Page 50

Chapter

Forty-Five

Adara

“ T o think, after all this time, your brother’s scheming finally caught up with him,” Grahame murmured.

The grim set to Ridley’s mouth did not speak of pain.

It did not tell a tale of the bond he and Oswald once shared.

Instead of replying, he knelt by the body slumped at the bottom of the dungeon’s stairs and placed the palm of his hand against Oswald’s forehead.

Black blood dried around the wound in the priest’s gut.

It appeared as if he’d been stabbed then thrown down the stairs.

Adara shivered. Grahame lifted the torch higher for Ridley to see.

“I am sorry for the loss of your brother,” Adara said, filling the heavy silence.

Ridley hung his head, as if the sentiment was a burden. “No one else will be,” he said, his voice thick.

Adara looked to Grahame who stared at her with a mixture of uncertainty and knowing.

He had told her of all Oswald had done to Yrsa and knew now of the role he played in Hyrstow’s suffering.

Still, she could sympathize with the heaviness of grief for the person you once cared for, even if that person was despicable.

With a quick inhale, Ridley rose. The torch caught a sheen in his eyes.

Grahame lowered it as he said, “I’ll have some men come down to retrieve him.”

They trudged up the stairs, finished with their inspection of the house.

It had been decided to check all the rooms before greeting the Deircia soldiers.

Awareness over the importance of the impending conversation weighed Adara’s shoulders down.

She’d just done away with one ruler and now had to contend with the steward of another.

Thankfully, only Grahame seemed to notice.

He snaked a hand around her waist and pressed a kiss to her hair.

For a blissful moment, Adara sagged into his touch, drawing strength.

Upon entering the great room, however, she infused her spine with iron.

She walked straight for the table’s head, ignoring the noblemen who awkwardly stood by the fire, then stood in front of the chair her father had placed there.

Grahame claimed the space to her left while the others sat with Langley and two of his knights.

“Please, Sir Langley, forgive me for having nothing to offer. The last few days have been quite trying.”

The older man nodded. He placed his helm on the table before him.

“Earl Lachlan received word from Ridley that the Earl of Bernira was setting fire to Dercia lands. That there was an impending battle. We have come to assist yet see that we are too late.”

Adara polished her nails on the breast of her tunic.

“Indeed.”

Langley had the grace to grimace. “Thank you for saving me the work of it. I’ve also been sent with a message from the earl. It would be in the best interest of the earldom to be absorbed by Deircia.”

Rage ignited in Adara. There was no way they’d fought this hard, sacrificed all they had, simply to hand it over to Deircia. Alliances were valuable, yet they were not about to reshape Northumbria. If Earl Lachlan thought he could do so, he was out of his mind.

Spreading her hands, she said, “I am Bernira’s heir. Bernira will no longer salivate after Hyrstow. We will remain on our side of the border. I will acquiesce some tax in order to ease the bond between the earldoms. That is all.”

Langley’s brow rose as a smirk touched his lips.

“Already so generous. So willing to prove you are not your father,” he murmured. He drummed his fingers on the tabletop, thinking.

“Do you accept?” Adara demanded.

Grahame leaned on his elbows. “Respectfully, sir, it seems as if you have interpreted my wife being born of Eadric as a weakness. It is not. He was a cruel man, one who honed his daughter into a cunning woman. One with a heart that would see her earldom prosper. I am of Hyrstow descent. We want nothing more than the benefit of our realms.”

Langley’s eyes darkened a shade, as if he took Grahame’s words as a threat. He had more men. If he wanted, he could slaughter them all and plunge the earldoms into further chaos. Heart pounding, Adara pressed for her right to rule.

“These are the most powerful lords in Bernira. They have come to my side in order to aid the smooth transfer of title from my father to me. All of their households know of their pledge to me, and they’ve sent word to the other consequential lords stating their desire to uphold my birthright.

They further insist upon the legality of my marriage to my husband, Grahame Shepherd of Hyrstow.

I will not give him up, nor my lands, despite your belief that we are easy to conquer. "

Adara did not flinch over the conflated ownership she claimed. To her delight, Bennet, Mehghan, and Lowry remained stoic, nodding along with her assertion.

“Indeed,” Lowry said, “Adara Clayton’s husband is now our recognized earl. Long may they live, ruling together.”

Finally, a laugh like the snap of a branch cracked from Langley.

“I see that you have been forged in fire, Adara of Bernira. And though I plan to carefully oversee the peace between our realms, I am glad that you do not back down so easy. It gives me hope for our future.”

Details of the changeover came after that, sparse food accompanying the arrangements. By the time Langley retreated to his camp with Ridley and Yrsa, Adara was swaying with exhaustion.

“You were remarkable.”

Grahame was shirtless as he stoked the fire in her bedroom.

The bed had been knifed open, feathers and straw bleeding out.

Grahame and Adara laid a spare blanket and their cloaks overtop the hole.

A makeshift mattress for a makeshift earldom.

And, despite her fatigue, Adara watched the ripple of Grahame’s muscles as she stripped out of her tunic.

“As did you, Earl.”

Grahame’s grin was one she wished she could imprint in her mind forever. He ambled over to her, his pants slipping down as he slid his belt from its loops. Adara’s attention dropped with it.

“Eyes up here, Wife,” he said, his tone low.

It made her middle clench. With a sort of hungry leisure, Grahame cupped her face up to bring his lips down on hers.

Heat flushed through her. She ran her hands up Grahame’s chest, suddenly needing to feel all of him. That was until doubt reared its head.

“Grahame, are you ready for this? I forced you into—”

“If you utter the words ‘forced you into this marriage’ one more time, I will leave a handprint on that fine ass of yours so angry, you won’t be able to sit tomorrow. I am yours, ’Dara. Running an earldom sounds like child’s play compared to what we’ve just been through.”

He bent to kiss her again, his hands roaming from her face to her neck, then scraping down her shoulders. His rough palms settled on her bare back, while his thumbs drew lazy circles into her skin. It was enough to make the space between Adara’s legs pant with want.

She arched her brow, a devilish smile spreading her lips.

“Forced you into marriage,” she taunted, a dare in her tone.

Grahame’s eyes glinted with a wickedness she’d not seen since before her father arrived.

Then he was bending down, tipping her over, banding one arm around her legs to brace her over his shoulder.

She squirmed as she laughed, the sound good and strong and joyous as it left her body.

It was shortly accompanied by a shriek as Grahame’s wide palm met with the flesh of her backside.

“You monster!” she squealed.

“You must be one as well, Wife. Since we are one !” Grahame hollered as he tossed her to the mattress then nestled his hips between her legs. She tried to cover his mouth, but he playfully bit at her until she let her hand fall away.

Then he kissed her, deep and hard, until her soul sang with a happiness that she knew would last forever.