold her tight.

She shook her head.

Warrick shut his eyes briefly and let out a breath, then he slipped his arms under his wife and lifted her gently into his arms and stood.

Roark waited by the door with his arm around his wife, tears streaming down her face.

“I want not a spot of blood left in this room,” Warrick said to Roark. “Callie, please have the servants prepare a bath in my bedchambers.”

She nodded.

“I am fine,” Adara said, seeing the tears streaming down Callie’s face.

“We should send for Espy,” Callie said.

“No,” Adara said, “with the snow already on the ground and the feel in the air of more to come it is not good for her to travel in her condition. I suffered no serious harm. I do not need a healer.”

Warrick thought otherwise. “Send for Cyra.” He stopped his wife before she could object. “It is not for you to decide.” He tucked her closer against him and walked out of the room and when they got to their bedchamber, he sat on the bed and rested her in his lap, his arms remaining firm around her.

“Warrick,” Adara said with a soft worry when the silence grew too heavy.

“I thought you were dead,” he said, resting his brow to hers. “I thought I had lost you.” He raised his head his eyes settling on hers. “I have never known such fear, such helplessness… such rage at being powerless. I cannot lose you, Adara. You are a part of me. Without you my heart would not beat, I would not be able to breathe, my soul would not be free. You taught me what it is to love.” He took a deep breath and said, “I love you, Adara. I love you with all my strength, all my heart. I love you forever and beyond.”

Adara felt the tear trickle down her face. “Your words, your love, fill me with joy. I do so love you, husband.”

The words spilled more easily from his lips. “And I love you, wife, more than I can express.”

“You can show me.” She grinned mischievously. “I love when you show me.”

“I will show you often and tell you often.”

“Every day,” she teased with a soft laugh.

“Every day,” he agreed with a whisper and went to kiss her.

Adara turned her head away. “Do not kiss me. I will not have her blood stain your lips.”

Warrick took hold of her chin and turned her face to look at him.

“Please pay heed to my plea. I want it washed away, all of it, the blood from the past, the blood I wear now. I want us to start fresh, cleansed of all the evil we both have suffered.”

“I will wash it away, wife, and when it is gone, I will kiss you for the first time.”

Adara smiled. “I look forward to that kiss more than any kiss you have given me.”

The servants began to enter the room, Wynn gasping when she looked at Adara.

“I am not injured,” Wynn,” she assured the old woman and slipped out of her husband’s arms to stand and nearly collapsed from the pain that shot up her leg if she had not grabbed Warrick’s arm.

He lifted her again in his arms and went to lay her on the bed.

Adara protested. “No, I am bloody and the bedding is clean.”

“I do not care if the bedding gets bloody. The servants can change it,” Warrick said and laid her on the bed. “You said you were not injured. What pains you?”

“My leg. Maia gave it a good kick.”

Warrick pulled back the hem of her shift and shook his head at the dark bruise on the calf of her left leg. He was angry that he had failed to be there for her, failed to protect her, failed to keep her safe, and in their own home.

“It is not your fault,” she whispered, knowing well his thoughts.

He lowered himself down on his haunches to look in her lovely dark blue eyes. “I told you I would keep you safe.”

“And you did.” She continued before he could argue. “You helped me conquer my fears and gave me the courage to defend myself. I am forever grateful you chose me as your wife.”

“You tricked me into choosing you,” he teased.

“However did I do that when I did not know you?” she asked with soft laughter.

“I chose a woman who appeared obedient, shy, fearful, and what did I get?” He smiled. “I got more than I bargained for. I got a woman stronger and more determined than any woman I have ever known and one that loves like I have never known. Now let me get you washed since I desperately want to kiss you.”

When the servants left, Warrick stripped off her garments and cast them aside to be burned. He never wanted to see them on her again, no matter how clean they might be. He lifted her and gently placed her in the tub. He scrubbed her hair first, digging his fingers into her scalp, making sure he got rid of any blood that might be there. Then he scrubbed the blood from her body, watching as each part of her skin glistened and the smell of lavender began to drift off her. He worked quickly not wanting her to sit long in the water that had turned a putrid shade of red from the blood.

She was as eager as he to have the blood gone, to see it done and over with. She shivered when he lifted her out of the tub, a light chill greeting her.

He was quick to wrap a towel around her and stand her in front of the hearth as he dried her. The bairn had changed her body and he loved the more defined curves to her waist and hips, her fuller breasts, her rounder backside. He loved watching her stomach grow larger with their bairn. There would be many more bairns to follow, a given since they made love so often, and he looked forward to watching her stomach grow with each one, knowing their love had conceived another bairn.

“You are beautiful, wife,” he said, his hand resting gently on her stomach.

Adara smiled. “For the first time in my life, I feel beautiful.”

Warrick lowered his head. “You have always been beautiful.”

Adara stretched her head up, eager to meet his lips as they came down on hers, eager to taste his kiss. It was no different than when he had kissed her before and yet it was different in every way. They were no longer strangers, no longer bound by a loveless union. They kissed because they loved and that was what made the kiss so different, so special in every way.

The kiss left Adara wanting more and she took his hand and tugged him toward the bed.

Warrick stopped her with a tug of his own. “We wait for Cyra, to be sure you are unharmed.”

“That is not fair,” Adara said with a pout.

“I agree, but until the healer confirms you are well, I will not touch you intimately.” He rested his hand on her stomach. “I want to be sure you both are unharmed.”

That he loved her enough to deny himself pleasure, stirred her heart, though it did not help the sensual stirrings in her.

Warrick quickly fetched her nightdress. He needed to cover her up or he feared he would not follow his own dictate. Afterwards, he settled her in bed and directed the servants to clear out the tub and to bring a hot brew.

He sat beside her on the bed as she sipped at the fragrant brew. “You were a brave warrior today, wife. You kept our bairn safe. I am proud of you.”

Adara swelled with pride, something she had never felt in her life. “We have no more worry from them.” Adara went on to explain what Maia had told her about Sondra and the man she loved, Searle, and how he feared for Sondra. “His own father having seen how brutal your da could be with women. He planned on rescuing her, but Sondra’s da saw that that never happened.”

Warrick assumed that was why the dying Viking warrior had referenced his da. He thought Warrick the same as his da, brutal and heartless. “The sad part is that I would have expected Sondra to do her duty as Maia had encouraged her to do. Now, though, after falling in love with you, I mourn the pain our arranged marriage cost her. I will see what can be done to make amends to Searle’s family so they know I was not part of this.”

“That is generous of you,” Adara said.

“It is not generous. It is a wise thing for me to do.”

Adara poked at her husband’s arm. “Wise maybe, but definitely generous.”

A knock sounded at the door and before Warrick could call out, Callie’s voice rang clear. “It is Callie and Cyra is with me.”

Warrick shook his head. “I will warn our sons about having a sister.”

“What if we have all daughters?” Adara asked with a gentle laugh.

“Do not curse us, wife,” he snapped and Adara laughed again as he shouted for Callie to enter.

Callie rushed in before Cyra and went straight to the bed. “Cyra was already on her way here from MacCara keep when the warriors came upon her. Espy asked her to check on you since Craven refuses to let her go anywhere, winter signs promising more snow.”

Cyra smiled broadly as she approached the bed. “You have a lovely sister, Warrick.”

“She is a pest,” Warrick grumbled, it growing harder to keep Callie’s identity a secret.

“And he loves me dearly,” Callie announced as if she proclaimed it to be so.

Cyra held back her laugh. Adara did not.

“You should go and leave us women to tend Adara,” Callie said with a smile to her brother.

“Where is your husband?” Warrick asked, not budging off the bed.

“I am right here to collect my wife,” Roark said, entering the room.

“I want to stay and see for myself that Adara is well,” Callie protested.

“I am well, Callie. There is no need for worry. You can come visit me later and we will talk,” Adara said.

“If Cyra gives permission,” Warrick added.

“Of course,” Callie said, “I will abide by anything Cyra says.”

“Yet you have a difficult time following my orders,” Warrick said.

“You are my brother,” Callie said as if that in itself explained it.

“And your husband?” Warrick asked. “How do you not obey him?”

“I obey Roark,” she said, turning a smile on her husband. “Sometimes. A few times. Every now and then.”

“Like now,” Roark said not able to keep a grin from his face. “Come, wife, we take our leave.”

Callie looked to Adara. “I am glad you are well. I will see you later, hopefully. She hurried to her husband’s side and out the door the couple went.

“Callie is a delightful pest,” Cyra said, the soft laugh she had tried to stifle slipping out.

“Someone who agrees with me,” Warrick said and stood. “I am grateful you came to tend my wife.” He stepped aside, but he had no intentions of leaving the room.

“How have things been going with the bairn?” Cyra asked as she sat on the spot Warrick had vacated.

Warrick grew impatient after a while, Cyra seeming to ramble on about things that had nothing to do with what Adara had suffered. He was about to interrupt when her questions began to change. Warrick realized after a few more questions what the healer was doing. She was establishing a pattern to see if anything had interrupted it.

When she finally finished, having spent time examining Adara’s leg thoroughly, Cyra said, “I will prepare a comfrey poultice for the bruise. It will help heal it and a comfrey soak will do your hand well.”

“What is wrong with her hand?” Warrick demanded and saw that her right hand was tucked beneath the blanket.

Cyra stepped aside as he stepped forward.

He held his hand out to her. “Let me see it.”

Adara could not very well refuse him, though she wished she could, since she knew it would hinder a chance for them to be intimate tonight. She slipped her hand from beneath the blanket.

Warrick cringed when he so how it had swelled. “Does it pain you?”

“It most certainly does,” Cyra answered for her. “Espy asked me to see that Adara’s hand continued to heal nicely. Today’s altercation changed that.”

“I did not notice it,” Warrick said.

“The swelling started when she finally rested. The comfrey soak will help as will limited use of her hand until the swelling goes down and even for a while afterwards.”

“I will see that she does,” Warrick said, sending his wife a stern look and she returned a smile. “You will stay a few days to make sure she does well, Cyra?”

It may have been a request, but it was clear it was more of a demand.

“I have little choice with the snow that has started falling heavily,” Cyra said, “though I do not mind. I was hoping to see if anyone else needed tending here.”

“I am grateful for whatever healing you can provide for my clan,” Warrick said.

“I will go see to having the poultice prepared while I partake of a hot brew. These old bones do not favor the cold.”

“Thank you, Cyra,” Adara said. “I am glad you are here.”

“All is well, Adara. There is no cause for worry.” Cyra closed the door behind her as she left the room.

Adara hurried to explain when Warrick sat on the edge of the bed. “I did not want you to worry or delay making love to me. That is why I said nothing about my hand.”

He brushed the strands of her blonde hair away from her cheek, pleased that it now fell past her shoulders. He loved to run his fingers through the soft strands and watch the natural waves fall gracefully around her face. He also loved when she pinned it up and strands would fall free to tickle her cheeks or neck.

God, but he loved his wife.

“The future stretches in front us with endless days and nights to make love. As for worry, from this day on no worry shall be heaped on one and not the other. We share our worries.”

She frowned. “That does not seem fair since mine is always greater than yours.”

“And yours will be less when you share it with me.”

He always sounded so assured and that always comforted Adara.

“If you say so, husband,” she conceded.

“I say so, wife,” he said and kissed her cheek. “Now tell me is there any worry you want to share with me?”

Adara could think of only one thing, but she had given her word she would not speak of it again to him. So how did she share her worry?

“Tell me what it is,” Warrick urged, seeing that something kept her from voicing her concern.

“You told me never to speak of it again, but I worry—how can I not—when your mission is now tied with the sanction of our marriage?”

His brow narrowed and his jaw grew taut. “It would make matters worse if I shared that with you, but there is no need for worry. It will be done soon.”

A knock sounded at the door and Roark called out, “A matter needing your attention.”

Adara looked to her husband, unable to keep the worry out of her eyes.

“No worries,” Warrick commanded and gave her a hasty kiss. “Rest. I will return soon.”

Adara lay there after he left, thinking on all that had happened. Was all good? Was there no reason to worry? Was her marriage secure?

Her thoughts were too jumbled to let her rest. She got out of bed and went to the window to look out on the cold, dreary day that seemed much like her thoughts. All was quiet, snow falling, the land a pristine white. All was well and she should not let worry trouble her.

Maia was gone. No one was out to kill her or Warrick. They were safe.

Her eyes caught movement at the edge of the woods. Someone was there.

Warrick suddenly came into view heading toward the woods and a short, cloak-draped figure darted out from beyond the trees and rushed toward her husband. The two talked and once again she watched as she did that night months ago as Warrick dropped a purse in the man’s hand.

What secrets did they keep? What did the man search for?

Until she knew, her worries would not cease.