A Druid of Her Own: An Immortal Highlander (Druid Series Book 4)

by Mandy M. Roth

  “Aye. It would.” The man tossed his head back and laughed. He settled and then stared at her, his expression somber. “Lass, you do nae look to be dimwitted to me. Of course he means you harm. He is dark. It is what the dark do.”

  She didn’t appreciate being made fun of, even if only in a dream by a man she saw in passing. “I’d like to wake up now.”

  Nothing happened.

  “Why didn’t I wake up? I should have woken up, right?” she asked, surprised. The dreams never lasted this long before. The temperature around her increased.

  The man eased closer, his chest dripping with sweat as the heat in the area continued to rise. It became hard to draw in air without it stinging. It was even harder to keep her hands to herself. Mmm. Just one small touch. That would do, right?

  Her hands shook with the need to make contact with him. He came to a stop before her, his hand rising toward her hair. She flinched and he stopped just shy of touching her.

  “I’ll nae hurt you, Maggie.”

  She gasped. “You know my name?”

  He looked to be trying not to laugh. “It would appear so. ‘Tis yer dream. You tell me.”

  He had a point. She pursed her lips. “And you’re Kennard?”

  “Aye,” he returned, a gleam still in his eyes as if he was enjoying himself immensely at her expense. “Kennard O’Caha.”

  What a strange name to give such a sexy man. She wasn’t sure why her subconscious came up with it, but she’d go along with whatever at this point. His abs were very distracting with the sweat sheening on them. Men did not come built that way in real life.

  No way.

  No how.

  And seriously, why wasn’t he naked? Her brain should really know better than to send something that yummy to her in her dreams and dress it.

  This time when he reached for her hair, she didn’t jerk. His hand connected with her hair and it was as if electricity shot right through her. It didn’t hurt so much as it tingled. How could a simple touch cause such a reaction?

  “Come, lass, isnae safe here,” he said, dragging her closer to him with a simple tug of her hair, somehow breaking whatever hold the demon had on her, allowing her to move. He bent his head, his height even more imposing up close and personal. His gaze bored into her and she stared back into the green abyss, feeling as if she had a window to his soul. “Athol’s presence lingers and he isnae one you want to come into contact with. He’s tainted.”

  A nod was all she managed. It was too hard to concentrate with his lips so darn close. What had she been thinking about? Oh, waking up.

  Not a chance in hell, she thought to herself. I’m staying asleep if it means this could turn into a sex dream.

  It would never move to the next level if she didn’t take it. After all, it was her dream. Emboldened, Maggie reached up, yanked gently on one of his braids, and when he bent, she went to her tiptoes, her mouth going to his. Their lips connected and the kiss was everything it had been in the shop and more.

  Butterflies danced in her stomach as she kept going, kept allowing her inner wild child out to take what it wanted. And it had its sights set on the hunk she was locking lips with. She couldn’t seem to stop herself, her hands having minds of their own as they wandered over his tawny flesh. His hands slid up her sides and under her shirt, coming to a rest just beneath her breasts.

  Oh no. Romance hero guy wasn’t going to stop there. Not in her dream.

  She took hold of one of his hands as she continued the kiss and yanked his hand up and over her breast. He gasped into her mouth and she sucked hard on his tongue.

  Kennard jerked against her, his other hand moving to mimic the actions of his left. He kneaded her breasts with expert fingers, making her nipples harden instantly and her entire body strum with need. She went at the top of his kilt, wanting what he had beneath it. She’d never been so free with her sexuality, so bold with her actions in terms of sex.

  Unable to figure out how to undo the kilt, she went with the next best option, she drew it upwards and then slinked a hand under it, finding the prize.

  She nearly bit his tongue as her hand tried and failed to wrap around the width of his cock. He was long, longer than she could probably take easily, but she didn’t care. He was exactly what she’d hoped for. He jerked against her as she stroked his length. A low growl emanated from him as he pulled her hand free from his cock and his lips from her mouth.

  He closed his eyes tight and put his hands out to the side. “Do nae hurt her. Do nae hurt her.”

  He continued to chant the same thing over and over before she touched his chest, drawing his gaze to her. “Lass, I could harm you.”

  “I don’t mind a little pain with my pleasure,” she responded.

  Moaning, he tipped his head back. For a moment neither of them said a word. Then Kennard growled, his lip curling as he spun around from her, facing the other direction. Maggie saw it then. The snake-like man he’d called Athol was back and he was huge. Much larger than he’d ever been before. Larger than was humanly possible.

  He’s not human.

  Even with all the weird things she’d seen in her life, this took the cake. Athol was there, a long staff in one hand, a sinister look upon his face. He seemed almost pleased that Kennard had been distracted with Maggie. He charged Kennard and Maggie couldn’t help but scream.

  Kennard knocked her backwards out of harm’s way as Athol hit him full-on. The ground shook as they slammed into one another like two gods were fighting and thunder and lightning would be the end result.

  A dagger materialized in Athol’s hand and he drove it home. As it connected with Kennard’s side, a burst of energy sprang forth from Maggie. “No!”

  In that moment she snapped awake to find Maria at her side, worry etched on her friend’s face. Maria touched Maggie’s brow. “I couldn’t get you to wake up.”

  Maggie’s stomach churned. “I’m going to be sick,” she said, pushing off the sofa and running for the bathroom. Apparently, girl’s night had struck full-force.

  Chapter 6

  Kennard woke in the tiny bed and breakfast, covered in sweat, his muscles aching from the fight he’d surely fought. His hand was even outstretched, but why? The realization that he’d been reaching for someone or something in his sleep made him pause to reflect. What had he been dreaming about?

  “Not what,” he whispered. “Who.”

  He thought harder upon it, coming up blank. He knew deep down it was someone he wanted to help, not harm. Everything was fuzzy still, as if he’d drawn upon too much of his power in too short a time. He rolled to his side to sit up and hissed. His side burned as if he’d been wounded, but nothing was there marking as such.

  ‘Twas just a dream.

  He groaned, wiping a hand over his face. Several of his braids were plastered to his skin from sweat. He peeled them back and drew in large gulps of muggy air. Scowling, he glanced at the cracked window. The damn town sweltered even at night. Bike Week meant the big hotels had been filled, thus taking with them modern amenities Kennard found himself liking more and more—air conditioning for one.

  This B&B prided itself on giving an authentic lakeside experience. He was surprised they bothered with running water with as “rustic” as they appeared to be. He slid out of bed, unabashed in his naked form as he stood before the window, tossing it open wider. He was a Highlander from the past, a man to whom nudity meant little. Couple in that he was a shifter and it was a wonder he bothered with clothes at all. He often felt misplaced, as if he didn’t belong to the past any more than he did the present. Much had changed in the world around him over the centuries. He was truly a man out of time.

  “What woke you so?”

  He concentrated on his dream and why he now felt as if he’d single-handedly battled an army. His hand ran over his side, trying to ease an ache he had no idea how he’d gotten.

  No. Nae an army, he thought, the fuzzy feeling giving way to a moment of clarity. Athol.


  His dream state became clearer then. Maggie had been there. Athol had wanted her for some reason. Kennard remembered it then. Foreign power, separate from his or Athol’s, had consumed him as white-hot pain had raced through his side. But it hadn’t been the foreign power’s doing. That power had been on his side, trying to aid him. He knew that power. He’d sensed it before, in the cave where they’d all assumed they’d ended Athol. Though it was not assisting Athol this time. It had been doing something he couldn’t quite believe.

  Trying to heal me, he thought, understanding dawning upon him. Athol had run him through with a cursed dagger in a plane of existence that could have killed him, yet Kennard had been ejected from the realm and the dream state, unharmed because of her.

  Because of the lass. The lass he’d been about to fuck before Athol had come to kill him.

  “The lass is more than she seems for sure,” he mused, his hand touching his unscathed side. He knew full well he’d taken a cursed dagger to the spot. And it mattered not that it was simply within a dream. The dagger should have seriously injured him. Mayhap even have killed him should the dark magik it was cursed with be strong enough.

  As he knew Athol would have seen to.

  Kennard was too old to push away what had happened. He’d seen far too much come from the dark magik side to believe anything other than it had all been real. On another plane, but real all the same.

  He had no doubt Athol’s essence had truly been there. That he and Kennard had battled in another plane and that somehow Maggie had saved him from certain death. Another certainty rushed over him.

  She wasn’t human and she was in danger.

  Athol wanted her and clearly transcended death and realms to try to get to her. Kennard nearly roared at the idea of losing the tiny redhead he’d only just met, and even that was in another realm. Athol could not be permitted to take her.

  Kennard wouldn’t allow it. But he wasn’t sure he could do it alone. He’d seen Athol’s true form now, and it was worse than in the cavern where they’d last fought. The dark sorcerer had become the black-hearted beast he’d strived so hard to be in life.

  He’d become a monster.

  Grabbing his jeans, he hastily pulled them on. He rushed out of his room and to Liam’s room. He didn’t bother knocking, and when he opened the door to find Liam being ridden hard by one of the bimbos from the bar while another of the bimbos kissed the one riding him, Kennard instantly regretted barging in. With a groan he looked up at the ceiling.

  “Athol lives,” he said clearly so there could be no room for misinterpretation.

  Liam stopped what he was doing and practically tossed the woman on him to the side. He sat up quickly, naked, covered in obvious signs of sex. The girls tried to kiss him, but he shook his head, his concentration on Kennard. “Yer sure?”

  “His soul has not been trapped in the Otherworld. It’s free enough to pull me onto the same plane and nearly kill me,” Kennard returned.

  Liam touched the blonde woman’s arm. “Take yer friend and go.”

  “But we’re not finished,” she pouted.

  Liam stood, brazen in his naked state. “I’ve made you both come at least four times. And I’ve spilled my seed onto yer stomachs more than once. We’re done. Go.”

  With a huff the women gathered their clothing and stormed out of the room, still naked as they stomped down the hall.

  Kennard stared at his cousin. “I suspect they’re none too happy with you.”

  Liam shrugged. “They were a means to an end. I dinnae even catch their names.”

  No. Kennard didn’t think he would.

  “Cillian know of this development?” asked Liam.

  Kennard shook his head. “Yer room was closer.”

  Liam grabbed jeans and slid them on. He moved past Kennard and headed in the direction of his brother’s room. He had the sense to knock. After several long pounds on the door Cillian answered, looking as if he just woke. “What the hell time is it?”

  “Time to get yer sorry arse up,” Liam snapped. “Athol’s soul isnae trapped in the Otherworld.”

  Cillian’s sleepy appearance vanished. He seemed wide awake as he asked, “Are you sure?”

  Liam thumbed in Kennard’s direction. “This one just had it out with him on another plane.”

  Kennard bit his lower lip. “There is more.”

  The twins stared at him.

  He sighed. “The redhead from earlier was there, in the dream. And she’s the reason I stand before you now. She broke the connection to Athol right as he rammed a dagger of the dead into me.”

  The twins gasped.

  “Coffee shop lass took on Athol and won?” asked Liam, shock evident.

  Kennard looked to the floor. “I have to find her. He wants her. I’m nae sure how I was pulled into it all, but when I arrived in the dream realm he was after her.”

  Cillian eased closer to the wall. “To be able to call someone into another realm, onto another plane of existence, takes powerful magik. I dinnae sense that comin’ from the redhead earlier. Would be hard to hide that much from the likes of the three of us.” He rubbed his jaw and then froze. “One could do so with a fair amount of power and if they were one’s chosen.”

  “By Daga,” Liam said, partially under his breath. “You do nae think she is yer chosen one, yer mate, do you, Kennard?”

  Kennard snorted and was about to say no when something deep within stopped him from doing as much. Frantic, he stared wide-eyed at his cousins, seeking guidance where none was to be found. They were as lost with it all as he. Maybe more.

  Cillian gapped openly at him. “I’m callin’ seanmhair.”

  “Tattle tale,” snapped Kennard, as Cillian grabbed his phone and followed through on his threat—phoning their grandmother. He talked briefly and then handed the phone to Kennard who took it begrudgingly.

  “Ciamar a tha thu?” he asked, hoping to feign ignorance.

  “I’m fine,” she replied, not bothering with their native tongue. “Grandson of mine, have you somethin’ you want to tell me?”

  “No. I’m guid.”

  Coward.

  His cousins snickered. He narrowed his gaze on them and they shut up.

  “Och, lad, Cillian told me what I already know,” she stated evenly. “You’ve found yer mate. Yer chosen. Why are you talkin’ to me when you should be with her? Best you get to her soon before the dark mage does. He’s plans for that one, boy. Do nae let him have her. Go now.”

  She hung up.

  His stomach tightened. Grandma knew things she shouldn’t, and if she was calling Maggie his mate then it was so. And Athol wanted his woman.

  Chapter 7

  Maggie pulled her damp hair over one shoulder and continued to towel dry it as Maria paced the short length of the living room, still talking with one of her aunts on the phone. Maggie could understand none of it as their conversation was in Spanish, but every so often she caught her name, and from the over-dramatic hand gestures Maria was making, the conversation wasn’t going well.

  After expelling the contents of her stomach, Maggie had decided a shower and freshening up was in order. Her hot-water tank was on the fritz again and refused to yield any of the warm goodness, giving her frigid water instead. She’d made do.

  Maria had sat on the toilet on the other side of the shower curtain, drilling her on details of her dream and why this one had shaken her to the core—more so than the ones she’d been having all her life. When Maggie had confessed that the man from the coffee shop had been there and that he’d nearly died protecting her, Maria’s face had gone ashen and she’d leapt up and phoned her aunt, despite the hour, and had been on the phone ever since.

  Maggie curled up on the sofa and tucked her legs beneath her as fear from her dream continued to seep into her, making her feel chilled to the bone. The old, threadbare t-shirt she’d put on was one that lacked in style but made her feel comfortable and calm. She drew the throw blanket from the back of the sofa
around herself as her teeth began to chatter.

  Maria tossed her hands in the air. “You have got to be kidding me!”

  She’d moved back to English. That couldn’t be good.

  “Read the cards again,” she demanded, only to huff and then slump her shoulders. “Fine, but I don’t have to like it. Yes. I’ll tell her.”

  She hung up and turned to face Maggie. The minute she looked at her, her expression fell more. “Girl, you need some warm tea. Something. You look like hell.”

  Maggie continued to shake. “I watched him almost die.”

  When Maria didn’t instantly start in again on how Maggie barely knew the man from the coffee shop and that the dream probably meant nothing, worry settled in on Maggie, making her even colder.

  Hurrying to the kitchen area, Maria set about starting tea water and then grabbed a superhero mug from the cabinet. “Chai?”

  Maggie nodded, wrapping deeper into the blanket.

  Maria poured herself a mug as well and then brought Maggie hers. She paused, her attention going to the front door. Maria was always doing that. Always hearing things long before Maggie could. It probably had something to do with the shifter in her blood. Maria had a blend of both witches and cat shifters in her family line. She’d inherited from both sides.

  “I’d ask how he found you, but my aunt already told me,” spat Maria, and she stormed to the door and tossed it open, snarling as she did.

  Maggie nearly dropped her mug of hot tea when she saw who was there, hand raised as if to knock, no sunglasses on his face this time.