by Donna Grant
He knew he wanted her beside him, wanted to share her smiles, her laughter, and whatever else came their way.
But would it be enough when he watched the life fade from her eyes?
“I’ll admit I’m holding out hope that somehow our gods are bound again,” Quinn said into the silence.
Broc turned his head to Quinn. “And if they are no’? You will accept that you will live on as Marcail and your unborn child willna?”
Quinn’s head jerked with a nod. “I love her more than anything. Whatever time I have with her I will cherish and enjoy every moment of. I doona want to lose her, but I would rather spend a few years with her than never know the love between us.”
Broc thought over Quinn’s words as he continued to watch Sonya. Maybe Quinn had the right of it. Whatever time Broc might have with Sonya was better than no time at all.
Sonya’s head suddenly lifted and their gazes clashed. It was time to talk to her, time to speak of what was between them. And if there was a future for them.
He jumped from the battlements and landed softly, on bent knees in the bailey. Broc’s long strides took him around the kitchen to the garden. But Sonya wasn’t there. He caught sight of her walking toward the village.
Broc inwardly smiled when Sonya looked over her shoulder at him. He didn’t waste another moment following her. Broc didn’t need to use his power to find Sonya, all he had to do was follow the trail of her magic.
It led him through the village and inside one of the newly completed cottages. He pushed open the door. Sonya stood facing the hearth, her face in profile to him.
He stepped over the threshold and softly closed the door behind him. Words ran through his head, words he wanted to say to Sonya, but he didn’t know where to begin.
She exhaled and turned to face him. The corners of her lips were tilted in a soft smile. “I’m glad you followed me.”
“I couldna stay away if I wanted.” The truth of his words slammed into him like an arrow. And suddenly the curse didn’t matter.
Nothing mattered as long as he had Sonya. He took a step toward her, his hands itching to touch her smooth skin. “There is much I need to say.”
Her amber gaze dropped from his. “And much I would speak of as well.”
“I know I’m no’ the best of men,” Broc began. He moved closer a step. “I doona have a title or the land that was once mine. The only thing I have is coin and … myself.”
His heart pounded loudly in his chest. He had never mastered the art of flattery, had never learned how to charm women. All Broc knew to do was speak the truth. A truth that came straight from his heart.
He didn’t expect Sonya to accept his offer. There was so much more that awaited her if she took a mortal. But, as he stared at her, Broc knew he would give Deirdre his soul if only Sonya would be his.
“I care not for your coin, land, or title,” Sonya said. She lifted her head and searched his eyes. “Those things do not make the man I have watched risk his life countless times, the man I know will always be there for me.”
Broc took another step, bringing him even closer. “Is it enough? Will knowing I will be there for you without fail be enough?”
“Is it enough for you?”
“I fear forever might no’ be enough.” He took the last step which brought him to her.
Sonya inhaled deeply. “It wasn’t until I saw you standing outside Marcail and Quinn’s chamber that I knew you would change my life. I had no idea then that you already had. When you are near I want to be with you. When you are gone, all I can think of is you.”
“Sonya…”
She raised her hand to quiet him. “Everything I had hoped for died when I saw Anice in your arms. Your grief made me believe you were in love with her.”
“I wasna.”
“I know that now. When I knew there might be a chance Deirdre would find me, I decided I wouldn’t live my life watching anymore. I wanted to know what it felt like to be in your arms. To feel you.”
Broc swallowed hard. “And afterward?”
“I knew whatever had pulled me to you before would never let go. I told you once I was yours. I meant it then. And I mean it now. I love you.”
He touched her cheek, then slid his hand around to the nape of her neck. The words he had never thought to utter filled him. “I love you.”
The smile on Sonya’s face was radiant, making her amber eyes flash. She rose up on tiptoe and wound her arms around his neck. “I fear I’m dreaming.”
“You’ve said the words. You are mine now. I willna let you go. Ever.”
“Just what I wanted to hear,” she said before she kissed him.
Broc nibbled her lips before he slanted his mouth over hers and swept his tongue inside. Passion and fire exploded within him.
Everything in his life had changed, just as it had when Deirdre had first taken him all those years ago. But this time Broc embraced the love Sonya offered and looked ahead with a smile.
“There’s one more thing I would ask of you,” he said between kisses.
Sonya laughed breathlessly as she leaned her head back so he could kiss her neck. She had everything she could ever want, and she had never been so deliriously happy. “Anything.”
“Be my wife.”
She stilled and looked into his dark, beautiful depths. “I…”
“I know I’m immortal, and there may be a chance the spell to bind my god will never be found. There’s also the chance the curse will come to you. It is for that reason I contemplated staying away from you. But I cannot. You have my heart. You have always had my heart. Immortal or mortal, I am nothing without you.”
Sonya blinked away the tears which suddenly filled her eyes. “And I am nothing without you, my dark Warrior. Aye, I will marry you.”
He smiled as his look turned wicked. Broc guided her backward until her legs bumped against the bed. “When?”
“Wh … whenever,” she said with a gasp as he ripped her gown down the middle and cupped her breast.
“Tonight. I want you to be mine tonight.”
Sonya smiled as he laid her on the bed. She was already his. Now and forever.
THIRTY-SIX
Broc sat at the table in the great hall with Sonya pressed against him. She was officially his, and had been for two days now. The wedding had been hasty, the ceremony quick, but they were joined.
Thankfully, Cara had convinced the priest not to venture too far from the castle or Broc would have had to find one himself.
For the last few hours they had been discussing their next move. Larena wanted Malcolm found, and Isla wanted Broc to search for Phelan.
Logan stood at the door even now waiting for Fallon to give him the nod to travel to the Isle of Eigg and search for the Tablet of Orn.
Camdyn, Lucan, and Arran were arguing in favor of drawing Deirdre to the castle to try to learn what she had planned.
“If she didna tell Sonya before, she willna tell you now,” Broc said. “Deirdre has her mind set on her newest plan. Nothing will dissuade her from it.”
“Not even the knowledge of the Tablet of Orn?” Marcail asked. “Maybe we could tempt her with that.”
Fallon shook his head. “I doona want her to know of it. If she hadn’t told Broc of her search for the burial mound, we wouldna know of the Tablet.”
“She said there was an artifact there,” Ian pointed out as he rubbed his jaw.
Duncan, his twin, nodded. “She did. There is a difference between an artifact and a clue.”
“Maybe the artifact was the amulet I took,” Sonya said.
Broc frowned. The twins were right. Had they left the artifact behind? “We have no idea what the artifacts are. We only know of Reaghan because we were told she was the artifact. There were so many things in the tomb that any of them could have been the artifact.”
“There’s no doubt there is magic in the amulet,” Reaghan said. “It could be the artifact.”
“Yet, Sonya had been dr
awn to the sword,” Hayden added.
Broc ground his teeth together. He looked at Sonya and said, “We have to go back to the burial mound.”
“Aye,” Fallon said. “I’d feel better if we searched to make sure the amulet was the only artifact. We can always bring the sword with us just in case.”
Logan pushed away from the door. “We can no longer hold off, Fallon. I need to go to the Isle of Eigg.”
Fallon gave a nod. “You and Duncan be careful. Return as soon as you can.”
Duncan clasped hands with his twin before he went to stand beside Logan. “I will say the same to you. Deirdre may be setting a trap at the tomb.”
“I doona think so,” Broc said. “Deirdre doesna know what the artifact is.”
“Regardless, you’ll need to be careful,” Galen said.
They said their farewells to Logan and Duncan as the two Warriors set off on their quest. Broc took Sonya’s hand in his and brought it to his lips.
“I’m not afraid,” she said.
He chuckled. “I know.”
“The sooner we go, the sooner we return,” Fallon said.
Sonya winked at Broc. “Then let’s go.”
* * *
Malcolm stood beside Deirdre as he stared at the burial mound. He glanced down at his right arm, still unused to seeing it without the scars or being able to use it.
“Get inside the tomb,” Deirdre told him. “Find me the artifact.”
“How will I know what it is?”
Deirdre’s white eyes burned brilliant. “You will feel its power.”
Malcolm paused only a moment as he thought of Larena and everyone at MacLeod Castle. But any remorse he had he pushed aside.
He walked to the archway of the burial mound. The magic flowed freely over and around him. It pulsed with an odd cadence he found both intriguing and fearful.
Nothing stopped him as he moved beneath the archway to the huge stone door. He couldn’t read the Gaelic symbols, but Deirdre had told him what they meant. She had also told him he was the only one who could get inside the tomb.
The magic grew stronger the closer he moved to the stone door, its touch running deeper, almost as if it were learning him.
Malcolm gripped the stone and tried to pull open the door. Not even his considerable new strength could budge it. He tried three more times before he leaned a hand against the doorway.
Magic hissed along his palm before the markings began to glow blue. And the door opened.
Malcolm stepped over the threshold and the torches flared to life. He looked around at the tomb. So many weapons. Then he spotted the sword atop the corpse. He felt its power, felt its attraction.
There was only the briefest hesitation before he took the sword. As soon as he touched it, the markings glowed the same blue as those outside the door for just a moment.
Malcolm walked from the mound and didn’t look back. He had gotten what Deirdre wanted. She ruled him now.
And he feared she always would.
* * *
Broc stared in shocked silence at the open tomb. Sonya pushed passed him and entered the mound. He heard her gasp, but he didn’t need to see inside to know something was missing.
Someone had gotten into the mound. But who?
“I thought you said you were the only one who could enter,” Fallon said.
Broc shrugged. “Deirdre must have found someone else.”
“But who?”
Broc had a suspicion, but he wasn’t ready to blame Malcolm yet.
Sonya walked out of the tomb and shook her head. “The sword is gone.”
“This doesna make sense,” Fallon ground out as he ran a hand through his hair.
Sonya sighed. “Deirdre said Broc was the only one who could open the tomb.”
“Yet, you helped me,” he said.
She scrunched her face. “Did I? Or was it you all along?”
Broc didn’t have an answer.
“What now?” Fallon asked.
Sonya straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. “We find the sword, of course.”
“Nay,” Broc said. “We find the Warrior who did this. We find Malcolm.”
* * *
Phelan found himself in the precarious position of being curious about what was in the tomb and why everyone wanted inside. He’d stayed after using his power on Deirdre to find Broc and two other Warriors return for the Druid.
He’d seen Broc and Sonya’s reunion. So the Warrior hadn’t left her to die. He’d left her in the tomb for protection against Deirdre.
What Phelan didn’t understand was why the Warriors didn’t see how evil the Druid was. Didn’t they realize all Druids were evil? Or was Sonya different?
Phelan might have spent over a century in Cairn Toul, but even he could remember what it felt like to have his mother’s loving eyes look down upon him. It was definitely love he saw between Broc and Sonya, and joy on the other two Warriors’ faces.
But they had left too quickly for Phelan to approach them. Then, it wasn’t long before Deirdre returned. With a newly made Warrior.
The maroon Warrior looked irritated, and there was hate blazing in his eyes. A look Phelan knew all too well since he had directed it at Deirdre himself many times.
Somehow the maroon Warrior got inside the tomb and emerged with a sword. Deirdre quickly took them away from the tomb.
And just as Phelan had expected, Broc and Sonya returned with other Warriors. They had come for the sword, but they were too late.
Phelan debated on approaching them. He heard the name MacLeod and remembered Isla telling him if he ever needed anything to find the MacLeods. Was one of them down there now?
And if he was, did Phelan dare to talk to him?
Phelan decided it wasn’t time to meet any of the MacLeods. He still had exploring to do. He’d missed his Scotland, and he wanted to see all of her.
Not to mention, there was the pretty tavern maid he’d seen three days before. He thought he might return. For her.
With one last look at Broc, Sonya, and the other Warriors, Phelan turned his back on the burial mound and the MacLeods.
THIRTY-SEVEN
Mallaig, West Coast of Scotland
There was something about a marketplace that always made Logan think of his family. He usually kept memories of his parents and younger brother pushed far back in a corner of his mind, but once he had reached the mainland port of Mallaig, those memories had bombarded him.
He hadn’t tried to rid himself of them. In fact, he had allowed himself a few moments to remember a happier time, a time when life had been pleasant. A time when he had been a good son.
A time before he had betrayed his family.
“You’re quiet,” Duncan said from beside him as he surveyed the port town from the docks to the houses that lined the coast.
Logan shrugged and let his eyes continue to wander the teeming market. “Maybe I’m thinking.”
Duncan snorted. “You who makes jests and tease everyone mercilessly? I think no’.”
It was true. Logan had created a different side of himself, one that always wore a smile and made jests to hide the truth. It had worked effectively. Everyone thought he was something he wasn’t.
And if he had any say in it, no one would know the truth.
Logan turned to Duncan and regarded his friend. “I have no’ asked since we left MacLeod Castle, but why did you come? Why leave your twin?”
“I wanted to do something in this quest of ours. No’ that I doona enjoy protecting the castle and the Druids within, but I’m a Warrior. The god inside me wants to fight. And so do I.”
Duncan didn’t need to say more. Logan understood everything he didn’t convey into words. The only way to understand what it was to be a Warrior and contend with the constant fury and evil of the god inside them was to be a Warrior.
“And you?” Duncan asked. “Why did you leave the castle again?”
“As soon as Sonya mentioned the Isle of
Eigg, there was an overwhelming need for me to reach the isle. I cannot explain it, but the closer I’ve gotten to Eigg, the more it feels as if this is where I’m supposed to be.”
Duncan let out a long breath. “I’ve seen much in the way of magic throughout my two hundred years as a Warrior. I’ve seen the good magic of the mies and the evil of the droughs.”
“You think it’s magic pulling me here?”
“What else?”
Logan wasn’t sure what to think anymore. Memories he had hidden away for more than a century were returning, with no way for him to shove them away.
He didn’t know what was in store for him in the coming days, but whatever it was, he knew it would alter the course of his future. He didn’t care what it was as long as he could continue to fight against Deirdre.
The oath he had made to put an end to her rode him tirelessly. He hadn’t felt as if he were doing enough, which is why he was anxious to find the next artifact, the Tablet of Orn, which would lead them to the place where Deirdre’s twin, Laria, slept.
“The isle is protected,” Duncan murmured, his brown eyes narrowed in concentration.
Logan felt it. The magic was solid. Resilient. Stalwart. “There must be many Druids who make Eigg their home.”
“Aye. Many. Do you think they’ll allow us on their isle willingly?”
Logan grimaced as he recalled how the Druids at Loch Awe had reacted after learning he and Galen were Warriors. The magic of those Druids had waned. That of the Druids on Eigg had not. They wouldn’t easily be fooled.
“No’ if they fear Warriors. We’ll have to convince them we are no’ working with Deirdre.”
Duncan nodded, but before he could utter a word, the feeling of magic—drough magic—engulfed them.
“Deirdre,” they replied in unison as they unleashed their gods.
They spun around, ready to attack, to find Deirdre and a dozen yellow-skinned wyrran. Logan started toward the wyrran. It was Duncan’s growl that had him looking over his shoulder.
Two Warriors had taken hold of Duncan, and while they couldn’t subdue him, it was Deirdre’s black magic added to the mix that kept Duncan immobile.
