The Highlander Series 7-Book Bundle

by Karen Marie Moning

  He would never permit such a future to become reality. Chloe’s love had strengthened him and hope burned like a beacon in his heart. Though the darkness was ever growing in him, his resolve and determination had never been stronger.

  He glanced at her, drinking her in. For their return, they’d donned the clothing they’d worn in the twenty-first century, and she stood in her slim blue trews and creamy sweater, her tousled curls spilling down her back. Desire quickened in his veins. Anon he would be loving her, and every minute betwixt now and then was a minute too long.

  He’d warned her how opening the bridge would affect him.

  I won’t be … quite myself, Chloe. You remember how I was when we came through the first time?

  I know, she’d said firmly. I know what you’ll need.

  He’d gritted his teeth. I may be … rough, love.

  I’m tougher than you think. A pause, then those words he would never tire of hearing: I love you, Dageus. Nothing will change that.

  She was so wee, yet so strong and determined. She was, quite simply, everything he’d ever wanted.

  “Son,” Silvan’s voice shattered his thoughts, “I’d have a word with you before you go.”

  Dageus nodded and made his way toward Silvan, who led him toward the castle. He’d already said his good-byes to his da, Nell, and his brothers, and was impatient to go, lest someone weep again and tear at his heart.

  “When you return, son, you must tell Drustan about the chamber library.”

  Dageus blinked, perplexed. “But he’ll know. We opened it again, and you’ll be passing the knowledge to Ian

  and—”

  “I’ll be doing no such thing.” Silvan said calmly.

  “But why?”

  “I spent some time last eve pondering the possibilities. If the chamber library is made known to the Keltar, it may affect too many things over the next centuries. It must be forgotten. ’Tis too risky for us to restore such a wealth of knowledge to successive generations and think naught else might change. I plan to seal it this very eve and will no’ enter it again.”

  Dageus nodded, instantly seeing the wisdom of it. “Ever clever, you are, Da. I hadn’t thought of it, but you’re right. It could indeed cause inestimable changes.” ’Twas good, he realized then, that he and Chloe weren’t remaining in the past any longer. He could trust his father to tidy up any loose ends, if aught were to be found.

  Unable to endure a prolonged leave-taking, he turned back toward Chloe and the stones.

  “Son,” Silvan said, his voice low and urgent.

  Dageus kept his back to him. “Aye?” he said tightly.

  There was a long pause. “If I could be there with you, I would. A father should be with his son at such times.” He swallowed audibly. “Lad,” he said softly, “Give my love to Drustan and Gwen, but know you carry the bulk of it with you.” Another pause. “I ken a da shouldn’t have favorites, but—och, Dageus, my son, you were always mine.”

  When, a few moments later, Dageus returned to the center slab and began to etch the final symbols, he noticed Chloe staring at him strangely. Her eyes got misty again and her lower lip quivered a bit.

  He didn’t understand until she pulled his head down to hers and kissed the tear from his cheek.

  Then, as the white bridge opened, she flung herself into his arms, clasped her hands behind his neck and kissed him passionately. He pulled her legs around his waist and held her tightly. It became a battle of wills for him then: It was him against the devastating, shifting, dimensional storm. He felt as if—if he could only make it through the chaos of the white bridge without losing hold of her—he could make it through anything.

  He held onto her for all he was worth.

  “Oomph!” Chloe gasped as they hit the icy ground, still in each other’s arms. A fierce little smile curved her lips—they’d made it without letting go of each other! She didn’t know why it seemed so important to her, but it did, as if it somehow proved that nothing could ever tear them apart.

  A low growl, a rough rumble more animal than human, was the only sound Dageus made as he rolled her beneath him and slanted his mouth hard over hers. His body was rock-hard against the softness of hers, his hips grinding into the cradle of her thighs, and in a heartbeat she was breathless with lust. The man had only to look at her to make her feel weak with desire, but when the hot, thick hardness of him rode between her legs, she became mindless with need. Every single time, her mouth went dry, and she felt shaky from head to toe, anticipating all those delicious things he would do to her. All those ways of touching and tasting, all those very specific demands he made of her that she so loved filling.

  She yielded, greedily taking all of him, locking her arms around his strong neck, burying her fingers in his wet hair. They rolled and tumbled across the hail-covered ground as the rain poured down and the wind shrieked deafeningly, numb to all around them but the searing intensity of their passion.

  Mouth sealed tightly to hers, his kiss was both dominating and yet utterly seductive, demanding yet coaxing. When he slipped his hands beneath her wet sweater, popped the clasp of her bra and cupped her breasts, she panted against his lips. There, she thought dimly, oh, yes. He played with her nipples, rolling them between his fingers, tugging lightly, and she could feel her breasts swelling beneath his hands, growing excruciatingly sensitive.

  When he drew abruptly away, she cried out, reaching for him, trying to pull him back down on her, but he moved out of her grasp, leaning back on his heels at her feet. Her back arched as she stared up at him, his gaze black in the shimmering moonlight. “Please,” she gasped.

  He gave her a feral smile. “Please what?”

  She told him. In detail.

  His black eyes glittering, he laughed as she listed her many and varied requests, and she could see that her boldness was making him recklessly aroused. A month ago, Chloe would never have been able to say such things, but what the hell, she thought, he’d made her this way.

  His laughter was of short duration. As he listened, desire narrowed his eyes and lust drew his chiseled features taut. He peeled away her jeans and sweater, and stripped off her panties and bra, baring her to his hungry gaze. Then he picked her up and tossed her naked over his shoulder, his big palm possessively roaming over her bare behind. He stalked from the circle of stones, walking with her through the night, deep into the gardens. He stopped at a low stone bench where he deposited her on her feet, ripped open the fly of his jeans and shed them. In a matter of seconds he was gloriously naked.

  Then the big, fierce Highlander with wild black eyes who was clearly seething with impatience to be inside her, surprised her by dropping to his knees before her. He planted lazy, open-mouthed kisses on the thin, sensitive skin of her hips, and across her thighs. Gripping her bottom with both hands, he pulled her hips forward, his velvety tongue sliding deep, slipping over her taut bud and deeper still.

  Her legs buckled and she cried out his name. He didn’t let her go down, but caught her weight, and forced her to remain standing, his dark head between her thighs, his long hair like silk against her skin. Slowly, he turned her in his arms, scattering scorching kisses over every inch of her behind, licking and teasing, his fingers slipping to the wetness between her thighs. Desperate to have him inside her, the minute his grip loosened a bit, she dropped forward to the ground on her hands and knees, and looked invitingly back over her shoulder at him, wetting her lips.

  He made a strangled sound, his breath hissing between his teeth. “Och, lass,” he chided, “I tried to be gentle.”

  Then he was on her, covering her with his big, hard body, pushing into her.

  “Gentle later,” she panted. “Hard and fast now.”

  As ever, her sexy Highlander was only too willing to oblige.

  Much later, heads close together, hands entwined, they borrowed Maggie’s Jeep, and drove back to Drustan and Gwen’s castle. There they crept into the back entrance, quiet as mice so as not to wake
anyone, where they fell into bed and began the loving all over again.

  It was nearly noon by the time Dageus and Chloe ventured belowstairs, and when they did—much to Drustan’s irritation—they went straight to the kitchens, evidently famished. He could hear a passel of McFarleys banging about in there, putting together a late brunch.

  Drustan shook his head and resumed pacing in the library, scarcely able to contain his impatience. The elderly McFarley butled in, trying to find something he might bring “his lordship,” but the only thing his lordship wanted was his damned brother’s attention.

  He’d been up since dawn, and already a dozen times this morn he’d stalked toward the stairs, yet each time Gwen had met him at the bottom and firmly turned him back toward the library.

  He’d heard them slip in last eve (as if he’d be able to fall asleep on the night Dageus was to return!) and had begun to rise from bed to go to them then, but Gwen had placed her hand on his arm. Let them have tonight, love, she’d said. He’d growled, frustrated, eager to share his news and discover what they’d learned, but then she’d begun kissing him and his mind had stuttered the way it always did when she used that luscious mouth of hers on any part of him. Och, and the parts she’d used it on last eve!

  He glanced at her. She was curled on the window seat beneath one of the library’s bay windows. Rain pattered lightly against the glass. She’d been reading for the past hour, but now she was staring dreamily out the window. Her skin had the unique translucent radiance of a pregnant woman, her breasts were full and tight, her belly heavily rounded with his—their—children. Fierce elation and protectiveness flooded him, accompanied by that never-ending need to be holding her, touching her. As if sensing his gaze on her, she turned from the window and smiled at him. He dropped into an armchair near the fireplace and patted his thigh. “Bring your bonny self over here, wee English.”

  Her smiled deepened and her eyes sparkled. As she slipped from the window seat, she warned him, “I might squish you.”

  He snorted. “I doona think there’s any danger of that, lass.” At but a few inches over five feet, even heavily pregnant, his wife would ne’er be aught but a wee lass in his mind. He pulled her onto his lap and clasped his hands around her, holding her close.

  The day was overcast, rainy and chill, a perfect day for a cozy peat fire, and in time, lulled by the combination of the woman in his arms and the comforts of home, he relaxed. He was nearly dozing when Dageus and Chloe finally finished eating and joined them.

  Gwen rose from his lap and greetings and hugs were exchanged.

  “Silvan and Nell said to give you their love,” Chloe told them.

  Drustan grinned, noting that Chloe’s hair was still slightly damp from her shower. So was his brother’s. ’Twas no wonder they’d not come down. Keltar men had a decided penchant for making love in the shower or bath. Indoor plumbing was one of the many luxuries of the twenty-first century that he wasn’t sure how he’d lived without. A shower? Delicious. Sex in the shower? Och, life didn’t get any better.

  Gwen beamed. “Didn’t you just love Silvan and Nell? I was so envious that I couldn’t go along and see them again.”

  “Nell gave me a letter for you, Gwen,” Chloe said. “It’s upstairs. Do you want me to get it now?”

  Gwen shook her head. “Drustan might die of impatience if I let you leave the room. We have news—”

  “But first,” Drustan interjected firmly, “let’s hear yours.” He studied Dageus carefully. Though his eyes were the color of deeply burnished copper, the outer edges of his irises rimmed with black, there was a sense of peace about him that hadn’t been there before. Och, aye, Drustan thought, love could indeed work miracles. He had no idea how long they’d spent in the past, but it was long enough that they’d fallen head over heels in love. Long enough that they were united as one against the uncertain future.

  While Dageus filled them in on what they’d discovered, he listened patiently. When Dageus told him of the chamber library beneath the study in Maggie and Christopher’s castle, he had to grip the arms of his chair to prevent himself from leaping up and racing off to explore it. To touch and read the legendary Compact, to rediscover their lost history.

  Finally, it was his turn to tell the news.

  “These members of the Druid sect of the Draghar you spoke of,” Drustan began.

  “Aye?” Dageus encouraged when he paused.

  “We have one of them in our dungeon.”

  Dageus shot to his feet. “How did this come about? Have you questioned him? What did he tell you?” he demanded.

  “Easy, brother. He told me all. The base of their Order’s operation is in London, in a place called The Belthew Building, on the lower West Side. ’Twas he and his companion that were after Chloe in Manhattan. ’Twas his companion who leaped from your terrace. He followed you here, hoping to get another chance at Chloe. They were trying to provoke you to use magic and force the transformation.”

  “I’ll kill the son of a bitch!” Dageus snarled and began to move toward the door of the library.

  “Sit,” Chloe said, dashing after him and tugging firmly at his sleeve. “Let’s hear the rest of it. You can kill him later.”

  Bristling with unbridled fury, Dageus refused to move for a moment, then he snorted and followed her back to the sofa. You can kill him later, she’d said, almost absently. When he sank back down on the sofa beside her, she snuggled into his arms and patted him like one might soothe a rabid wolf. He shook his head, nonplussed. Sometimes, he mused, it might be nice if she were a wee bit intimidated by him.

  But not his mate: She feared nothing.

  “He admitted”—Drustan smiled with grim satisfaction—“under a bit of duress—”

  “Good,” Dageus snapped. “I hope ’twas excruciating.”

  “—that the building is constructed atop a labyrinth of catacombs, and in those crypts is where all their records are kept. So far as he knows, the building is commonly occupied by no more than three or four men, and at night, ’tis most oft but two, deep in the heart of it. The building has a security system, yet I believe ’tis naught to present a challenge to someone with your unique skills, brother,” he added dryly. “There are complex passkeys, and much to his dismay, he described to me precisely what we must do to pass them. To the best of his knowledge, they still believe you have no idea they exist, and that you do not know of the Prophecy.”

  “Perfect. It should be a simple matter to break in late at night and search their records and histories. Did you ask if he knew of a way to get rid of the thirteen?”

  Drustan frowned. “Aye. Of a certain, I did. ’Twas one of the first things I asked. He indicated there was a way, but he didn’t know what it was. He overheard the Master of their Order, a man called Simon Barton-Drew, express concern that you might discover it. I assure you, I probed him thoroughly, but the man has no idea what the method is.”

  “Then we need to find this Simon Barton-Drew, and I doona give a damn what harm we must do to him to discover what he knows.”

  Chloe and Gwen nodded their agreement.

  “So, when do we leave?” Gwen asked matter-of-factly.

  Dageus and Drustan both skewered her with a glare.

  “We doona,” Dageus said firmly.

  “Oh, yes, we do,” Chloe rebutted immediately.

  Dageus scowled. “There is no way we’re taking the two of you in there—”

  “Then just take us to London with you,” Gwen said, managing to sound both soothing yet obdurate. “We’ll stay in a hotel nearby, but we will not remain here while you two go traipsing off into danger. This is not negotiable.”

  Drustan shook his head. “Gwen, I willna have you takin’ risks with either yourself or our bairn, lass,” he said, his burr thickened by tension.

  “And you should trust that I wouldn’t either,” Gwen said levelly. “I’m not going to let anything happen to our babies. Chloe and I will stay in the hotel, Drustan. We’re not s
tupid. I know there’s not much a woman as pregnant as I am could do when it comes to stealthily breaking in and searching. But you can’t leave us here. If you tried to, we’d only follow you. Take us with you, settle us safely in the hotel. You can’t shut us out. We’re part of it too. It would drive us both crazy sitting here and waiting.”

  The debate went on for well over half an hour. But in the end, the women prevailed and the men reluctantly agreed to take them to London the following day.

  “He’s back, Father, as is the woman,” Hugh Barton-Drew informed Simon, as he spoke softly into his cell phone. “We saw them return late last night.”

  “Any idea where they were?” Simon asked.

  “None.”

  “And there’s still been no sighting of Trevor?”

  “No. But we can’t get in the castle. Even if it weren’t warded, I’m not certain it would be safe to try,” he said quietly. Hushed tones were unnecessary, as far from the castle as he and his brother were, watching through binoculars, but Dageus MacKeltar made him uneasy. This Keltar castle, unlike the other one atop the mountain, was in a vast vale, and the surrounding forest-covered hills provided excellent cover. Still, he felt exposed. His brother had complained of the same sensation.

  “Report in to me every two hours. I want to be kept apprised of every move they make,” Simon said.

  • 25 •

  It was late at night, long after everyone was asleep, that Dageus slipped stealthily from the castle.

  The day had seemed to drag on endlessly, while he’d struggled to conceal from those he loved what he was planning. To keep his gaze mild, his impatience in check. It had worn him down, comporting himself as if he were in complete agreement, betraying no telltale sign, however minute, to the brother who knew him too well, that he had no intention of going along with the plan they’d spent the rainy afternoon meticulously formulating.