Midnight’s Lover

by Donna Grant

  “And the ones who belong here?”

  “They will feel the magic of the shield,” Ian said as he looked at her. “Do you feel it?”

  “I feel … something. It’s hard to put into words.”

  Ian took her hand and walked her through the trees that had once been a thick forest. When they reached the other side of the trees he paused.

  Danielle’s eyes were closed and a bright smile lit up her face.

  “I feel it,” she whispered. “It’s wonderful. Like a pulse deep in my soul, calling to my magic, waiting for me to answer.”

  “Step through,” Ian urged.

  Danielle didn’t need to be encouraged twice. She opened her eyes and held up her hand until she reached the shield. For several moments she simply stood against the magic.

  And then she stepped through.

  Ian watched her disappear into the shield. His smile dropped as he thought of facing the others. It had seemed like only weeks since the last time he had sat at their table, but for them it had been centuries.

  They would have changed when he hadn’t.

  Yet to see the castle that had become his home was a yearning that had begun on the ride to the castle. The more he thought about seeing his fellow Warriors, the more the ache grew, until he knew he had made the right decision in taking Danielle to them.

  Ian took a deep breath and walked into the shield. There was a jolt of magic as the shield engulfed him. The magic swarmed him, making his head buzz. And then he stepped through.

  Before him stood the village Deirdre had destroyed numerous times. And farther away, perched on the edge of the cliff, was MacLeod Castle.

  Danielle hadn’t moved since walking through the shield. She looked around her as if she were in a daze.

  “This is unbelievable. Isla’s shield hides all of this?”

  Ian smiled at the amazement in her voice. “Aye.”

  “The cottages look as if they came right out of the medieval time. And my God, the castle.”

  Ian let his eyes drink in the sight of the gray stones. The sun had broken through the thick clouds and shone upon the castle as if it had been waiting for Ian to appear.

  “I’ve seen castles before.” Danielle continued talking, unaware of his turmoil. “But this is … I cannot find the words.”

  Ian had felt much the same when he’d seen the castle for the first time. “It’s the magic within the land and the castle that makes it so different.”

  “The magic is potent. Nowhere else have I ever felt so connected to magic before.”

  Ian put his hand on her back. “Shall we go to the castle?”

  “I don’t know. I think I need a week or so just to stare at the thing.”

  Ian laughed at her frank honesty. “You’ve nothing to be afraid of.”

  “Neither do you.” Danielle said as she looked into his eyes.

  Her emerald depths were clear and bright as she gazed at him. Her silvery hair had begun to come loose from the band she’d wrapped around it at the back of her head.

  Ian touched a strand that lifted in the soft sea breeze. “You think I’m afraid?”

  “I think you want to be here, but you worry. Because Duncan isn’t here.”

  Ian dropped his hand and sighed. “It willna be the same without my brother.”

  “It’s never the same when you lose family.”

  Ian heard the sorrow in her words. She too had lost family and everything she had known when she’d been uprooted from Florida to live in Scotland.

  “We’re a pair, aren’t we?” Danielle asked with a grin.

  He took her hand and started forward when something flew over them. Danielle stifled a scream and latched onto his arm.

  “It’s all right,” Ian said as he spotted Broc flying back toward them. “It’s Broc.”

  “He has wings,” Danielle hissed.

  This time when Ian laughed he felt it through his entire body. And he thought it might have cracked the casing around his heart.

  CHAPTER

  NINETEEN

  Danielle was so taken aback by Ian’s laugh that she momentarily forgot the huge Warrior with wings.

  But only briefly.

  “You should laugh more,” she said when she was able to find her voice.

  Ian’s body tensed for a moment. “I’d forgotten how.”

  She wanted to kiss him, to soothe the torment she saw in his eyes. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and take all his grief, all his pain, into herself.

  And she would have if they’d been alone.

  Without taking his eyes from Danielle, Ian said, “Hello, Broc.”

  Danielle squeezed his fingers to let her know she was all right. Only when Ian’s head swung to face Broc did she look at the Warrior.

  Broc’s Warrior skin was the most stunning shade of indigo. And his wings. Danielle had never seen anything so huge before. They towered over Broc’s blond head as he folded them behind his back.

  Danielle blinked, and when she did, Broc’s god had faded. He stood before them bare-chested, a smile on his face.

  “It’s good to see you, Ian,” Broc said.

  Ian’s lips were tight, his jaw clenched. “Is it?”

  Danielle winced when she saw Broc’s smile falter.

  “What does that mean?” Broc demanded. “We’ve been waiting four centuries for you to return to us.”

  Ian didn’t answer. Instead he turned to Danielle. “Danielle, this is Broc. Broc, Danielle.”

  Danielle gave a hesitant smile to Broc. “Hi.”

  “It’s good to have another Druid here,” Broc said with a bow of his head. “The others are waiting impatiently for you both.”

  She was glad when Ian threaded his fingers in hers. She was nervous to finally meet the MacLeods and everyone else in the castle. Danielle had meant to ask Ian about everyone, but there hadn’t been enough time.

  A quick look at Ian showed the man she had glimpsed just a moment ago with his brilliant smile that lit up his face was gone. Beside her was a man with a heart as heavy as lead and demons too plentiful to rid himself of them.

  Broc walked on the other side of her seemingly unaffected by the cold. His dark brown eyes met hers fleetingly before he looked at Ian.

  She wanted to tell Broc … what? That Ian had been getting better? Danielle had thought that Ian returning to the castle would help him. Now that she saw his reaction, she wasn’t so sure.

  Her mind was briefly taken away from Ian as they walked through the village. She saw ruins that were overgrown with grass and weathered with time.

  “It was an abbey where orphaned children were raised,” Broc said when he saw her looking.

  “What happened to it?”

  “Deirdre.” That one word from Ian, laced with such hatred, made Danielle’s eyes sting with tears.

  Broc gave a brisk nod. “She killed all within as she searched for Cara. Deirdre had no idea Lucan had already met Cara and was protecting her at the castle.”

  Danielle looked at the castle again. It wasn’t just any castle. It was a castle that offered protection and a future for those who lived inside. It was a castle that had given the MacLeods hope.

  Would it also give Ian hope?

  The closer they walked to the castle the more enthralled she was. It was huge. She counted six towers, round and rising to the clouds like ancient stone arms.

  “It’s beautiful,” Danielle murmured.

  “Aye,” Ian and Broc said in unison.

  They weren’t far from the castle gates when two men came into view. Once again Danielle felt Ian tense, and then he halted altogether.

  Danielle moved closer to Ian to give him as much support as she could. She didn’t know what was going on, but she knew Ian wasn’t comfortable here.

  “Ian? Holy Hell, it is you,” said a man with light brown hair and the palest green eyes. He wore dark jeans and a thin long-sleeved pullover that showed off his wide shoulders and muscled arms. The gleam of gold c
aught her eye as she saw the Celtic torc around his neck.

  The second man smiled widely, obviously excited to see Ian. “I can no’ believe you’re finally back.”

  The men hadn’t noticed her yet, so she took her time looking over the second man with his brown hair so dark it was almost black and his honey-colored eyes. He wore cargos and a deep red tee with a beautiful Celtic design going over his left shoulder and onto the back of the shirt.

  The two men’s smiles faded when Ian didn’t respond. Danielle licked her lips and released Ian’s hand. She’d had a hold on the key in her pocket since they had arrived and it warmed when she looked at the man who had first spoken.

  “I’m Danielle Buchanan,” she said. “Ian saved my life and graciously offered to bring me here.”

  The man’s pale green eyes grew sad as they looked from Ian to her. “I’m Quinn MacLeod. It has been a long time since another Druid has made it to our castle.”

  “MacLeod,” she repeated. “So I did find you.”

  Quinn nodded. “You did.”

  “I’m Arran MacCarrick,” the second man said and held out his hand.

  Danielle smiled and shook it. “It’s nice to meet you, Arran.”

  “Come,” Quinn beckoned. “My wife and the other Druids are wanting to meet you.”

  “How did they know I was coming?”

  Arran chuckled. “Saffron told us. She had a vision of you a week ago, so we knew you were coming, and that you had help, but we had no idea it was Ian.”

  The men, including Broc, started toward the castle, but Ian didn’t move. Danielle faced him and put her hand on his arm. “Ian?”

  “I wanted to be here, but … I doona think I can stay.”

  “Why?”

  The wind picked up his long light brown hair so she saw strands of gold as well. “They didna search for me.”

  “You don’t know why. Save your anger until you do.”

  “They were my family, Danielle,” he said as his sherry eyes bored into hers. “I trusted them with my life.”

  She ached for him. “You trusted them enough to bring me here. Trust in them now.”

  A muscle moved in his jaw but he nodded his head. Danielle turned on her heel and started toward the gates where Quinn waited for them. In two strides Ian had caught up with her.

  When Danielle entered the gate her steps slowed as she saw people crowding the steps and doors of the castle.

  “They are impatient,” Quinn said with a chuckle.

  Danielle wasn’t exactly a shy person, but she wasn’t the kind who opened up easily either. She’d always blamed it on the scars from her parents’ deaths and being moved to Scotland.

  Yet seeing the friendly, welcoming smiles, Danielle understood why Ian had talked so fondly of the castle and the people he called his family.

  There was another man who resembled Quinn who ushered the others back inside. He wore a torc just as Quinn did, and the two small braids on either side of his temples set him apart from the others. That and his sea-green eyes.

  With Ian by her side, she followed Quinn into the castle as Broc, Arran, and the other man entered last.

  Danielle desperately wanted to turn and look at Ian. She couldn’t imagine how difficult it was for him to return, especially since Duncan was gone. She had a memory that was as vivid as if it had happened yesterday of when she walked back into her house in Florida after her parents’ death. It had been harder than she could have imagined.

  The memories had flooded her, but more than that, the knowledge that her parents were no longer with her made the house seem emptier, stranger. Even cold.

  “Ian!” A petite woman with wavy sable hair that reached past her shoulders and dozens of tiny braids at the crown of her head walked to Ian and wrapped her arms around him.

  Danielle could only stare as Ian stood frozen, his arms at his sides. Several moments passed before he slowly, awkwardly lifted his arms and loosely returned her hug.

  The woman stepped back, tears in her eyes. “We thought we’d lost you. You have no idea how worried we were.”

  “Give him some room, my darling,” Quinn said as he wrapped an arm around the woman’s slim shoulders and pulled her against him. “Danielle, this is my wife, Marcail.”

  Marcail laughed and wiped at her eyes. “Forgive me. I’m being so rude. I’m delighted to meet you, it’s just that Ian and Arran were with us in the Pit.”

  “You were in the Pit?” Danielle asked, her mouth open in shock.

  Quinn growled. “No thanks to Deirdre. It’s a long story, and one we’ll be happy to tell you once you’ve met everyone and gotten settled.”

  “A Druid, Quinn. It’s been so long,” Marcail whispered.

  Danielle’s attention was pulled from the couple as the man with braids stepped around her. “I’m the middle MacLeod brother, Lucan. And this”—he motioned a woman with long chestnut hair over to his side—“is my wife, Cara.”

  “Oh, I heard a little about your adventure when we passed the abbey,” Danielle said.

  Cara smiled. “We’re happy to have you here, Danielle.”

  “And I’m Fallon, the eldest MacLeod,” said another man who stepped beside Cara. He had short golden-brown hair and the darkest green eyes.

  She would have known he was a brother to Lucan and Quinn by his smile, but also by the torc around his neck.

  “I’m his wife, Larena.”

  Danielle could only stare in shock at the exquisite beauty of Larena. Before she could utter a word Hayden and Isla were there. Then Galen and Reaghan, Broc and Sonya, Logan and Gwynn, Camdyn, Fiona, Braden, and Charlie.

  She was surprised to discover Quinn and Marcail had a grown son, Aiden. And then there was Saffron. She stood off by herself, and when Fallon said her name, she smiled in Danielle’s direction.

  It was then Danielle realized Saffron was blind.

  With her mind in a whirl from all the introductions, Danielle wasn’t sure if she should give them the key now or not. The key had gone ice cold when she’d been surrounded by so many.

  “Not yet,” it whispered in her mind.

  “Why don’t I show you to your room?” Gwynn said.

  Danielle looked at Ian.

  “Go on,” he urged. He handed over the bag of Danielle’s things to Gwynn.

  But Danielle didn’t want to leave him. She knew he was having trouble coping with everything. He might need her. And she knew she felt more comfortable with him by her side.

  As Gwynn and Cara tugged her toward the stairs through the crowd, an uneasy feeling ran down her spine. She glanced back hoping to see who had caused it, but no one was looking at her. All eyes were on Ian.

  “Wait,” she said when she had walked up two steps. “I’m not leaving Ian.”

  “You aren’t,” Marcail said.

  Danielle looked behind her to find all the women with her. Only the men remained. Ian’s gaze lifted to her, and he gave her a slight nod.

  “He isn’t going anywhere,” Larena said. “Fallon won’t let him now that he’s home. Meanwhile, let Sonya heal your wounds. You’ll feel much better.”

  Danielle had no choice but to go with the women as they urged her up the stairs.

  Ian watched Danielle go and wanted to call her back, to reach for her hand and hold on to her. He’d been protecting her, keeping her away from danger. And even though he knew she was safe at the castle, he wasn’t done watching over her.

  “Will you ever be?” Duncan asked.

  Only when the women had disappeared up the stairs did Ian face the men before him. He knew every face in the crowd but two. Charlie and Aiden.

  He’d been slightly surprised to see Braden all grown-up, but he could still see the intelligent lad he remembered.

  “Aiden, you, Braden, and Charlie see if you can catch some fish for supper,” Quinn told his son.

  Son. Ian had looked forward to the birth of Marcail and Quinn’s child. When he had last seen them, Marcail had just begun t
o show. Now, Aiden was a grown man.

  There was so much Ian had missed, so many things he hadn’t experienced with his brethren. He felt like an outsider now. It was an emotion he hadn’t ever experienced at the castle before.

  “Where have you been?” Camdyn asked the question Ian knew everyone was curious to know.

  “Hiding.”

  A glass was shoved in his hand. Ian looked down to find amber liquid and the scent of whiskey. He downed it in one swallow then pushed through everyone and walked to the table.

  He stopped and stared at the spot where he had been sitting when he felt Duncan’s death. He could still remember the pain of their connection being broken, the spike of rage as all of Farmire’s power pooled within him.

  “We erected a stone cross for Duncan,” Quinn said softly from beside him. “It’s at the place where he was killed near the Isle of Eigg.”

  “Isla and the others protected it with magic,” Hayden continued. “No one will ever touch it.”

  “A fitting tribute to a good man and an honored brother,” Ian said.

  He touched the table before he lowered himself onto the bench. Memories of him and Duncan laughing and arguing assaulted him, of him calming Duncan’s vengeance for Deirdre that burned brightly inside his brother.

  If he started a sentence, Duncan would finish it. They always knew what the other was thinking. When Deirdre had Ian tortured, Duncan felt every lash, every hit that landed on Ian.

  The bond that had bound them as twins had only been strengthened with Farmire’s unbinding. And made it all the worse with Duncan’s death.

  “How long have you been in this time?” Arran asked.

  Ian wasn’t sure if he was grateful to be pulled out of his memories. He shrugged. “I doona know.”

  The others took their seats around the table, and Ian felt their eyes on him. He wanted to shout and tell them to go away, but they wouldn’t leave him alone until he gave them the answers they sought.

  “Please, Ian,” Fallon begged. “We want to know what happened.”

  “You want to know?” Ian bellowed, and slammed the glass on the table. It shattered in his hand, cutting him, but he didn’t feel anything. “One moment I was sitting here, then I was ripped to pieces by Duncan’s death. The next thing I knew I woke to find myself atop a mountain with my god trying to take control!”