Midnight's Master

by Donna Grant

  “It’s the truth,” Logan vowed. “I was looking for Ian when I was drawn once more to Eigg. For me, Duncan died just a few days ago. I thought his death was what urged me to the isle, but then I met you. I’m no’ sure if it was Duncan, my mission, or you who called me here.”

  “If everything you’ve said is true, then you need to find Ian.”

  “My vow is to protect Druids. That means you. Once I know you’re safe from Deirdre, then I will look for Ian.”

  “And the artifact?”

  He smiled. “Are you saying you believe me?”

  “I’m indulging you,” she said with a haughty lift of her chin.

  Logan’s smile grew. For now, that was enough.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Deirdre hadn’t thought she could loathe anyone more than the MacLeods, but apparently she’d been wrong. Hatred burned brightly inside her for Declan Wallace—the man who thought he could rule her.

  But no man ruled Deirdre.

  “I thought the new clothes would at least grant me a measure of a smile,” Declan said as he leaned against the doorway of her chamber.

  Deirdre glanced down at the new clothes she now wore. The leather pants fit tightly against her legs and bottom. The top was of the same black leather and molded to her breasts and torso.

  It felt odd not wearing a gown, but she enjoyed the freedom the pants gave her. Not to mention how they made her body look.

  The black high-heeled boots had taken a bit of getting used to, but Deirdre found she quite liked the height they gave her.

  Regardless, her pleasure over the clothes couldn’t dispel her anger. Or the vengeance she plotted.

  “What do you want, Declan?”

  His grin grew bolder as he pushed away from the door and walked toward her. He looked as if he had been blessed by the sun with his golden hair and skin. Those golden locks fell about his face in what looked like disarray, but Deirdre had seen him preening before the mirror, getting every strand perfect.

  She glanced at his clothes and struggled to remember what he had called them. Ah, yes. A suit. The material was black and had been tailored just for him. The crisp white shirt brought out his bronzed skin.

  Declan, with his strong jaw, full lips, and intense blue eyes, was more than handsome. But Deirdre wasn’t impressed with his looks or his magic.

  “What I want,” Declan said with a sly grin, “is you, Deirdre.”

  “And what makes you think you can have me?”

  “Because I have the means to give you everything you’ve ever wanted.”

  She raised a brow. “I was well on my way to getting what I wanted without you.”

  Declan chuckled and moved with slow, measured steps toward her. “You failed. How do you think I was able to bring you to my time? Had you succeeded, you would have ruled everything. Yet, look around my world, Deirdre. No one even knows your name.”

  She fisted her hand, wishing with all her might she could send a blast of magic through him.

  “Druids are all but vanished,” Declan continued, unaware of her fury. “The MacLeods bested you. They ended whatever reign you thought you had. I intervened before the MacLeods could win.”

  Deirdre inhaled deeply and crossed her arms over her chest. “So you say. How do I know you don’t lie? How do I know you didn’t yank me to your time so you could share in my glory?”

  Declan stopped in front of her. “Every mention of you speaks of your unusual white hair and eyes. And of your beauty. They doona lie.”

  “Compliments? Why?”

  “Because I want you. No’ just by my side to rule this pathetic world, but in my bed. Let my seed fill you. Let us bring forth the child of the prophecy.”

  “The child I was to have had with Quinn MacLeod?”

  “The very one.”

  Deirdre considered Declan. It would be easy enough to take him to her bed. She’d glimpsed his body beneath his fine clothes and seen the hard definition of his muscles. Declan was nearly as vain as she was.

  “Where are my Warriors?”

  His knowing gaze told her he realized that she was changing the subject. “They are … learning to adjust.”

  “I need to see them.”

  “No’ just yet,” Declan hedged.

  Deirdre let her hands drop to her sides. “And my wyrran?”

  “They are also adjusting, though more loudly than the Warriors. It appears you inspire loyalty.”

  Deirdre ignored the rich furnishings around her. For all the lavish furniture and luxurious material, there were no windows in her room.

  “Where are we, Declan?”

  “In Scotland, as I told you before. You’re in my home.”

  “So you say. Let me see outside.”

  He shrugged. “Soon.”

  “Do you intend to keep me prisoner?”

  Declan ran a finger down her leather-encased arm. “I’ve no intention of letting you go, Deirdre. You were meant to be mine, and I intend to have you.”

  Unease rippled through her at his words. She didn’t know how much magic he had, but he had put spells in place that prevented her from using her own magic.

  For the moment.

  She didn’t intend to stay in his home for long. Her mountain was calling to her.

  “Make yourself comfortable,” Declan said as he turned and headed for the door. “There are many interesting shows on the telly. I’m sure you recall how I showed you to work it.”

  Deirdre stared at him as he paused at the door and looked at her over his shoulder. With one last smile, he was gone. The door closed and locked behind him.

  She whirled around, anger rippling through her. Her magic swam inside her, eager to be used.

  And she would use it.

  For three months she had been locked in Declan’s home. The first month she had been so crazed with fury that he’d restrained her. She had never felt so … helpless.

  And it only bred her anger, until it consumed her.

  The second month, after she had made herself calm, he had brought her to this chamber, that she had come to hate. There was nothing to do, nothing to see. It was made worse because she couldn’t use the magic inside her.

  Nor could she answer her mountain’s call.

  Deirdre walked to the dark blue chair in the corner of the room. She sat and closed her eyes. She might not be able to use her magic, but nothing could keep her from her wyrran and Warriors.

  A smile pulled at her lips as she heard the wyrran in her mind.

  “Soon, my darlings,” she whispered. “Tell me what you see.”

  * * *

  Gwynn showed her father’s picture to everyone she encountered on Eigg, and still she learned nothing.

  “It’s as if he just vanished,” she said. Whatever hope she’d felt the day before was gone.

  Despair had set in, and she wasn’t sure she could push it away.

  “We’ll find him.”

  Logan’s deep voice sounded next to her. She’d been so lost in her thoughts she’d forgotten he was there.

  He wasn’t like any man she knew. He didn’t talk about himself or whatever he thought he happened to be good at. He was simply there for her. He listened as she spoke, and offered his opinion if she needed it.

  Where had he been all her life?

  In the seventeenth century.

  Gwynn inwardly winced. How could she believe he had time traveled to her time?

  But how could she ignore it when she felt the magic within her?

  Magic!

  It wasn’t supposed to exist. Oh, sure, there were telekinetics, who could supposedly move objects with their minds, and psychics, who could see into the future.

  But magic?

  If she accepted the magic within her, and that she was descended from Druids, then she had to accept everything Logan had told her as truth.

  “Did it hurt?” she asked him as she came to a stop. “When you were pulled to my time? Did it hurt?”

  Logan shrugg
ed casually as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Nay. It was the absence of any light or sound that bothered me the most. Why? Do you wish to travel through time?”

  “Not at all,” Gwynn said hastily. “I like my life in Texas.”

  “Tex-ez,” he repeated slowly.

  Gwynn chuckled. “Yes. Texas.”

  “And this place is where?” he asked as he touched her arm to guide her away from an approaching group of people.

  As his hand dropped, his fingers skimmed hers. Heat seared her skin where Logan’s fingers touched her. That simple contact caused her heart to race and her body to sway toward him.

  Awareness of his masculinity, of his strength, and the power that radiated from him engulfed her.

  She wanted to move closer to him, to feel his warmth. And his hands on her.

  “Gwynn?”

  She blinked and tried to bring her body under control. What was wrong with her? Never in her life had she reacted to a man as she did to Logan.

  “Your face is flushed,” Logan said as he put his hand on her lower back and maneuvered her to a bench.

  Gwynn had the insane urge to lay her head on his shoulder. The feel of his hand, even through her clothes, only helped to build the need growing inside her. A need that both scared and intrigued her.

  “Sit,” Logan said as he gently pushed her down. “You need to eat.”

  Gwynn swallowed and reached into her purse for a PowerBar. They weren’t the tastiest things, but they were quick and easy food.

  “I’m fine. Really,” she said as she unwrapped the bar.

  His hooded gaze slid to her. “Is that why I felt an increase in your magic?”

  The bite she’d been attempting to swallow got caught in her throat. Thankfully, she had a bottle of water in her purse that she quickly reached for. After several swallows, she recapped the bottle.

  “My magic grew?”

  He answered with a brisk nod.

  “And you can feel that?”

  He sighed dramatically. “Lass, I’ve already told you I can feel the magic of Druids. What caused you to pull your magic around you?”

  Is that what she’d been doing? No, she was pretty sure she’d been in the middle of thinking about Logan touching her, kissing her. Would that have caused her magic to flare?

  “I don’t know,” she finally answered, and bit into her bar.

  The look Logan sent her told her he didn’t believe a word she said. “If you doona trust me, Gwynn, I can leave. I’ll still watch over you to make sure no one harms you, but I’ll stay out of sight.”

  It was a way out for her, a way to get Logan and his all-too-tempting body away from her. But she was tired of searching for her father alone. Maybe Logan could protect her, and maybe he couldn’t. Just having him with her, however, had helped to ease her tension.

  “Trust is a delicate thing. I’m not sure I do trust you yet, but I’d rather have you with me.”

  He smiled, and her stomach felt as if a thousand butterflies had just taken flight.

  “I’m glad to hear it. You can trust me, and I’ll prove it.”

  Gwynn finished her PowerBar and water in quick order. She tossed her trash in the can and was turning to Logan when something slammed into her, through her.

  Her knees gave out and she pitched forward. Strong arms caught her and held her against his chest.

  She clutched at Logan’s saffron shirt and kilt as she tried to make her legs work again. Gwynn closed her eyes as one of Logan’s hands came up to cup her head.

  He lowered her back to the bench, but he didn’t release her. “Can you move?” he whispered.

  “My arms and legs don’t feel like my own.”

  Logan tucked Gwynn against his side and scanned the people around them. “It was magic that struck you.”

  “I know.”

  Gwynn’s voice was soft and muffled against his chest. He quite liked having her against him. She held him, as if he was the only thing keeping her there.

  His balls tightened when she moved closer to him. He could feel her shivering. Whether from the cold or the magic, he didn’t know.

  He’d like nothing more than to hold Gwynn in his arms, but he needed to protect her. That meant finding the Druid who had attacked her. Yet no matter how hard he looked, he couldn’t find anyone.

  “I can no’ sense another Druid.”

  Gwynn shifted and raised her head, but Logan kept his arm around her. “I don’t think it was meant to harm me,” she said.

  “Really?” he asked as he looked down at her. “You nearly fell on your face.”

  “I know,” she said, their gazes locked.

  Logan told himself not to look at her tempting lips, not to think of kissing her, but he couldn’t help himself. Not when it came to Gwynn.

  She made him … feel. Really feel.

  Her tongue peeked out to wet her lips, and Logan bit back a groan. She had no idea how enticing she was. Or how close to losing control he was.

  Before he knew it, his head was lowering to hers. All he wanted was a taste, a brief kiss, so he would know her essence and calm the need that was driving him to take her.

  She briefly lowered her lashes and pulled away from him a fraction. She rubbed the center of her chest. “Ever since it happened, I feel … something. I can’t explain what it is, other than to tell you it’s magical.”

  Logan forgot about his desire and was instantly on alert. There were no other Druids on the isle, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t residual magic in its soul.

  Could the Tablet of Orn still be on the isle? If so, why had it sent magic to Gwynn?

  CHAPTER NINE

  Gwynn turned her head to the right. “We need to go this way.”

  “Why?” Logan asked.

  “I don’t know. I just need to.”

  They stood together. Gwynn hated when Logan’s arm fell from around her. His comfort, his strength had been the only things to keep her from falling under the tidal wave of magic that had gone through her.

  And the all-too-powerful, needy ache that even now pounded through her.

  “That was a great amount of magic directed at you,” Logan murmured as they walked along the shore.

  “It didn’t hurt me.”

  “Dinna look that way to me.”

  Gwynn grinned at his surly tone. His protectiveness proved that he would take care of her if she got in trouble. “I think it was trying to tell me something.”

  “We’ll soon see.”

  They hadn’t gone far when an old woman with white hair pulled away from her face in a loose bun stepped in front of them. She was bent over and used a cane, but her dark eyes were so piercing, they stabbed Gwynn.

  “I know what ye are,” the woman said and pointed at Gwynn. “Ye’ve that look about ye.”

  “What look?” Logan demanded as he moved to put himself between Gwynn and the woman.

  But Gwynn wasn’t afraid of her. She stepped to the side of Logan. “Yes. What look?”

  “A Druid,” the woman said and frowned. “’Tis been many a year since any magic has touched this isle.”

  Gwynn clutched Logan’s arm. “You know of magic?”

  The woman snorted and leaned both hands on her cane. “Any Druid would. Most have forgotten what they are, or they refuse to see it. The old ways are gone. The once mighty magic of the Druids of Eigg is fading.”

  “There are tales told of an artifact here. The Tablet of Orn.”

  The woman’s dark eyes swung to Logan. She looked him up and down. “I know what you are, too.”

  He bowed his head toward her. “I protect Druids, old woman.”

  She considered him a moment before she asked, “What do you want with the Tablet?”

  “Is it here?” Logan asked again.

  Gwynn could tell the woman wasn’t going to answer him. “Please,” Gwynn said. “is it here?”

  “What do ye think sent that magic to ye? Me? There is no more magic running through my blo
odline. I may not have any magic, but I can sense it.”

  “You have magic,” Logan said. “It’s no’ much, but it’s still there.”

  The old woman’s lined face brightened. “Ah, ye’ve made my day, lad. I’m one of the last Druids on Eigg. When I’m gone, there will be no one else to tell of the days of old.”

  Gwynn ached for the woman. She didn’t know much about the Druids, but she remembered the way Grams had spoken of them with such reverence and awe, as if there was nothing better to wish for than to be a Druid.

  “A Druid is born, not made,” the woman said. “Ye returned to us.”

  “No. I came looking for my father. He was here three weeks ago, and then disappeared,” she said and pulled out the photo.

  The woman shook her head. “I keep to myself unless I sense other Druids.” Then she took a step closer to Gwynn. “Yer eyes, lass.”

  Gwynn looked at Logan before she turned back to the woman. “What about them?”

  “Violet eyes are unusual.”

  Gwynn shrugged. “I guess.”

  “There was a Druid on Eigg long ago who had violet eyes. With her magic she could look through the eyes of animals. She was also the Keeper.”

  “Keeper?” Logan repeated.

  “Of the Tablet of Orn.”

  Gwynn rubbed her chest as she felt the urgency increase to find the place that was calling to her. “What does the Keeper do?”

  “She keeps the Tablet safe. She’s the only one who knows its location, the only one who can take it from its hiding spot.”

  Gwynn cleared her throat. “That wouldn’t be me. I’ve never heard of the Tablet before today.”

  “The Tablet always has a Keeper,” the old woman says. “You have the blood of the ancients of Eigg. The Tablet recognized that and sent its magic to call to you. It has chosen you to be its Keeper.”

  “Ah,” Gwynn said and took a step back, but Logan’s arm came up to wrap around her waist. “I need to find my father.”

  The old woman shrugged and began to hobble away. “Ye cannot ignore the Tablet’s call, lass.”

  Gwynn blinked and dragged in a shaky breath. “No one seems to care about my missing father. It’s all about magic and Druids.”

  Logan turned her and held her by her upper arms. “I told you we’d find your father. And we will.”