Warrick took the steps three at a time, Roark following close behind him, his blood running cold at the sound of his name being screamed repeatedly. He threw the door to the room open with such force that it broke off its top hinge.

Like a fist to the gut, relief hit Warrick when he saw his wife twisting and fighting the blanket that had entrapped her. Still, she was not only trapped in the blanket, but the dream as well and he hurried to free her of both. It was not easy, since her struggles increased as he attempted to unravel the blanket.

“I am here, Adara. You are safe,” he urged as Roark hurried to help him.

It took a few moments to free her and all the time, Warrick continued to ensure her that she was safe.

“Hear me, wife, you are safe. I will let no harm come to you. You are safe.”

Adara’s eyes sprang open when released from the entwined blanket and seeing her husband leaning over her, she threw her arms around his neck and his name fell from her lips in a thankful whisper.

Warrick scooped her up in his arms and sat on the bed, holding her as tightly as she clung to him. “All is well. You have nothing to fear.”

Adara’s chest heaved, her breathing rapid, as if she had been running far too long, but then she had been. She pressed her face against her husband’s chest, listening to his heart thunder. He had been running as well, running to her… to save her.

“I will never let anything happen to you,” —his hand went to rest on her stomach— “or the bairn. You have my word on that.”

Feeling safe at the moment, and for the first time in her life, she wanted to believe his pledge, but life had taught her differently. For now, she would allow herself a small reprieve and believe she was safe… until she was not.

Night came much too soon and with it bedtime. She had gone to her room, thinking if she fell asleep there Warrick would leave her be. But what little of hers had been there had been removed and the bed stripped. Even the fire in the hearth had been doused. She had no choice but to go to the bedchamber that she would share with her husband.

The room had belonged to her uncle and when she entered, sweet memories greeted her. She would spend early evening here with uncle Owen. They would sit in the two chairs he had arranged in front of the hearth, a fire always kept burning since the stone walls seemed to forever hold a chill as had his old bones, as he would say.

A tear fell from the corner of her eye as she recalled their talks and she realized she missed her uncle more than she thought possible.

“What is wrong? Is it the bairn?” Warrick asked, after stepping around her and seeing the tear slip down her cheek. He placed a gentle hand to her lower back while his other hand came to rest tenderly on her stomach.

His concern poked at her heart, though she tried not to think too much on it, but instead reminded herself that hopes and wishes never came her way.

“Good memories of my uncle,” she said. “This was his room. We would talk here in the evenings. He would tell me about my mum when she was a young, spirited lass.” She had been grateful for those talks, for she had come to know her mum that way.

“You do not remember your mum?”

“I remember nothing of her or my da.”

“No siblings?” he asked.

She shook her head. “What of your family?”

Warrick patted her stomach. “You both are my family.”

Having been thrown into the marriage, she had never considered that it just might give her what she had always wanted, a permanent home, a family… love. Warrick might not love her but the bairn would. Hope sprang in her that it was possible and she held tight to it.

She rested her hand over his and smiled up at him to let him know his words had pleased her.

Her innocent touch struck him like a bolt of lightning, arousing him and bringing with it the memories of the one night they had shared. A night that had haunted him, playing in his mind over and over. He wanted a taste of it again. To see if the immense pleasure had been real or if he had made it more than it had been.

He had thought often of her lips and the kisses they had shared. Light, faint kisses at first, letting her grow accustom to his lips, to his desire, and her own. He had teased hers, brushing them gently until she began to respond, with caution at first. Her timid attempts had flared his desire like a spark to kindling. That moment was branded in his memory and every time he recalled it, which was far too often, he grew aroused just as he did now. There had been no recourse for him, not until now.

He lowered his head slowly to see if she would pull away, deny him, but she did not move, though her eyes, the darkest blue he had ever seen, turned wide. He brushed his lips over hers and he felt her gasp and knew he had struck a spark in her. His lips stroked hers faintly, though unlike before she responded more quickly, her lips showing their eagerness for more.

His hand went to the back of her head, cupping it, holding it firm as his lips took possession of hers, teasing, coaxing, demanding and his loins tightened when she eagerly returned his kiss.

It was not as he remembered it. It was more, so much more.

Their tongues dueled in passionate play and as his arm closed around her, she stepped closer to him, pressed her body to his so hard that it felt like she could not get close enough, like she had missed him, had finally come home to him. Or was it he who felt that way?

He had missed her and she had welcomed him home.

The thought shocked him so badly that it had him stepping away from her abruptly. He scowled at her, a low snarl rumbling in his chest as his hands fisted at his sides, and she took a step back away from him.

He stormed past her, out the door, slamming it closed behind him.

Adara hurried to sit in the chair by the hearth, fearful her trembling legs would not support her much longer. She had no idea what happened. Had she done something wrong? She had kissed him no differently then she had on their wedding night. At least, she did not believe so.

When she realized he intended to kiss her, she felt anxious, unsure, and yet something inside her was eager for his kiss, eager to taste the pleasure his lips would bring her. But it had brought her even more than she had expected. Her heart had soared when his lips touched hers and she felt…

Tears tickled her eyes. She could not believe what she had felt and was still feeling. It could not be.

She felt as if he had welcomed her home.

Warrick stepped out into the cold night air and took several deep breaths to stop himself from roaring into the darkness and waking the entire village. He had rid himself of any feelings, that would get in his way, anything that would prevent him from succeeding. A trait owed to his father’s tutelage.

He had to keep his mind clear, his insights sharp, to keep all his missions victorious. He could not let a wisp of a woman distract him. He needed his thoughts focused.

He turned his face into the wind that whipped behind him, the cold that came with it hitting him like a slap in the face. He needed it, needed reminding of what was important.

He could easily lose himself in Adara. When he was with her, kissed her, touched her, was inside her, he had felt free. Free of the horrors of battle, the pain and suffering, the stench of death. That night, it had been as if her innocence had washed away his sins and he was at peace. He could not remember the last time he had felt such contentment. He had tried to deny the impact she had had on him, but kissing her again had brought it all back and now it was not only peace she brought him, but the feeling of returning home. A place he longed for, a place he had never known.

He turned an eye on the keep. He had paid the price demanded of him, though he had done so under his terms. He had wed a woman of his choice, not a woman known to him, and not a titled one. One who was accustomed to obedience. One who would live by his rules. One he would treat well and keep safe. One that would expect nothing from him.

Why now did he want something else from the woman he had chosen?

“Something amiss, Roark?” Warrick asked, turning to see his warrior and friend step out of the night shadows. He believed his keen senses had been born of experience through the years, but he was reminded they had been born more out of necessity.

“No, all is well. I could not sleep. I miss my wife.”

“I am surprised she has not taken it upon herself to venture here,” Warrick said.

Roark smiled. “Callie does have a strong nature.”

“More than a strong nature. I do not know how you deal with her.”

Roark laughed. “Love is blind.”

“The very reason I avoid it.”

“It strikes you whether you want it to or not.”

“I keep an impenetrable shield.”

Roark shrugged. “Is the shield any longer necessary? You have a wife, chosen for her obedience. A servant who for years obeyed without thought or question. You need not worry about love. You have what you want.”

“I do have what I want. Adara knows her place and will obey me without question.”

“And she is fertile, already carrying your bairn.”

“You doubt the bairn is mine, Roark,” Warrick challenged.

“What matters is what you believe.”

“Trust and truth are difficult for me, as you know.”

“Those who betrayed your trust and lied to you were known to you. You do not know Adara well enough to judge if she can be trusted or if she speaks the truth,” Roark said.

“It matters not. I will not speak of important matters with her.”

“If that is what you wish,” Roark said.

“What I wish?” Warrick snapped. “What I wish is for what happened never to have happened. But that is not possible and now I must find the truth.”

“Would it not be wiser to tell Adara before she discovers for herself?”

“Do you plan on telling her?” Warrick snapped again.

“You know I would never do such a thing,” Roark assured him.

“Then who would tell her?”

Roark shook his head. “You know well enough there are those who take pleasure in other peoples’ pain and would only be too glad to see the shock on Adara’s face at the news. They would get even more pleasure to see her recoil from you after learning about it. Tell her before someone else does.”

“Not yet,” Warrick argued.

“I was there when you told her you would keep her safe, let no harm come to her. She will be harmed if she learns of this from someone else.”

Warrick took a step away from Roark, angry that he had brought up the matter and angrier that he was right. “She will be harmed either way.”

“It will make a difference coming from you.”

Warrick laughed, not a humorous one. One more tinged with evil. “A difference? I doubt that, my friend. Though, I do not doubt that she will run from the room screaming when I tell her I killed my first wife.”