Tharaen (Immortal Highlander Book 2): A Scottish Time Travel Romance

by Hazel Hunter

  Druids rarely gathered indoors as a group, but on the rare occasions they did every window and entry were draped with greenery and left open. The meeting house contained one central, empty room reserved for hearings. When the offense proved grave enough, the oldest and most powerful conclavists among druid kind were summoned to preside over and resolve the matter.

  The men returned with a goblet of bell heather ale, but the dusky purple color of it made Bhaltair’s stomach clench. Would everything remind him of Yana now? It was as if the outsider woman had set a memory curse on him.

  “I feel much improved,” he told Lachlan, and allowed the laird to help him to his feet. In a lower voice he asked, “You’ve explained the way of this to your lady?”

  Lachlan nodded. “Kinley asks only to stand for the lieutenant.”

  Bhaltair felt no great concern over that. While the lady had druid blood she held no official rank.

  “And you, Lord,” Bhaltair said. “How do you mean to speak?”

  The laird’s mouth hitched. “As I ever do, Master Flen.”

  Inside the meeting chamber the conclave stood in a broad circle around a sickle cast from pure gold that lay upon a slab of polished, marbled green topaz. The ancient tool had once been used by the first druids to collect sacred mistletoe, which had been worked on the slab. Both had been carefully preserved and protected through countless generations and incarnations as a reminder of power and responsibility.

  One of the eldest conclavists, chosen by lot before the gathering as the arbitrator, stepped up to the sickle and slab. He bowed in respect before raising his hands and turning until he had looked upon every face within the chamber.

  “We come together in the eyes of the gods,” he intoned, “to gather truth and bestow justness. Who brings this matter before the conclave?”

  Bhaltair stepped into the circle. “I do. I was wounded by a female outsider who crossed over in the sacred grove on Skye. She is druid kind, or she would no’ have opened the time portal.” He waited until the murmurs stopped before he continued. “This outsider entered Dun Aran and attacked Seneschal Tharaen Aber there. I challenged her by word alone, and she replied with great contempt. When I didnae yield, the weapon she brought with her blasted a hole through my arm.” He opened his robe and tugged down the bandage to expose the wound. “Here is the proof.”

  A few of the conclavists stepped closer to examine Bhaltair’s arm, and then conferred in low voices. Finally they returned to the circle as the arbitrator asked, “Who speaks for the accused?”

  “I do.” Kinley came to stand beside Bhaltair. “Diana Burke is an officer of the law in my time. She was searching for me when she fell into the grove portal. She didn’t know what had happened to her, or where she was. She reacted as she would have in our time. But she did not deliberately injure Master Flen.”

  The conclavists asked questions about Diana, the nature of her weapon, and her knowledge of druid kind. Bhaltair listened closely to everything the laird and his lady said about the outsider, but they knew little of her, and offered no valid reason to keep the woman at Dun Aran.

  But Bhaltair knew exactly who she was. He had known it the moment he had looked into her flowery eyes.

  She will be made to go back, or I will send her there myself.

  “Master Flen,” the arbitrator said, making him flinch. “Do you wish to speak on the lady’s claims?”

  He inclined his head, and bowed politely to Kinley before he spoke to Lachlan. “The conclave respects you and your clan, my lord, as friends and protectors of the druids. But you are not druid kind. Unhappily, this outsider woman is.” He regarded the faces of his brothers and sisters. “Only druid blood could have allowed this female to come to our time. As a druidess born she may possess more power, even greater than the weapon used to hurt me.”

  “Or she may no’,” the laird countered. “We dinnae ken the nature of druid kind from her time.”

  “What we ken is that she isnae aware of it. She has no previous incarnation to guide her. I am sorry to say ’tis no’ your concern, my lord.” Bhaltair held up his hands. “Forget the pain I suffer, brothers and sisters, and think on what an untrained druidess could do.” He nodded at Kinley. “What we have already seen done.”

  The laird’s wife gave him a narrow look. “You mean, like save the lives of all the druids in this settlement from the undead? Do you remember how I did that, Master Flen? I burned to death for you.”

  “So you did, my lady. ’Twas why we brought you back, and gave you the gift of immortal life.” Bhaltair regarded the arbitrator. “I have shown good cause to consider this outsider female too reckless and dangerous to remain among us. I ask nothing for myself in this matter. I but call on the conclave to see her returned to her time.”

  The arbitrator lifted the golden sickle from its slab and held it aloft. Slowly he turned, slicing the blade through the air until he had passed it before all assembled. Gently he replaced it and bowed before he stepped back.

  “What does that mean?” Bhaltair heard Kinley whisper.

  “They have cast their votes on the matter,” Lachlan murmured. “Watch now.”

  The sickle’s blade grew bright, and long vines of mistletoe appeared above the gathered druids. The sacred plant wove itself into an intricate cable of white and green light as it hovered briefly over Kinley and Lachlan. Finally it floated away from them to Bhaltair, descending over his face to drape his neck before it dimmed and vanished.

  Bhaltair’s arm throbbed like a rotten tooth, but he could bear it now. That demon-eyed female would be made to leave, and he would never again think on her or Yana or anything that put holes in him.

  “The conclave finds for Master Flen,” the arbitrator said to the laird and his lady. “We agree that Diana Burke will be sent back.”

  Lachlan nodded. “I am grateful for your wisdom, but I believe that Lieutenant Burke will soon choose to return to her time. There is naught to keep her here.”

  “My lord,” Bhaltair said as his jaw sagged. “Has she no’ done enough harm? You cannae wait. She must be taken to the grove as soon as you return to Skye. The very moment.”

  The laird’s mouth flattened, and then he turned to his wife and spoke quietly with her. Finally he nodded and turned back to the conclave.

  “We will consider your counsel and discuss the matter with our clan,” the laird said. “Thank you for your guidance.”

  Without another word he took Kinley’s arm and left the chamber.

  Bhaltair stared after them, unable to grasp what had just happened, and then turned on the arbitrator.

  “But she must go. This night. The conclave decided it.”

  “Were the wench here, yes,” the elder druid said. “But the McDonnels have her and, among the clan, Lachlan has the final word. We cannae storm the castle and take her from them. Mayhap ’twill be as the laird said. The female hasnae reason to remain.”

  “As you say, Brother,” Bhaltair said.

  He had been beaten again, but he felt no outrage or pain. The calm he had prayed for filled him like soft, icy snow, for this time he would not accept defeat. This time, he would strike back.

  Chapter Ten

  RAEN FINISHED CARRYING up the last of the new bales to the hay loft, and came down to find Seoc Talorc glumly repairing tack. Since Evander had run off with his lover the stable master had been spending more and more time alone, and now looked drawn and gaunt, as if he had not been sleeping or eating. As Evander’s cousin, Seoc had been shunned by many of their clansmen. Despite all Raen’s duties, he had made a point to spend a little time with the stable master when he could.

  “’Tis kind of you to help, Seneschal,” Seoc said, and put aside the bridle he had mended. “Has there been any word from the laird and lady?”

  “Yes, they are spending another night on the mainland.” He eyed the worn saddle the stable master had mounted on his stitching form. “Why do you mend that? ’Tis older than the clan.”

&n
bsp; “’Tis fitted for Tormod Liefson’s bony arse,” Seoc said. “He’ll no’ have another until the wood rots away from under him.” He frowned at the saddle. “I promised him he could fit the new hide at today noon, when his guard duty ended.”

  Raen winced. “I go to relieve him now.” He disliked meddling, but added, “Leave the saddle, and come up to the hall tonight. The maids have been pining for you.”

  “These would be the same maids who’ve been showing their backs to me ever since my cousin turned traitor?” Seoc gave him a doleful look. “You were never a good liar, Raen Aber.”

  “Aye.” He touched the stable master’s shoulder. “But you are missed, Brother, and by more than me.”

  As Raen walked from the stables to the stronghold, he knew he would have to speak to Lachlan about Seoc. The laird was well aware of the man’s shame, and a show of trust in Seoc would do much to relieve his silent suffering. He only wished he could do the same for Diana.

  Last night, when he’d gone to find her and the druid, he’d overheard everything she’d told Cailean Lusk about her childhood. It appalled him to think of anyone starving and beating a child for simply being hungry, but to know it had been done to the lieutenant enraged him. It also explained why she spent so much time running and lifting and bending herself in impossible shapes. Her strong, lovely body had once been sickly and weak.

  Knowing what Diana had suffered had shocked him almost as much as his lightning spirit marking her as his mate—and he had yet to speak to her about the latter. She had told Cailean that she didn’t believe in magic, so she would likely scoff at the Pritani of old, and the powers sometimes bestowed on them by their chosen spirits. Diana still remained unaware that the McDonnel clan had been brought back from the dead, and that they had lived as immortals for more than a millennia.

  Raen had hoped the laird and his lady would have returned by now, so they could decide what to tell the lieutenant. Instead he would have to guard her another night. Tormod met him at the base of the tower stairs.

  “She’s gone from her room,” the Norseman said and grimaced. “She wanted to see where the river empties into the ocean, but I told her ’twas too late for a walk. ’Twas why she sent me to fetch her bathing water, so she could steal away. A jötunn would be easier to keep penned.”

  “She is bored,” Raen said suspecting that Diana had finally grown impatient with her confinement. “I’ll bring her back and watch her for the night. Go and get some sleep.”

  “You’ll want chains for her,” the Norseman predicted. “And mayhap a large cudgel for yourself.”

  Raen sent a guard to inform Neac he was leaving the stronghold, and took the path through the ridge peaks that led down to the river. Tormod’s solution to every problem with females involved fetters and raiding tactics, but if he could not convince Diana to cooperate, Raen might very well have to put her in shackles.

  As he reached the edge of the estuary, he saw a torch that had been wedged upright between two large rocks beside Diana’s shoes. He stared at the odd footwear, for they made no sense to him. Why would she remove them here, unless…

  “Diana.” He rushed to the edge of the water, yanking off his boots and vest as he peered out at the dark, cold waters. “Where are you? Call to me.”

  He heard a splash as he stripped out of his trews, and looked over to see a pale figure sinking beneath the surface. He waded in and dove deep, dissolving into his water-bonded form that made him as fast as light. He streaked through the murky depths until he felt the warmth of her, and surfaced.

  Several yards away Diana did the same, gasping as she wiped a hand over her face.

  “Boy, I’m glad I grew up by the Pacific. This water makes frigid sound cozy.”

  Raen changed back and swam over to her, only to see her submerge and dart beneath him. He spun, blinking the sting of salt from his eyes until he saw her again.

  “You can swim?”

  “You thought I couldn’t?” she said as her lips curved. “Aw, you jumped in to save me? That’s adorable. I should mention that I was a real jock in college. I lettered in distance swimming, softball and track.”

  “I thought you were drowning!” That he shouted the words made him feel even more the fool. He clamped down on his temper. “The sea is too cold. You cannae swim here.”

  “I can’t swim, I can’t leave the castle, and I can’t walk around without a guard.” She made a rude sound. “What can I do?”

  “No’ scare me like this. ’Twould be very good to do that.” He reached out and pulled her into his arms, and then stiffened the moment her skin brushed his. “Diana, why are you naked?”

  “You haven’t invented the swimsuit yet. Or the wetsuit, for that matter.” She lifted her arms and linked her hands behind his neck. “You’re naked, too.”

  “I was saving you, no’ seducing you.” He tried to put some space between them, but she curled her long legs around his. “We will sink.”

  She leaned close to press her cheek against his and whispered, “I don’t care.”

  Raen felt the lightning spirit awakening, and quickly turned his head to break the contact with her skin.

  “I ken what Cailean told you, but you are no’ my wife. You dinnae belong here. ’Tis a mistake.”

  “Doesn’t feel like one at the moment,” she said but drew back a little. “We’re naked and alone, Big Man. We’ve both wanted this since you tied me to that bed.” She slid her palm up to cover his marked cheek. “Feel it? It’s like you’re already inside me.”

  Raen clamped her against him and swam one-armed until he could touch bottom. Then he trudged out of the water. When he set her on her feet her breasts grazed his chest, and the soft curls of her sex clung to the throbbing base of his erection. He would do the decent thing and set her away from him, as soon as he had warmed her, as soon as she stopped touching him, as soon as the spirit subsided–

  He dragged her up against him, glorying in the feel of her resilient, slender form as he kissed her. Her lips parted for him, and he ravished her mouth, the way he had wanted to since the night she had come to the castle. His hands found their way down to her buttocks, and he clasped the firm curves, pressing her against his throbbing cock and rubbing her against his shaft. She made a small, sweet sound and hitched herself up on him, her breasts dragging against his chest as she grabbed a handful of his hair. He wanted to fack her so badly he shook with it, but he wrenched his mouth from hers.

  “Diana, we mustnae…”

  “Please find a place where we can stretch out,” she said, sounding breathless and eager. “Grass, rock, glen, I don’t care. I need you.” She moved against him, letting him feel the slickness of her little quim. “See? You know you want it, and God, so do I.”

  “We cannae,” he said, as he set her down and backed away from her. “I am no’ for you. I cannae have you.”

  “You can have me right now,” she assured him. “I’m right here, I’m naked, I’m willing. Is there something else I need to do or say?”

  Bright, hot power began to spark inside him.

  “Please,” he said through clenched teeth. “Go back to the castle. Now. Hurry.”

  It was too late to stop it. He knew it as soon as he felt his face burn. The chilly air crackled around them as his ink came alive and spilled down over his heart, spattering her with its silver-white sparks of power.

  “Oh, my god,” Diana gasped and covered the flow with her hands as if to stop it. “What is happening to you?”

  “It’s awake now,” Raen said tightly as he wrapped his arms around her, pressing her long, lovely body against his. “Be still, or the spirit will take what it wants from us.”

  Diana watched the ink spread across Raen’s chest in a glittering web.

  “It? You mean your tattoos? They’re alive?”

  “The spirit inside them,” he muttered. “Ah, fack.”

  “Tattoos don’t light up and move around. They can’t.” She could feel it moving under
her fingers. “But yours do. What does this spirit want exactly?”

  “You.” The light crackling across his skin echoed in tiny white glints in his gray eyes as he glanced down. “’Tis my longing for you it shares. It wants you.”

  His ink spilled from his chest onto her breasts, and spun around Diana’s beaded, puckered nipples. The hot, sparkling sensation radiated into her chest and belly. It was absolutely sexual as the ink tightened on her peaks and trickled down toward her thighs.

  “I think your tattoos are feeling me up.” Her breasts ached so much she pressed them against his unyielding muscles, which provided a little relief. “Shouldn’t it, I don’t know, kiss me first?”

  Raen caught her chin between his thumb and fingers and tilted her face up as he bent his head.

  “Your lips are mine, Diana. I willnae share them.”

  His mouth might have looked hard, but when it covered her lips it felt just as luscious and sexy as the first time he’d kissed her. The way he went at it, all desperate and hungry, made her shiver with delight. She opened for him, and he took her with his tongue, tasting and stroking her with frank, carnal greed. No man had ever kissed her the way she really wanted it—not until tonight. He kissed her as if she were precious and fragile, and also as if he were having sex with her mouth, all at once.

  “No,” she muttered when he took his mouth away. “Don’t go all polite and remote on me now. Do that again.”

  “’Tis too dangerous, my lady.” Raen cradled the back of her head with his hand, and pressed her cheek against his chest. Like her he was panting, and under her clutching hands his tough muscles felt more like rock than flesh. “We are strangers still. I cannae lay claim to you, no’ when you are to return to your time.”

  “Maybe I’ll stay and claim you.” She felt something like a tingling lick over her clit, and groaned. “I think the spirit just voted for that.”

  Raen muttered something in a strange language, and picked her up as if she were a doll. He carried her to a patch of thick grass, knelt, and lowered her onto her side. But then he lay down behind her, stretching one massive arm across her waist.