To Love A Highlander (Highland Warriors Book 1) Page 19

  “I did but,” —she hesitated briefly— “in order to do that I first became his healer to gain his trust.”

  “No one gains Warrick’s trust and those who betray him suffer endlessly.”

  Espy thought Craven shivered, but realized it was she who had quivered. “I tended and saved many of his warriors after battle and him as well, though there seemed to be nothing that could do him harm nor was there anything that could touch his heart,” she explained as if still trying to make sense of the fearless warrior. “Unbeknownst to him, I managed to save several lives from horrible deaths. It was when three women were brought to the torture chamber that I knew my time there was done. I could not wait long to rescue them or they would die.

  “I freed two, one I was too late to help.” Pain filled her eyes as she spoke next. “I was caught leaving the torture chamber. I fought for my life, knowing what awaited me if I was taken prisoner. I would have rather died fighting than allowed that to happen.”

  “That would explain the bruises you had when you arrived here and how you got the scar?” Craven asked, angry at what she had gone through because he had sent her away from the only home she had, twisting his stomach into endless knots.

  Espy nodded. “I fought, and the guard who grabbed me lashed out with his dagger.” She shuddered, recalling the feel of the knife slice through her flesh.

  Craven dropped his hands off her shoulders and rested them at her waist. “How did you manage to escape?”

  “I was lucky enough to grab a chunk of slab, slam it against the guard’s head, then I shoved him hard. He stumbled back and was impaled on one of the torture devices.”

  “Warrick’s castle is like a fortress. How did you avoid his warriors?”

  “I was their trusted healer. Why would they stop me? Besides, they were too busy fighting the fire.”

  “What fire?”

  “The fire I set to the dungeon before I left.”

  Craven rolled his eyes and shook his head. “You set fire to Warrick’s dungeon?”

  Espy nodded. “I hoped it would delay them in discovering my part in it all, while giving me time to get far away. Since they knew nothing of my past, I had hoped they would not find me. I came here because I knew whatever waited for me here was nothing to what Warrick would do to me. And I wanted to come home to my grandmother and know love once again since I have known none, felt none, since leaving here.” She rested her brow to his chest for a moment before glancing up at him. “I am sorry. I did not mean to bring this trouble and danger to you. I will go with Warrick’s warriors.”

  “You will not,” Craven ordered sharply.

  She raised her head, her eyes wide as she pleaded with him. “Warrick will not only bring harm to you and your clan, but to my grandmother as well if I do not go with his warriors. I must go with them.”

  Craven brought his face close to hers, her scar a stark reminder of the hell she had been through. “You are not going anywhere, and you will keep silent when I speak with Warrick’s warriors. I will have your word on that.”

  “But—”

  “Your word,” he ordered sternly.

  “What choice do I have,” she said, knowing it was useless to argue with him.

  “You made your choice when you returned here to me. Now it is mine to handle.”

  Is that what she had done, brought her problem to him to settle? Could the beast actually defeat the demon?

  “Your word,” he reminded her.

  “I give you my word,” Espy said and somehow felt safer for it.

  Craven took her arm and hurried her out of the room and into the Great Hall.

  Espy’s heart lurched in her chest when she caught sight of Warrick’s warriors. They wore black robes with hoods that fell low over their faces, making them appear as if they were warriors of death. Swords were strapped at their waists, the metal so sharp it was known to slice those who dare got too near to them. There were six of them, six that could do more damage than sixty.

  One stepped forward and drew back his hood. “Warrick has sent us to fetch his healer.” He nodded at Espy. “That woman.”

  “Not a word of greeting, Roark, only demands?” Craven asked, keeping a keen eye on the man. He knew Roark though not as well as Warrick. He was a fierce fighter and stronger than most men, though one would not think it to look at him. He was lean, every part of him pure muscle and woe to anyone who thought to prove otherwise. He wore his dark brown hair shorter than most and had fine features women favored, but there was only one woman for Roark, his wife, Callie. He was also Warrick’s right hand man.

  “I am here for one thing, Craven… to return the healer to Warrick. He means you no harm and I do not believe I need to make you aware of the consequences if the healer does not return with me.” Roark’s bold blue eyes went to Espy. “No harm will be suffered by any as long as you come with me.”

  Espy would not let others suffer because of her, but she had given Craven her word to hold her tongue and she would… until there was no other recourse but for her to go with Roark.

  “She is not going anywhere,” Craven said with such confidence that it had Roark’s brow shooting up.

  Roark shook his head. “I cannot believe you would be foolish enough to defy Warrick, but then you always had tremendous courage. This time, however, it is misplaced.”

  “I think not,” Craven challenged.

  “Do not be a fool—”

  “It is Warrick who is the fool if he thinks I will let him take… my wife!”

  Complete silence filled the Great Hall, not a word was mumbled, not a sound was heard. The crackling fire in the hearth had even quieted.

  “Return to Warrick and tell him that the beast does not surrender what is his. If he wants my wife, he will have to fight me,” Craven said. “You will be given drink and food, then you will be on your way, for—under the circumstances—you are not welcome here.”

  “Warrick will want to hear this news right away. We will take our leave now,” Roark said and turned, then swerved back around to look at Espy. “My wife believed you her friend.”

  Espy bravely stepped forward, though Craven caught her hand in his as she did. “Callie knows I am her friend. It is you who doubts it.”

  Dylan walked over to Craven once the door closed behind the warriors.

  “Send a troop to follow them to make certain they leave the surrounding area and are not meeting up with more of Warrick’s warriors. Also send the tracker to Clan MacVarish and have him make sure he is not followed. A priest recently arrived there by Owen’s request. Have the tracker bring the priest here right away,” Craven ordered.

  “You are going to wed Espy?” Dylan asked.

  “It is the only way to make certain she is not harmed,” Craven said.

  Espy spoke up. “Sacrificing yourself for me will serve no purpose.”

  “It will not only save you unspeakable torture and death, but it will also see that my clan is kept safe,” Craven said.

  “Your clan will be safe if you let me go with them,” Espy argued.

  “But you will not be.” Craven nodded at Dylan. “See it done.”

  “Why wed me when you had wished the same fate for me as Warrick would deliver?” Espy asked as Dylan took his leave.

  He once again took hold of her arm and propelled her toward his solar. “You question me when I am saving your life?”

  Espy yanked her arm loose of his grip once in the room. “Saving me from one hell only to have me live in another?”

  He stepped in front of her and lowered his head slightly. “You feel it will be hell to be my wife?”

  “I have seen enough hate to know that it would be hell to be wed to a man who despises me.”

  “I do not hate you, not any longer. My hate was misplaced. Besides, you have no choice in the matter. You will be my wife and that is the end of it.” Craven’s sharp tongue stopped the protest before it reached her lips. “Not one word.”

  One word? She had a slew full of words to unleash on him, though she wisely let silence reign. He did, after all, admit his hate had been misplaced and at least that was a start. But if he no longer hated her, what did he feel for her? She would do as he ordered and keep hold of her tongue. It would do no good to do otherwise. Nothing she said would change his mind and why would she want it to? She did not want to be returned to Warrick. She wanted to stay here and if that meant wedding Craven then why argue with him?

  If truth were told, Craven had stolen her heart bit by bit from the first moment he had kissed her. She could not explain why nor did she understand it herself that she could lose her heart to a man who had once hated her, misplaced as it had been. But there was something there between them, though she would have believed it nothing more than fancy-filled thoughts if her grandmother had not seen it herself and so clearly. So, was there a niggling of hope that part of the reason he decided to wed her was that he possibly cared for her?

  A knock had them both looking to the door as it burst open.

  Dylan hurried in. “Warrick’s warriors are headed to Cyra’s and another six of them move in from the west to join them,”

  “Roark is no fool. He looks to verify what I told him,” Craven said.

  Dylan approached Craven. “We cannot reach Cyra before Warrick’s warriors do.”

  “You cannot leave her to face them on her own,” Espy insisted, fear for her grandmother’s safety rushing over her. She shook her head. “How does Roark know Cyra is my grandmother?”

  Craven looked at her oddly. “Warrick knows everything.” He turned to Dylan. “Then hurry and get the priest here. I want this done so Roark takes the truth back to Warrick.”

  Espy looked away from Craven as the two men spoke. A question had lingered in Craven’s eyes, and she had seen it clearly. She knew what it was and that he would eventually ask her. How had she been able to keep Warrick from knowing her true identity?

  “Do you think he will challenge you?” Dylan asked concern heavy in his tone.

  “It is difficult to say. You never know with Warrick. It is how he wins so many battles, he is unpredictable. There were times when it would seem that he was going to walk away from a fight only to turn and with one blow knock a man out.”

  Craven’s words brought back memories that had her instinctively leaning closer to him as she spoke. “I often had to see to the results of his unpredictable nature, and I kept my distance from him as much as possible.”

  “See to the priest, Dylan,” Craven ordered and took hold of Espy’s hand. “We will wait for him in the Great Hall together.

  “Seanmhair!” Espy cried out upon seeing her grandmother enter the Great Hall with the priest.

  Cyra threw her arms wide as her granddaughter ran to her. Her slim arms closed around her to hug her tight. A broad smile lit her face when they parted. “You will wed Lord Craven?”

  Craven answered for her, having followed behind her when she hurried to her grandmother. “We do not have time to explain, Cyra. After the exchange of vows, Espy will explain everything.” He walked away to speak with the priest.

  Cyra nodded and gave her granddaughter’s hand a squeeze and after kissing her on the cheek, she said, “I am glad I was visiting with Owen or else I would have missed this special day.”

  Espy went to tell her there was nothing special about it, though she was beyond pleased that her grandmother would share it with her. The delight dancing in Cyra’s eyes and her broad smile had Espy holding her tongue.

  “Love is afoot. Let it be,” her grandmother said with a soft laugh.

  “He does not love me.” Was that sorrow she heard in her own voice?

  “He would not wed you if he did not love you.”

  “He weds me to save me from harm, to spare his people pain and suffering,” Espy corrected.

  Cyra shook her head. “He weds you because his heart tells him to and for no other reason.” Espy went to argue but her grandmother stopped her. “No one tells the beast what to do, remember that.”

  “Espy.”

  She turned with a sudden jerk at Craven’s summons.

  “Go to him, he worries over you,” her grandmother said and gave her a gentle push and walked to take a spot where she would watch her granddaughter exchange her wedding vows with Craven. Her heart filled with joy as she watched them join hands. The way Craven closed his long fingers around Espy’s with purpose and strength, how he stepped close beside her, tucking her against him, laying claim to her for all to see, but most of all it was the way his dark eyes settled on her granddaughter that caused her heart to catch. She had seen that look in William’s eyes for her daughter Sidra. That look that said my heart is yours now and forever.

  Whether he realized it or not, she did not know, but he would learn soon enough that her granddaughter’s love would not tame the beast… but free him.

  Chapter 21

  Espy sat talking with her grandmother in the Great Hall while Craven had gone to wait outside for Roark’s return. He would not leave without confirming that Craven and Espy were wed, for that would have been Warrick’s first question upon Roark’s return.

  The priest had been only too pleased to present confirmation of the marriage until he heard who he had to face, then he begged to be freed of the duty. Craven had given him no choice, though he had given the man his word that he would keep him safe.

  Espy had heard the priest mumble that no man is safe from the demon lord, then he had begun to pray as he followed behind Craven.

  “You will stay a day or two, Seanmhair?” Espy asked hopefully.

  “You do not need me here having just been wed.” Cyra patted her granddaughter’s hand. “Besides, I have a woman who needs healing that I must see to.” She gave her head a brief shake. “Her spirit needs more healing than her body. I know so little about her since she barely speaks, a word or two is all she says and then turns silent on me.”

  Something poked at Espy to ask, “Have you learned her name?”

  “She has not trusted me with it yet. She is small, thin, and frail. Her one hand appears to have suffered an injury, leaving two of her fingers crooked and—”

  Espy interrupted her. “Does she stay at your cottage?”

  “I wish she would, but she will not tell me where it is she resides. She simply appears at my door every other day and I feed her, tend her, and—”

  Again Espy interrupted her grandmother. “Today she will come to you.”

  Cyra nodded and stood. “Which is why I must be on my way.”

  “Yes, you must go and tend her. She needs you,” Espy said, standing and hugging her grandmother. “I will visit soon.”

  Cyra smiled. “Remember, let things be. All will go well.”

  Espy hugged her grandmother again, tighter this time. “I love you, Seanmhair.”

  “And I you,” Cyra said.

  “I will see you to your horse,” Espy said but soon learned that no one was to leave until further word from Lord Craven.

  “But there is someone I must tend,” Cyra explained.

  “Please go explain to Lord Craven and ask his permission for my grandmother to take her leave,” Espy said to Tass, and it was not long before he returned to let her know Craven had granted it.

  The bell tolled for a second time that day, letting everyone know that Warrick’s men were returning. Warriors left the Great Hall to gather outside, not one noticing Espy and Cyra slipping through the passage that connected the castle with the kitchen.

  Once Espy saw her grandmother off safely, she hurried to the stable. There was no one around, everyone lingering near the front of the keep to watch Lord Craven defend the clan. She soothed Trumble while she readied him to ride, letting him know that they were sneaking off for a while but would return. In minutes, she led Trumble out of the stable and into the woods.

  Craven stood on the steps of the keep, the priest beside him as Roark entered the castle grounds. This time, however, Roark arrived with more warriors. When he brought his horse to a stop, Craven raised his hand before Roark could speak. “If Warrick has anything to say to me, let him say it himself. Espy and I are wed and nothing is going to change that. The priest here will confirm it.”

  The priest nodded vigorously while his body trembled.

  Roark ignored the quivering man. “She betrayed Warrick.”

  “Espy did what she felt was right,” Craven corrected.

  “That is not for her to decide,” Roark argued.

  “And this is not for you to decide. It is between Warrick and me. As I said, let Warrick speak for himself. Now be on your way. There is nothing left for either of us to say,” Craven ordered.

  Roark glared at Craven. “She lies. She is not known as Espy to us. Who truly is she and what else does she lie about?” He turned his horse around and took his leave, his men following suit, and Craven knew it would not be the last of it.

  She lies. Who truly is she? His words rang in his ears along with the answer. A woman who cares deeply and will do anything to protect the innocent and helpless. A woman he now called his wife.

  He had never thought to wed again, but this was no true marriage like when he had wed Aubrey. It had been a grand celebration, friends coming from all over and food and drink galore. Music played, songs were sung, tales were told, and the future stretched out brightly in front of them.

  What awaited Espy and him? He did not know, but he was eager to find out. Lately he had realized he had grown accustomed to her being in his life and, for reasons he could not fathom, he wanted her to remain in his life.

  I care for her.

  He almost shook his head. Did he care for her or was it simply that he desired her, and would that be enough to sustain their marriage? Only time would tell.

  He entered the Great Hall expecting to see his wife there speaking with her grandmother. Only servants lingered about. He felt his stomach clench. There would be no reason for her to run off now that they were wed, so where had she gone?

  Tula entered the hall and he was quick to ask if she had seen Espy.

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