by Donna Grant
Aisley pulled out some money and dropped it on the table next to the ticket before she rose to head back to her car. She blew out a long breath when she was once more behind the wheel.
Sleep was the best thing for her migraine, but there wasn’t time for that. She knew without a doubt that Phelan was tracking her.
“Why didn’t he kill me?” she asked herself.
No matter how many times she had thought about what occurred in Glasgow, she still couldn’t grasp why he hadn’t killed her. He almost made it look as if he were helping her.
And he let her leave.
“Another question I won’t have answered.”
But did she really want answers from the Warrior with the devastating smile and eyes that stripped her bare every time he looked at her?
Yes, God help her, she did.
He was exciting, dangerous, and stirring. Just as he was seduction in a tall, dark package she desperately wanted to rip into.
Aisley shook her head. “He’s a Warrior from MacLeod Castle. He’s supposed to kill me,” she reminded herself.
If only he would wait until she could stop Jason for good. She started the Fiat Bravo and pulled back onto the road. She had a long way to go yet.
* * *
Phelan watched Aisley with barely contained desire from a copse of trees as he sat atop his motorbike. He frowned at how she kept her head away from the sun, as if her sunglasses weren’t enough to shade her eyes.
It was also the way she held her shoulders that alerted him something was wrong. She looked tired, but also unwell. That’s the only thing that stopped him from approaching her again. His seduction was on hold. Again.
Damn, but did the woman know how tempting, how irresistible she was? Could she understand how the driving need to have her in his arms had him in knots?
Phelan waited for her to drive at least twenty minutes ahead of him before he followed. Just as he began to reach for his helmet, his mobile rang.
He pulled it out of his pocket and saw it was a call from Charon. “Aye?”
“Wanted to let you know it looks like Britt’s serum is working. It’s nearly ready to be tested.”
Phelan was glad of the news, and even happier to hear the note of relief in his friend’s voice. “Good. How soon until it’s ready?”
“Aiden has asked for a couple more days, but I could hear the excitement in Ian’s voice when he called.”
“Now might be a good time to have Fallon jump you back to the castle.”
“Why?” Charon asked suspiciously. “Have you found something of Wallace?”
Phelan briefly closed his eyes, knowing he wasn’t doing himself or Charon any favors by following Aisley instead of searching for Wallace. Yet, Phelan told himself that he was searching—as he followed Aisley.
“I would’ve told you if I had. I assumed you’d want to be with the others at the castle to celebrate.”
“I’ll celebrate when this shite is finished.” There was a pause over the line, and then Charon let out a sigh. “I’d rather be preparing for an unwinnable battle than waiting as we are.”
“I wish I had good news, my friend.”
“You suspect you’ll find him.” It wasn’t a question.
And Phelan wasn’t in the habit of lying, especially to Charon, who was like a brother to him. “Aye, I do. Just as Deirdre resurrected, I think Wallace will do the same if he is dead.”
“There wasna a body after the battle was over,” Charon pointed out.
“That means nothing and you know it. It’s a matter of when and how.”
“And how he’ll attack us.”
“Precisely.”
“He’ll come after me and Laura first,” Charon said.
Phelan wished he had words to reassure his friend, but he didn’t. “If he’s stupid enough to do it a second time, then we’ll be waiting. Would it make you feel better if I was in Ferness to help you guard Laura?”
“Aye, but you need to stay out there. Fallon jumped Isla, Reaghan, and Marcail here a few days ago to set up protection shields around the building and they will alert us to a drough getting close to the village.”
“That’ll give you enough time to get Laura away.”
“Like I did last time? We all know how well that went. She nearly died.”
Phelan was at a loss how to respond, but that normally happened when he saw or heard Isla’s name. He must have sat there in his thoughts too long because Charon began cussing.
“Sorry. I didna mean to say Isla’s name.”
Phelan shrugged even though Charon couldn’t see it. “Doona fash yourself about it. It’s fine.”
“Nay, it’s no’, and that’s what worries me. After all this time, you have no’ forgiven her, have you?”
“I’m trying.” And Phelan was, just not as much as he should be.
“Deirdre had all of us in some way, shape, or form. You know what she did to me and what she made me do. Isla explained why she tricked you as a lad to leave your family and go with her.”
“I know,” Phelan said harshly. He slammed his fist on his thigh. “I can no’ talk about it without losing my temper, Charon.”
“That’s just it, my friend. You doona talk about it, and you should.”
“It’s better if I doona. Isla is at the castle, and I’m here. The few times I do have to see her is when we’re going into battle. That I can handle.”
There was another pause on Charon’s end of the phone. “She’s a good person. She suffered just as we did. Try to remember that.”
“If I doona, Hayden is there to protect her from me.”
Charon laughed, but Phelan hadn’t been joking. The only thing that kept him from attacking Isla was her husband.
“It looks like we need to have that chat again about the differences between mies and droughs,” Charon said.
“There’s no need. I know the difference.”
“Then you should know Isla isna just a drough.” Gone was Charon’s teasing tone. It had turned hard as steel.
This was something new. Always before Charon had felt the same as Phelan regarding MacLeod Castle and those within its walls. What had changed?
“She underwent the drough ceremony. That makes her a drough,” Phelan argued.
“There’s more to her story than that. You know I’m right.”
“What I know is that I kill droughs.”
Charon gave a wry laugh through the phone. “You know, Hayden used to hunt them as well. He ended up in love with one.”
“No’ me. And Hayden should never have stopped hunting them. It’s droughs who keep us in constant battle. You want peace for your life with Laura, my brother, then you need to be hunting and killing the droughs as well.”
Phelan ended the call before Charon could respond. It wasn’t like Charon to defend Isla or those at the castle. Was that what falling in love meant? That he would suddenly change his views on everything?
“No’ likely,” Phelan muttered as he put on his helmet and started the Ducati.
He waited for two cars to pass before he pulled out of the stand of trees and onto the road.
No matter how many miles passed beneath his tires, he couldn’t get the conversation with Charon out of his head. It angered him that Charon was defending Isla.
Isla had had a choice. She decided to take a small lad away from his family to be locked away in a cold, dank prison for years. Chained, lonely, and scared, the darkness never easing away.
There was no forgiveness for Isla.
Not now.
Not ever.
Isla tried to redeem herself when she unlocked him from the magical chains that bound him to Cairn Toul Mountain. He should’ve killed her then, but her wounds had been severe enough he’d thought she would die on her own. But she hadn’t. Somehow she survived and wound up at MacLeod Castle.
Mercy would never come for him.
Retribution, however, would.
That sickening feeling of being betr
ayed stayed with a person. He had been but a small lad, but even then he realized what happened to him. There was no forgiveness in him for anyone who deceived him.
It wasn’t as if he wanted to kill people, but if he didn’t they would be fighting droughs until the end of time. Druids seemed to be fading away, yet there was always a drough ready to take over the world.
Phelan refused to give Isla any more thought. He pushed her from his mind and followed Aisley for several more hours. Phelan made sure to keep far enough back that she didn’t realize he was tailing her.
He wasn’t surprised when she stopped at a small town around six for another bite to eat. Once more Phelan found a place to keep watch out of sight.
While she ordered, he did a quick search of the town to check for other Druids, especially droughs. He wasn’t surprised to know that Aisley’s magic was the only one he felt.
She had her food by the time he made it back to his motorbike. He began to worry when he saw her take a pill, and then shield her eyes from the lamplight above her.
No matter what she said, Phelan wasn’t going to let her go another night without sleep. He crossed the street to the small hotel and paid for a room.
* * *
Aisley wasn’t sure her food was going to stay down. The migraine hadn’t let up. She took another pill and prayed this time it would help.
She kept eyeing the lighted hotel sign flashing Vacancy from the restaurant window. As tempting as it was, she would sleep for a few hours in her car, and then get back on the road.
Enough time had been wasted driving around Scotland gathering the money she needed to make her escape until she could take on Jason herself. She couldn’t explain it, but she felt as if her time was running out. Whether that meant her life, or time to get out of Scotland, she wasn’t sure.
And really didn’t want to find out.
Aisley ate as much of the soup and sandwich as she could before she paid and walked out of the restaurant. The cool night air felt good on her heated flesh.
She took only two steps when the world began to tilt. Aisley grabbed hold of the side of the building to keep her feet. After several deep breaths, the spinning continued until she knew she was about to fall on her face.
Just before she did, strong arms wrapped around her, and a voice, smooth, sexy, and altogether too dangerous, whispered her name.
“I’ve got you,” Phelan said.
Aisley wanted to demand he put her down, but the world finally stopped spinning. She latched onto his thickly muscled shoulders and leaned her head against him.
It should be a sin for someone to be as handsome and roguishly charming as Phelan. She had no defense for him, but in the back of her mind, she conceded that she didn’t want one.
He was sin and seduction, sex and persuasion. He had been perfectly formed to make a woman mindless with desire. He was wild and untamed, just like their land, and that gave him a thread of danger that sent her senses reeling.
It never entered her mind to push away from him. Regardless of whether she liked it or not, she needed him that night.
“You’re going to get some sleep, beauty. You’ll thank me in the morn.”
Her eyelids closed even as she formulated a response. “No,” was all she got out.
CHAPTER
SIX
Phelan knew something was wrong the moment he saw Aisley’s face. She was too pale, her shoulders held high in a sign of pain.
He reached her in three strides when he saw her grab ahold of the building. It was a good thing, too, or he might not have made it to her in time before she fell.
With a nod to the staring, wide-eyed hotel clerk, Phelan strode past him to the stairs. There was an urgency pushing him to get Aisley inside the room, but he was careful not to jar her, which meant going slower.
He looked down to see Aisley’s closed eyes. Her forehead was still creased in a slight frown. Phelan got them inside the room and quickly lay her on the bed.
After removing her shoes and covering her with a blanket, he reached for her purse and the medicine bottle he knew was inside. He didn’t recognize the name of the medication, but with a quick search on the Internet with his phone, he learned it was prescribed for migraines.
“Damn,” he whispered and returned the pills to her purse.
Phelan knew nothing of migraines. He pulled up a chair beside the bed and simply stared at Aisley. The steady rise and fall of her chest let him know she was sleeping deeply.
He should leave her, but he found he couldn’t. Phelan gently moved aside strands of her hair from her face. Her golden skin was as soft as mink, and no matter how he tried, he couldn’t stop touching her.
Phelan ran a finger over her forehead to smooth out the lines. She sighed in her sleep and turned her head toward him. He licked his lips, the need to hold her in his arms and taste her sweet mouth again too much to bear.
Control over his god and his urgings had been something Phelan learned quickly. He reined in his desire. Barely.
His cock ached to be inside Aisley, to hear her scream his name as he filled her again and again. And no matter how long it took, he would have her in his bed.
Phelan wound a strand of her midnight locks around his finger. “How long will you make me chase you, beauty?”
While he watched her sleep, he did another search on his phone and learned about migraines. By the time he finished reading the fourth Web site, he was frowning.
He had no idea they could be so debilitating. Was she light sensitive or sound sensitive? He recalled the way she had worn her sunglasses in the eatery at lunch and decided she must be light sensitive.
Phelan rose and hurried to close the curtains to block out any light that might filter in from outside. He didn’t bother with a lamp since his enhanced eyesight allowed him to see just as clearly in darkness as it did in the light.
He resumed his seat next to the bed and let her magic wash over him. It wasn’t as … clean … as when he felt mie magic. It was almost as if Aisley’s magic held a drop of excitement, a punch of attitude, a dash of charm, and a bucket full of seduction.
It was a mixture he’d never encountered, and the more he was around her, the more he craved her magic.
Phelan comprehended all too well that he was treading on dangerous ground. During the first weeks he chased her, he told himself it was because she was the only woman who hadn’t fallen easily into his bed.
Now, he was sure it was much more than that. Aisley enchanted him, captivated him … enthralled him as no one had in the very long years of his life.
That in itself should be making him run the opposite way. He wasn’t the settling-down type. He was a wanderer, a drifter. The life suited him.
The more he thought of Aisley and his confusing feelings, the more restless Phelan became. He paced the room, but it didn’t help.
He should walk away, leave and never look back. Charon was counting on him. Wallace had to be found and Aisley was a distraction he didn’t need.
Finally he walked out into the hall and drew out his mobile. He stared at the screen wondering if he should tell Charon about Aisley. Charon was always the voice of reason. If anyone would know what he should do, it was the man he called brother.
His finger hovered over Charon’s number, but he couldn’t dial it. At the last second he chose another number. Though Phelan had never called Malcolm before he’d heard how the others could never get him to answer. So, imagine Phelan’s surprise when Malcolm answered on the second ring.
“Did you find him?” Malcolm asked.
Phelan flattened his lips. “Well, hello to you as well.”
“Did you?” Malcolm repeated in a flat voice.
“If I did, do you think I’d be so casual?”
There was a slight hesitation before Malcolm said, “Nay.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m in the north up near Wick.”
Phelan leaned his head back against the wall. “I’m south o
f Glasgow and have felt nothing of Wallace.”
“I have no’ either. The MacLeods will be joining in the search soon.”
Phelan’s eyes snapped open. “All the Warriors?”
“Nay. Just the brothers.”
“How do you know this?”
The sound of a hollow laugh filtered through the phone. “Because I know Fallon. He willna stay cooped up for long, regardless of what Larena wants him to do.”
“We could use the extra help.”
“Aye. I’m going to go back by Wallace’s mansion tomorrow and see what I find there.”
“That’s a good idea,” Phelan said. “What do you know of Wallace’s associates?”
“The other droughs? No’ much other than the few that survived scattered.”
That was interesting. “How many survived?”
“Maybe two. You wanting to find them?”
“I’m thinking it might be a good start if Wallace does come back.”
Malcolm grunted. “Everyone assumes he died in that blast.”
“You were there. You know how powerful that was.”
“I also know there was potent magic being used by Wallace and the other Druids. That magic could’ve sent him anywhere.”
Phelan raked a hand through his hair and sighed. “Meaning he could be in the future?”
“Or the past, or floating in another reality.”
“Bugger it. We could be searching the rest of our lives.”
Malcolm blew out a breath through the phone. “Wallace waited a year to get everything in order before he attacked us. If we give him that kind of time again, we may no’ win.”
“I think we’ve all realized that. Let me know what you find tomorrow at Wallace Mansion.”
“Who is she?” Malcolm asked.
Phelan paused. “Who?”
“The woman who’s got you spun around.”
Phelan chuckled softly. “There’s no woman.”
“There’s always a woman with you, but more than that, you’ve never called me, Phelan.”
“I was calling about Wallace.”
“There’s no reason to lie.”
