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Chapter

Twenty-Eight

Grahame

G rahame clenched his eyes shut before opening them. He was a traitor to his own people, having sat and ate among those who had terrorized his village. His affection for Adara compelled him to do things he’d never imagined. He was like a piece of cloth being torn in two.

“You’ve harmed my people. Those I love. It is difficult for me to reconcile your actions with your care for your tenants. It has shown me, again, that there is another side to you I do not know. One who will make decisions independently.”

Adara shrugged out of his grasp. Though Grahame was loath to let her go, he did, fisting his hands beneath his arms as he crossed them.

“Indeed, I do. I have and I will continue to make plans and rule as I see fit.”

She crossed the room to stand by the candle. Her hand moved a few inches over the flame. Frustration or annoyance crossed her features, Grahame was not sure which.

“You are upset that I do not share my plans with you? Is that it?”

Grahame blew out a breath. He turned to the door to gain his bearings. Were her plans the problem? Admittedly, he was not one for grand schemes. Yet Adara, the woman who made him whole, was still unknowable. He felt as if he would never know her.

He rubbed his palms together as he turned. She remained still, her hands on her hips. Gorgeous in the flickering glow.

“Yes. I know you have no reason to tell me as I am simply following your orders, but I would like to know what is coming, Adara.”

His wife crossed her arms. The steely glint returned to her eye. “What is it, Grahame? You must be explicit. Are you angry because you wish to know my plans or are you angry because you must abide by a woman’s rule?”

Agitation ignited in him at her tone.

“Both. Neither.”

“Both?”

“Yes, Adara, both. But also neither.” Grahane raked a hand through his hair.

He slung his hands on his hips as he tried to articulate the duelling feeling of unease and hurt.

“I cannot trust you for you do not share what is going on until it is in my lap. You do not trust me enough to tell me. I couldn’t care less about your rule, yet I would like an equal part in decisions if they affect your life—our lives. ”

It was the wrong thing to say.

Adara’s lip curled. “You claim to want trust, though you will not give me the same courtesy. Why would I trust you when you did not find me important enough to track down when you’d received word that Elvin was dead?

You paid for information about me, yet you remained in happy Hyrstow, unwilling to bring us together.

I had to do so through one of the schemes you hate so much. ”

“Do not act as if you are some savior to our bond because you forced us together. I had no idea I could come for you! Our differing status—”

Adara raised her hand for quiet. Grahame heeded her, biting off his words so that Hagan or Thor did not break down the door.

Adara hissed, “How can I trust a man who did not come for me? Why would I tell you all of my secrets when I have no idea if my plan will work?”

The words struck Grahame like a backhand.

“The plan with your father? Have you no inkling? Or do you care so little for me that you are willing to have me killed?”

Adara’s face crumpled. Her hands covered it but not before Grahame saw the tears glistening in her eyes. He strode to her, pulling her hands away. Her next words were raw.

“I care too much for you, Grahame. I was selfish and so full of spite that I told myself what I wanted was all that mattered. I could not stand to be married off again. You were what I wanted most, so I claimed you. Now, I am sorry. So, so sorry. I panic thinking of the harm that might befall you because of me.”

Tears slipped down her cheeks. Grahame brushed them away with his thumbs while his heart wrestled with his head. Fear for himself was a living thing inside him, yet would he rather she not have brought them together?

No. His life had been good, filled with friends and family. Yet, since meeting Adara, it has been flavorless. The same thing over and over. He’d dulled himself so expertly, even he did not realize until he saw her again how faded he’d become.

He placed a tender kiss on her forehead as a deep knowing settled within him.

“I hate that we lost so much time. I should have sought you out, regardless of your marriage. I loathe that I was not there for you in the ways that mattered, Adara. I accept the risks of being with you.”

Adara shook her head. “No. You want to know my plans? Fine. They have all gone awry, anyway. I release you instead. You can go back home; I will marry who my father says, and you will be safe.”

Every muscle in Grahame tightened like a string pulled taut. He would never allow her to marry someone else.

“Never,” he growled, running his palms down her arms. He knelt, keeping her hands in his as he looked up into her worried face.

“You will never marry again. You are mine . I am glad you did what you did. Not the way you harmed my people but that you forced us together. I am glad for your sharp mind and steel spine. I simply ask to know more of you, ’Dara.

Your plans and ambitions. I am but a humble man not bred for this life.

I do not want to lead, I leave that to you.

You can keep your sorrys because I choose you. ”

Adara sniffed as a small, crooked smile spread across her lips. Grahame squeezed her hands.

Despite the floor digging into his knees, he continued. “You tow a dangerous line with these people, ’Dara. How long until you have no funds with which to help?”

Adara let out a long breath. “I admit that my coffers are large, yet I wish to convince my father to lessen his tax. If I prove I can keep Hyrstow in check, that I can handle my own affairs with our marriage, he will see that I can set tax rules as I see fit. These people do not have much, and Elvin did not advocate for them in the manner which I want to.”

Grahame kissed the backs of Adara’s hands, love for her overwhelming his senses. He stood. Adara’s arms wrapped around his middle, crushing him to her as tears soaked his tunic.

“I wish I had done it all differently,” she sobbed.

Grahame held her to him, breathing with her until she calmed.

“Thank you for your truth,” he murmured.

Her hands wove about his waist, but she did not speak further.

Grahame did not tell her of the manner in which he loved her, nor the too large feelings of elation and fear that thrashed inside him.

Instead, they stood like that a long while, just breathing the other in.

When he skimmed his lips across the bridge of her nose, she sighed.

And when his hands wandered to her hips, her mouth sought his.

They left in the watery grey light of the morning, dew wetting their boots.

Across hills and valleys then further, Grahame was able to get a glimpse of the place he now called home.

Clayton House’s steepled roof peeked out from the log wall, its thatch bright in the timid sunlight. Closer, the fence’s gate was open.

“There appears to be a band of riders at the gate,” Hagan said, though such words were unnecessary. In the distance, riders bearing flags of dark grey sat atop horses.

Adara halted, her hands going white on the reins. Grahame snapped his gaze to her in time to see her mouth drop open, horror filling her eyes.

“’Dara?” Grahame stopped, reaching out for her despite not being able to touch her while horsed.

She tried to speak, her mouth moving over words that would not obey. Grahame yanked his horse in front of his wife so she would see something other than what terrified her.

Pain, raw and hot, lived in her eyes as she shifted her gaze to Grahame.

“My father,” she said, the words like stones. “My father has come to Clayton House.”

Grahame felt a chill burrow through his skin. As he tore his gaze to the house, his mind offered the memory of the rat in the cellar.