Untamed Highlander ds-4

by Donna Grant

  And what’s wrong with that? Everyone has accepted her.

  That was true enough. It made it too damn easy to convince himself it was all right to want her. But the memory of finding his family dead prevented even that.

  Hayden bent an arm behind his head and stared at the ceiling of his chamber. Even in the darkness the powers from his god allowed him to see perfectly.

  He knew sleep wouldn’t come, not when he could still smell Isla in his chamber, still feel her breath on his cheek and her curves in his arms.

  It was enough to tempt a saint, and Hayden most assuredly wasn’t a saint.

  Dunmore guided his horse as close to the entrance of Deirdre’s mountain as he could amid the rocks. The creature was surefooted, but with the snow and ice, even Dunmore knew it was time to go it on foot.

  He slid off his mount’s back and dropped the reins. The horse wouldn’t go far, not in the snowstorm.

  Dunmore hated the creak in his bones as he climbed ever higher. It just proved he was getting old too fast. How much longer would Deirdre continue to turn to him for help before she realized he wasn’t as fit as he used to be? He didn’t imagine it would be much longer.

  But right now she needed him. He would see that he did as she requested. After that, there would be no stopping Deirdre. Maybe then she would grant him the ultimate gift of immortality and youth.

  Dunmore didn’t bother to try and shield his face with his hands. The snow was coming down too quickly and too thick. He ducked his head and trudged forward.

  It wasn’t long before he heard the telltale shrieks of the wyrran. The undersized, hairless creatures were efficient and deadly, even if he couldn’t stand to look at them with their mouthful of sharp teeth that lips couldn’t close over.

  Deirdre had created the creatures with her will and black magic, fashioning them to serve her and her alone. Three wyrran waited for him by the entrance into the mountain.

  He nodded to the wyrran and stepped into the mountain. Once he was through the stone door, it closed behind him. Dunmore walked down the steps and narrow corridor before he turned into a wider hallway. He followed it down until he came to what Deirdre likened to a great hall.

  The cavern was huge and shadowy. A massive chandelier with hundreds of candles hung from the ceiling, shedding minute light throughout. Below him, their faces tilted to him, were the wyrran that had survived the MacLeods’ attack on Cairn Toul.

  Dunmore leaned on the stone railing and took a deep breath. He would make sure he was essential to Deirdre so that she couldn’t toss him aside. “We have much work to do. Our mistress had called to us. The ones who dared to defy her, who dared to think they could defeat her will pay. With their lives.”

  The wyrran shrieked their fury and glee at his words.

  He held up a hand to quiet them. “But first, we must collect more Druids and find the Warriors who thought they could escape. We must move quickly and quietly over the land. Our first target is a Druid. Deirdre must have a sacrifice to have her body returned.”

  The wyrran began to howl and rock back and forth, eager to be on their way.

  “We’ll split into two groups. Half of you stay here and continue to ready the mountain for Deirdre. The other half come with me. We have Druid to hunt.”

  As Dunmore turned on his heel to leave, he felt something brush against him.

  “Very well done, Dunmore.”

  “Mistress.” He paused and waited for Deirdre to say more. He missed seeing her. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Her white hair that hung to the floor and white eyes were spectacular to behold. He’d take her for his own if she’d have him.

  “You have rallied my wyrran. Let us hope you return with a Druid as quickly.”

  Dunmore bowed his head. “I will see it done.”

  “You will be rewarded. I give you my word.”

  “Anything for you,” he whispered. But she was already gone. He felt her loss as keenly as his old bones felt the cold.

  He would prove himself to her if it was the last thing he did. He owed her at least that.

  Quinn never expected to find Lucan sitting in the great hall in the middle of the night. The fact his brother was staring off in thought told Quinn all he needed to know.

  “Couldn’t sleep?” he asked.

  Lucan raised startled sea green eyes. “Nay. Neither can Fallon. He went to find something to eat.”

  Quinn slid onto the bench at the table across from Lucan. “What’s kept you up?”

  “Isla.”

  “You think she’s lying?”

  Lucan shook his head, the twin braids at his temples swinging. “Not at all. I fear she’s telling us the truth, the entire ugly mess of it.”

  “Not that we wish otherwise,” Fallon said as he entered through the kitchen. He had a goblet in his hand that Quinn knew was filled with water since Fallon had given up his need for wine.

  “She’s verra powerful,” Quinn said. “Nothing that compares to Deirdre, but I could feel Isla’s magic. And it’s strong.”

  Lucan nodded. “I think we all felt it. The fact that she has battled the evil within her allows her to use that power for good.”

  “But how long will she have control?” Fallon asked. “Deirdre will gain back her power. It’s simply a matter of time, and when she does she will bring her full wrath upon us and use Isla as well.”

  Quinn blew out a breath. “If we can sever the link Deirdre has with Isla, we’ll be in a much better position.”

  “That’s a big if, little brother,” Lucan said. “We tempted Isla to stay on the chance that an artifact could break that link. I hope we weren’t wrong.”

  Fallon ran his finger on the edge of the goblet. “It was a chance we took. Isla knows that as well. We need her here. Her shielding could help out tremendously, and with the Warriors we have, if something happens, we can kill Isla if we have to.”

  Quinn hoped it didn’t come to that. “Isla is as much a victim as we are. If this artifact Galen and Logan seek cannot help her, maybe the Druids who guard it will be able to lead us to another.”

  “I don’t know,” Lucan said. “So much is stacked against us. Deirdre will be looking for the artifact as well. We aren’t even sure what this artifact does.”

  “And we wouldna even know of it if Isla hadn’t told us. We owe her this,” Quinn stated.

  Fallon looked at Quinn. “No one said we wouldn’t try to help Isla. We will do all we can. We have more Warriors now, and another Druid. If you count Isla, we have a lot of added magic. Everything hinges on gaining the upper hand on Deirdre before she regains all her powers.”

  “I wish we knew where the other artifacts were,” Lucan said. “We could send several Warriors after them.”

  Fallon leaned back in his chair and drank deeply. “I’m just happy there’s a chance we can keep one out of Deirdre’s hands. It’s not much, but it’s something.”

  “We need more,” Lucan murmured.

  Quinn puffed out his cheeks with air. Deirdre was always a step ahead of them. It didn’t bode well for the outcome of the world.

  “Did your women kick you out of your beds?” Hayden asked as he descended the stairs.

  Fallon chuckled. “Larena is probably even now searching for me.”

  Hayden rolled his eyes as he took a seat near Quinn and grimaced. “Enough. I doona need to hear of your prowess in bed.”

  Quinn saw a ghost of a smile on the big blond’s face, but it was fleeting. “Actually, we’re discussing Isla.”

  “What about her?” Hayden demanded, his gaze hard and steady.

  Was it Quinn’s imagination or had Hayden become defensive?

  “We’re talking about what could happen if none of the artifacts help Isla,” Lucan said.

  Fallon set his goblet on the table and ran a hand down his face. “The simple truth is we want to keep everyone safe. If it was just Warriors here, I doona think we’d be as concerned.”

  “But ther
e are Druids,” Quinn said. “Isla’s magic far succeeds even Sonya’s.”

  Hayden looked from one to the other of them. They wanted something from him, and he feared he knew exactly what it was. “You want a Warrior to stay with her at all times, someone who will know if she’s acting differently and put a stop to her before it’s too late.”

  “Something like that, aye,” Fallon said. He leaned forward and put his elbows on the table. “We don’t want Isla to feel as if she’s a prisoner.”

  “Having a Warrior follow her everywhere will make it seem that way. Why not have someone watch her discreetly?”

  Lucan raised a dark brow. “Are you volunteering?”

  Hayden threw up his hands. He knew he should never have sat down with the brothers. “Nay. Leave me out of it. Everyone already believes I’ll kill her.”

  “And you won’t?” Quinn asked.

  Hayden wasn’t fooled by the quiet tone of the youngest MacLeod. Quinn was sometimes too intelligent for his own good. “You asked me to trust in your decision. I’m doing just that.”

  “I think you’d be the best person,” Lucan said. “I’m serious, Hayden. You aren’t biased by her story or feel sorry for her. You feel nothing.”

  Oh, Hayden felt something all right, but it wasn’t something he wanted to experience. Or let the brothers know about. “I’d rather you ask someone else.”

  “We’d talk to Broc, but he’s on a mission.” Fallon shrugged. “If you really doona want to do this, we will find someone else.”

  Hayden clenched his jaw. He didn’t want anyone spying on Isla, not when he did it himself anyway. “Fine,” he grumbled. “I’ll do it. You trust me enough not to kill her?”

  “Aye,” Quinn said. “I saw how protective of her you were when you carried her into this hall. That wouldn’t have changed had you never discovered she was a drough.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not,” Hayden quipped. “We’ll never know, now will we?”

  The smile on Quinn’s lips was slow and knowing. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

  Hayden held Quinn’s gaze. Was his desire for Isla so obvious that Quinn had seen it? Surely not.

  Quinn slapped his hands on the table and stood. “I think it’s time I returned to my bed and my wife.”

  Fallon nodded and followed Quinn from the hall, leaving Lucan alone with Hayden.

  “I would have thought spying on Isla would be what you wanted,” Lucan said.

  Hayden rubbed his tired eyes with his thumb and forefinger. Did everyone see his attraction for Isla? “I’d rather be out hunting and killing Deirdre’s Warriors.”

  “We all would. Quinn said you were fine, but I wonder if having a drough here is too much for you. Not that I would blame you.”

  “It’s not like she’s the drough who killed my family,” Hayden said. “She’s helping us against Deirdre. For now, that’s good enough. If she turns on any of us, I’ll be the first to strike her down.”

  Lucan twisted his lips in a grimace. “I hope it doesn’t come to that. The women have taken a liking to Isla.”

  “For everyone’s sake, I hope it all works out as we hope. But what are the odds?”

  “Not very good, I’m afraid.”

  Hayden nodded, hating to hear his own thoughts said aloud. “Unfortunately, I agree.”

  “Why didn’t you go with Galen, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “Logan needed to go,” Hayden answered. “Though I would have liked to track down those Druids and the artifact myself.”

  “Is something wrong with Logan?”

  “Something is wrong with all of us. You know that better than anyone.”

  Lucan snorted. “Aye, I do. Is there anything we can do for him?”

  “You did. You let him go with Galen.”

  Lucan rubbed his chin and shifted in his seat, a question in his sea-green eyes.

  “Just spit it out,” Hayden said with a sigh.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You want to ask me something. Just ask it. If I don’t want to answer it, I willna.”

  Lucan laughed and shook his head. “I always did like your forthrightness.”

  “Some would call it rudeness.”

  “Maybe.” Lucan chuckled again. “That would be Ramsey that called you rude. Correct?”

  Hayden grinned. “Correct. Now ask your question.”

  The smile vanished, replaced by a grim face. “You mentioned a drough killed your family.”

  Hayden glanced at his hands. If he wanted to call MacLeod Castle home, and he truly trusted the brothers, there was no use in keeping what happened to his family from them. He didn’t like speaking about his past, but he considered these men close enough that he could share his past with them. “So I did.”

  “I didna know, Hayden. You don’t need to say more.”

  But Hayden thought he should. After all, the MacLeods had given him a new home. “I think I do. You wish to know what happened?”

  “If you’re willing to tell it,” Lucan said.

  “I had been wounded after a battle with a rival clan. The wound wouldn’t kill me, but I was in bad shape and needed to rest. I knew it was only a matter of time before my clan found me, so I settled in a grove of trees and bound my wounds.”

  He paused and took a breath, unable to look at anything but his hands in front of him. “I awoke to feel pain unlike anything I’d ever known before. There was a woman before me, a woman with unnatural white hair and eyes that speared my heart with fear.”

  “Deirdre,” Lucan said.

  Hayden nodded. “Once the pain had ended and I didn’t feel as if my bones were going to pop out of my skin, I heard her laughing. I knew I had to get away, so I jumped up and ran. I never looked back, never stopped. Something told me I had to get to my family. When I did, I found them…” He cleared his throat twice before he could get out the words. “They were dead. My mother, my father, and my brother. All dead, all viciously killed.”

  “What happened next?” Lucan asked.

  “I barely had time to register what had happened before wyrran and other Warriors surrounded me. I was knocked unconscious, and when I awoke I was in Cairn Toul with Deirdre standing over me. She was angry that I had dared to run and wanted to punish me. She used her hair to flay the skin from my back, all the while taunting me with how she had sent a drough to kill my family. I had lost everything, so I latched onto the only thing I could. Hatred and vengeance.”

  “It explains your loathing of droughs. We all wondered, and I knew it had to be something terrible for you to hate Cara so. I am sorry, Hayden.”

  “I doona hate Cara, I hate that she has drough blood in her veins and around her neck. We all had terrible things happen to us.” Hayden shrugged, uncomfortable talking about something that still haunted him. “Your clan was murdered. So was my family.”

  “Thank you for telling me.” Lucan rose to his feet and walked around the table to clasp Hayden on the shoulder. “We may not be of the same blood, but we are brothers. Every Warrior here is my brethren. Doona carry your burdens alone. They will eventually bury you.”

  Hayden waited until Lucan was at the top of the stairs before he whispered, “It’s too late, Lucan. They already have buried me.”

  FOURTEEN

  Isla left the tower hours before dawn. She had rested as much as she could, but she refused to allow herself to fall into a deep sleep where the nightmares awaited her.

  While she had sat in her new chamber, she had let her mind wander over memories of the bakery and her father’s favorite recipes.

  It wasn’t long before she decided to see what the kitchens at MacLeod Castle offered. There was nothing else for her to do, and she needed something to occupy her time before she went daft thinking of the near kiss Hayden had given her.

  To Isla’s surprise, she found all she needed to make her father’s delicious custard pastry. Isla was glad she was alone as she tried to find her way in the kitchen again. It had been ages since she h
ad cooked or even been in a kitchen. It took her longer than she’d have liked to get her bearings, but once she did, everything came back to her in a rush as if she hadn’t spent five centuries away.

  She was so immersed in her cooking she didn’t see the sun rise or notice when others joined her.

  “It smells wonderful,” Marcail said as she moved to the opposite side of the large work table. “What are you baking?”

  Isla glanced up and smiled. She ducked her head and rubbed her nose on her shoulder since her hands were covered in flour. “Custard pastries. They were my mother’s favorite.”

  “I cannot wait to try one.”

  Cara walked into the kitchen and inhaled. “The entire castle smells delicious. Who is responsible, and what are we going to eat?”

  “It’s Isla,” Marcail said. “She’s baking custard pastries.”

  Cara closed her eyes and groaned before licking her lips. “It’s been years since I’ve had a custard pastry. How long until they’re ready?”

  Isla looked from one to the other, apprehension weighing like a stone in her stomach. What if the pastry didn’t taste good? She couldn’t bear to be embarrassed. “Soon,” she answered.

  “What are you making now?” Marcail asked and leaned close to take a look.

  “Pudding.”

  Cara licked her lips. “I’m starving already. How long have you been down here?”

  Isla shrugged and continued to stir the pudding in the bowl. “I don’t know. A while, I suppose.”

  “Well before dawn,” said a deep, masculine voice. A voice that sent tingles of awareness through Isla to settle between her legs. A voice she was beginning to recognize all too clearly.

  She raised her gaze to find Hayden standing in the doorway with Larena and Fallon. His black eyes watched her closely. Searching. Seeking. All Isla could think about was the feel of his hard body next to hers and how he had nearly kissed her.

  “I couldn’t sleep. I decided to make myself useful.” Isla continued to mix the pudding and did her best to look away from Hayden.