Page 21

Chapter

Eighteen

Grahame

G rahame drew a deep breath for patience as he followed his wife through the door.

The hinges creaked, the great wood slab thudding closed after him.

Mud slicked the paths that wove around the house, one leading to a flourishing garden on the left, the other to the stable on the right.

Grass speckled with tiny white wildflowers climbed the short hill the house resided upon.

Grahame was glad the rain had turned to mist.

God, had it been mere days that he had resided there? Adara had taken hold of his senses, wrapping him in a hold he could not escape.

After the night previous, he wasn’t sure he wanted to.

Adara’s heel ground into the stone pathway as she halted next to an ancient oak tree that grew unnaturally close to the house.

The twitching of her right hand caused something in Grahame’s chest to tighten.

The desire to take her in his arms, to lift her chin so he could taste her lips was overpowering. It grated.

All night Grahame had wrestled with the fact he did not want to leave his wife in bed alone.

She held terrible power over his friends, yet he wanted to learn her.

To bed her, yes, but also find out about her likes and annoyances.

To dig deeper beneath her tough outer shell.

They had not had the time in their youth. Yet time was presenting itself now.

Grahame decided to fend off his traitorous thoughts with questions that he needed answered.

“What is your game with Yrsa? Are you going to free her?”

Adara held up a hand for silence. Two small lines appeared between her brows. Faint shadows lived beneath her eyes. Had she barely slept after their marital joining, just as he had? Seeing Yrsa in the great room was an intense relief. One that gave him hope. He decided to push.

“Adara. Please, tell me what you plan to do. I’ve upheld the terms of my bargain. Yrsa should be freed.”

“Would you give me a moment to think?” Adara exclaimed, stomping her foot.

“All you have are questions. Like everyone else. ‘Lady Clayton, do we need to worry over Hyrstow encroaching like they did near Guston?’; ‘Lady Clayton, how will we be able to afford our taxes?’. Not to mention the demands of my father and Hyrstow breathing down my neck.”

She rubbed her temples as she spoke, one hip popping out as she settled her weight. Despite his frustration with Adara’s schemes, the movement carved out a small crescent of affection in Grahame’s heart. He had learned to expect the worst from her. Such concerns were a surprise.

“You…have such worries?” he ventured, stepping forward as if he were on the end of a string she wound toward her.

Adara shoved out an impatient breath. “Are you daft?”

“I try not to be, yet I am but a humble shepherd. I have no knowledge of how you run your household. Or that you oversee tenants. How would I know they are worried over Hyrstow’s encroachment? Though, as your husband, I assume I must learn.”

Grahame crossed his arms over his chest as he spoke. To guard himself against her. Adara’s worries were a distraction. She had promised to free Yrsa. Bringing her out of the dungeon was a start; however, Grahame did not yet trust his wife’s word.

Adara’s hands flared as she slapped the sides of her thighs in frustration at his impudence.

“Of course they are worried about Hyrstow overtaking them! Not that you care, but two years ago Ridley Ward came through with his men and snatched up prime farmland. Who knows if he will do it again? I make no secret of wanting revenge on him for harming my family, but my father also ordered for Elvin to keep him in check. I’ve…

taken the liberty to continue. The only thing stopping me from sending men to finish him off is that I do not want war from the Earl of Deircia.

However, I will admit to being…ambitious with my vengeance after Elvin died.

I had his funds and his power. Yrsa was supposed to be captured during that raid.

The market upset was a distraction that got out of hand. ”

Grahame could barely hear Adara’s final words over the thudding of his heart.

The raid hadn’t gone to plan? Not that he condoned any raid on his people, however, he could not deny how Hyrstow had prospered with the additional farmland.

His village was a place where people congregated, where they sought comfort.

It was natural to assume the Earl of Deircia’s ambitions could extend further into Adara’s territory.

Ridley would follow orders, as he always had.

Adara rubbed at her pinched brow with her thumb and forefinger. She stared at the ground as she spoke. As if the fight had left her, she sighed. “Never mind, Grahame. I will be the villain to you and your friends. I do not know why I bothered to tell you any of this.”

Adara moved to turn down the path away from him, but Grahame’s hand shot out to stop her. He could not let her wander. Not when Ridley was just beyond the gate, waiting for any sign of Adara’s vulnerability.

“No disappearing on me. You called me out here, Wife. Or should we let everyone think we are coupling like blissful newlyweds? Hmm?”

Adara scoffed, “You always jest. It is infuriating.”

Grahame tightened his grip on her arm as his patience with the conversation slipped.

He infuriated her? Adara did not realize the breadth of his frustration.

She did not understand how horrific it was to be summoned and married to the one woman he’d always wanted only after she had changed so deeply. The truth spilled out of him, unbidden.

“I jest because the more I learn, the more it tears me apart to hear of the horrors of your life. It angers me to witness what you’ve become as a result. All I’ve had to suffer is your absence.”

“Do not tell me you suffered in my absence,” she spat.

Like a change of wind, Adara pushed at his chest, her words slapping him with their force.

“Do not tell me I was the cause of any discomfort. Not when you so readily chose your friends over me that summer. Not when you said goodbye and I worried over you. For months, Grahame! I had no idea if you lived or died until Cecilia told me at the Yuletide feast. I agonized over you.”

Grahame flinched against the truth. Her hands pressed into his chest, turning into brands as he remained still, praying she wouldn’t remove them.

“You may not want to hear it, but I pined for you for years, ’Dara.

Each day I regretted my choice to follow Ridley, to find those who killed his parents.

If I had known you would have been summoned home while I was gone, I would not have left.

I was so in love with you, ’Dara, so young and daft.

We knew we could not be together yet I would have likely risked the noose for your hand. ”

A tear spilled down her cheek. It cut straight through him, striking his well-guarded heart.

“That would have been worse,” she whispered.

Grahame shook his head. “I carried that wound inside me, that you were never to be mine. I let it fester until I heard you were the one to orchestrate the most recent raid on my people. My thoughts of you changed, then. I couldn’t reconcile my Adara as someone who would do such a thing.”

“I…” she trailed off as if she was going to protest her actions then decided against it.

Her mouth set in a wobbly line, her hands dropping from him. And, as much as she was the villain in his life, the tenderness he felt for her was raw. It would have been so much easier to hate her.

Grahame drummed his fingers on his leg. Their arguments carried too much hurt. He needed to get back to what mattered now.

“I am sorry that you have these worries. I had not thought of Ridley in this way. I…he’s my friend. I do not agree with your actions, Adara, but thank you for telling me. I can see the grief you carry and the pressure from your tenants.”

Her face jerked upward, confusion and anger warring on her perfect features. Grahame stopped fighting his urges. She was his wife, no matter how the arrangement came to be. He tugged her to him then dipped a kiss to the tip of her nose, his heart hammering.

As if to break him further, Adara stepped away. Tears lined her lower lashes, though a challenge lay in her words.

“I made you my prisoner.”

A scoffing laugh cut through him. He scratched the back of his head, noting the way Adara’s gaze followed the curve of his upper arm. “Chain me up, then. You are mine and I am yours. The decision has been made. Now what are we to do with it?”

Adara paled. Her mouth popped open, then closed, her palms lifting in a gesture of uncertainty. Grahame held his breath.

She could have chosen any man to be her puppet.

He yearned to know why she had picked him.

It cut him to the quick to think it was simply because he had land between Hyrstow and Guston.

And, damn his heart, he held out a sliver of hope it was because she cared for him the way he still cared for her.

It was at that moment that the thunder of hooves rattled the air.

Adara turned to face the sound. Issuing a grunt of annoyance, Grahame strode to the gate, wrenching open the viewing panel to see the commotion.

Adara was on his heels, pulling at his arm so she could see.

Past the fence, amid the well-worn field beyond, an army sat at Adara’s doorstep.