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)
“Fia!” Varrick shouted and crouched down to gently turn her over, his arm supporting her back so all of her did not lie in the snow, and he cringed when he saw the blood on her brow where the arrow must have hit.
Fia moaned, fighting to open her eyes that suddenly shot wide when she recalled what had happened. Grateful to see her husband and be in his arms, she asked, “Sinead?”
“She flew off. You suffered the arrow for her,” Varrick said.
“Where was I hit?” she asked, feeling no intense pain.
“Your head,” he said, his stomach twisting and thinking of how much worse it could have been and how he could have lost her.
Her hand went to her head, and she winced. “Nay. I think I hit my head when I fell.”
“My lord,” Argus said, holding up a section of Fia’s cloak to show a tear there, then pointed to a spot where an arrow lay on the ground. “It missed her.”
“I need to tend my wound,” Fia said and grabbed her husband’s arm as she struggled to sit up.
“You are not going anywhere just yet. You need to go easy,” he warned, keeping his arm firmly around her and forcing her to stay put.
“How did you know Sinead was in danger?” Argus asked as he went to retrieve the arrow.
Fia had enough wits about her to know if she spoke the truth, she would surely be thought a witch, but then how did she explain?
“There will be time enough for questions later,” Varrick ordered, taking a handful of snow to place on her head wound, something he had seen Lloyd do countless times after a snowy winter battle.
Fia sighed. “Perfect. That will help stop the bleeding some.”
They were suddenly surrounded by several clan warriors, ready to defend Lord Varrick and his wife.
“Get Lady Fia back to the safety of the keep, my lord, and I will go see how Corwin and Marsh do,” Argus said.
“The arrow?” Varrick asked as he eased his wife to her feet, keeping a solid hold on her.
“Not a very well made one and no signs of who it may belong to,” Argus said.
“Let me know as soon as you find anything,” Varrick ordered and, before he lifted his wife gently in his arms, he whistled, a signal that let Sinead know she was to return home.
“She will return to her perch?” Fia asked anxiously, still worried for the hawk and thinking as her husband settled her in his arms that it was not necessary for him to carry her. She could walk on her own.
“She will and there she will wait for me.”
“I can walk,” Fia said, then regretted saying so since she was quite comfortable in her husband’s strong arms.
“I doubt that since I can feel you are not steady on your feet,” he said as he started walking, the troop of warriors flanking either side of him as they went.
“You may be right,” she said and laid her head on his shoulder.
It was a short distance to the castle walls and not long before they reached the keep, though they were followed every step of the way by curious and worried glances.
“This incident may help prove that someone truly is plotting against me,” Varrick said as they entered the keep.
Merry hurried toward them when they entered the Great Hall. “How may I help, my lord?”
Fia responded, “A hot brew, if you would, Merry, and clean cloths, a bucket of warm water, and some honey so I can coat my wound once it is cleansed.”
“Aye, my lady, I will see the items brought to you right away,” Merry said and issued orders as she hurried off, sending the servants scurrying.
“There was no time to fetch you,” Fia said as they climbed the stairs, wanting to explain her actions and make him understand why she did what she did.
“Tell me,” he urged, eager to hear and eager to keep her in his arms as long as he could since there was the safest place she could be.
Fia relaxed against him, cherishing his warmth and how protectively he kept her tucked close. “The voice warned me that Sinead was in danger. I could not take the chance and wait to find you. I had to reach her before it was too late.”
“You saved her and for that I am grateful, though,” —his brow shot up— “you definitely need snowball throwing lessons.”
She smiled. “I was not trying to hit her just chase her.”
That he teased her warmed her heart and when he gently sat her on the bed once in their bedchamber, she almost reached out to grab his arm, not ready to let go of him. But with the sound of the servants on the stairs, she reluctantly let her hands fall in her lap.
When they were once again alone, he moved a bench to place in front of her, and with a tender nudge of his knee between her legs to spread them apart, he moved the bench and himself closer.