Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 97306 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97306 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Varrick’s hand shot to her face capturing it in a firm squeeze. “Fate does not dictate my life—I do. Now go to bed.” He shoved her away from him and turned to go stand by the hearth.
The only garment she removed before slipping beneath the blankets was her tunic. She rested on her side and focused on the width of her husband’s shoulders and the trimness of his waist and his mighty strength. Tales of his endless conquests had put fear of him into her before she had even met him. Who would not fear hearing that he commanded an army of the dead, but she had seen no such evidence of it. What she did see, to her surprise, was a legendary Highlander born out of necessity. A man who had never known love and believed he did not need it. A man who did not understand how much he craved love.
Fia yawned and her eyes closed on her, her last thought before she fell asleep was… the realization that she craved love just as much as he did.
Varrick’s thoughts were in turmoil. Never had he ever questioned a decision he had made. It was the reason he knew constant victory. He never doubted his plans, his action, himself until… he turned and looked at Fia.
She had changed everything. He now struggled with his decision to bring her here. He struggled accepting that she was a witch since he saw few signs of her being one. He struggled with his attraction to her, with an insatiable need to kiss her, hold her, touch her… keep her.
He ran his hand through his hair, frustrated. He had not wanted to admit that he found pleasure spending time with his wife, walking through the village with her, talking, watching how calm and gentle she was when tending to people or talking with them. He had never known that with a woman and now that he had, he did not want to let it go, let Fia go. He knew that one day he would need to wed and produce an heir to the clan. His plan had been to arrange a beneficial marriage. He had not thought twice about agreeing to Chieftain Newlin’s demand to wed Fia. He had no intention of keeping her as his wife.
Now when he thought about not having her there with him, not talking with her, not seeing her lovely face light with a smile, not feeling his hand close around her gentle one or feel her press against him when fearful, and never kiss her again, a rage roared within him that he did not think he could control.
Witch or healer? Which was she? Or did he care?
He went to the single chair near the hearth and dropped down on it, needing to rid himself of the burden heavy upon him. He had brought her here for a purpose and he needed to see that done. What would happen afterwards was another matter. And that was a question and decision that continued to haunt him.
“You will stay by me at all times,” Varrick ordered, adjusting his wife’s cloak around her, the day proving colder than yesterday.
“You have said that enough times to me for it to become instinctive,” Fia said, a soft smile on her face.
Her smiles were like arrows to his heart, though more delightfully painful than deadly. She had to be a witch for him to think that and for her smile to spark such pleasure in him.
Annoyance with himself turned his tongue curt. “Then I need not remind you again.”
Her smile blossomed. “But you will anyway.”
Did she know that for sure or was she being playful with him?
“My lord!”
Fia and Varrick both turned, Argus’s sudden appearances bringing worry of late.
“A body, my lord, in the woods,” Argus said, and those villagers nearby stopped to listen.
“One of our warriors?” Varrick asked, knowing the fear the death of a clan member would stir.
Argus shook his head. “Nay. An unknown man and not a mark on him.”
While the man was not of the clan softened the news some, since most would feel Arawn was appeased. But Varrick also understood that all would worry how long it would be before the God of Death struck again.
“Bring him here,” Varrick ordered. “We will see if anyone recognizes him.”
Argus cast a questioning glance at Fia, then quickly nodded to Varrick. “I will see to it.”
A commotion in the village caught their attention and Varrick and Argus turned to each other when they saw a rider racing through the village.
Trouble.
She needed no warning. She could see her husband and Argus prepared for it, their stances tensing, their bodies growing taut, and their hands going to rest on the hilt of their swords.
The young rider flung himself off his horse and stumbled his way to Varrick.