Gawain cleared his throat and settled back in the chair, effectively bringing Duncan out of his reminiscing. Duncan settled into the leather chair, setting his drink on the handcrafted table next to him. A leather sofa was placed on the opposite side of the two chairs, with the entire ensemble facing a massive fireplace. Plush tapestries and area rugs added warmth to a room that very seldom saw anything but military planning and strategic commands.
Castle Dunrobin was Duncan’s ancestral home. The centuries old castle, situated north of Inverness, Scotland, was originally built sometime in the late 14th century, although the earliest written records mentioned 1401. The castle had an outer curtain wall—popular at that time—stretching around the castle on either side of the heavily fortified outer gate-house. The castle provided a distinct military advantage with its crenellated parapet and allure, the small walkway that allowed access between the parapets. The castle boasted several underground tunnels and passages that allowed for a safe retreat—should circumstances call for it—and its location along the bluffs meant the Order’s army would be easily seen.
“Have you talked to the Seer about her vision?” Gawain said, interrupting Duncan’s thoughts.
“Not since the night of the celebration,” Duncan replied, staring into his whiskey as if it alone held the answers to the universe. Nearly a week ago, they had hosted a party to celebrate the defeat of Hawkins and the collapse of his army. But before they had a chance to raise their glasses, the Seer had collapsed. A vision of Hawkins, very much alive, dispensed with their celebration and sent Gawain and his son into conference with their military leaders. Hours later, their fears were confirmed: Hawkins was still alive and had regrouped his northern armies in Germany. And while this came as a blow to the Templars, the other part of Caitriona’s vision was even more troubling. She had repeatedly noted the blood moon and that three would be needed to defeat the Order’s army.
“She has no idea what it means, other than what she’s shared with us,” Duncan added.
“Have you contacted Martinez?”
“Aye. They have the girl, but they dinna think she is the one the Seer prophesies.” Duncan swirled the whiskey in his glass. This time he took his time with the smooth liquid, letting it sit on his tongue before he swallowed it.
His father nodded, lost in his own thoughts.
“I can bring them both together, but if her prophesy is correct, there is still one more who is needed. It might be Nicolas, but I dinna believe he has enough genetic DNA tae wield any type of magic outside of what he’s already shown a propensity for.”
“I agree, son. And as far as I know, we’re the only ones who have used time travel to bring a gifted forward.” A comfortable silence settled between them, both lost to their own thoughts. “Have you said anything to Caitriona?” Gawain asked, interrupting the silence.
Duncan looked up and met his father’s eyes. “Nay.” His answer was clipped. He didn’t want to think about what that would mean. He was already on precarious ground with her, having proven, on more than one occasion, that he was unable to protect her. And, on top of his failings, the only thing he had to offer was the target that would be forever painted on her back.
He ran his hand through his thick black hair that fell nearly to his shoulders. Tiny lines framed his eyes and a deeper line ran between his brows, evidence of the responsibility and burdens he shouldered. There was a light peppering of grey around his temples, but otherwise, it was nearly impossible to tell he was just a few years south of 40.
“It would be better to tell her before you leave, son. She needs to prepare herself.”
“Aye, and Nicolas needs tae know as well.” He didn’t think he could bear to look into Caitriona’s liquid eyes, not with the knowledge of what he must do. “I’d best be gettin’ on wi it then,” he said, standing. “Will ye notify Martinez?” he asked his father.
The older man nodded. “He isn’t going to like it either. But it can’t be helped. We need to know if she is the one from Caitriona’s vision.”
“And if she is?” Their eyes met and neither acknowledged what they both knew to be true.
“One bridge at a time, son. One bridge at a time.”
Chapter Three
Caitriona rubbed her injured hand. In truth, the blow she delivered Duncan barely registered to the 6’7”, genetically-engineered warrior. She looked at her palm, still red while his cheek surfaced only a faint trace of pink. How she wished she were stronger. She wanted to cry, but rage pushed the tears away and gave her a strength she rarely possessed.
“You bastard,” she spat.
Duncan continued to stare at her. At 5’7”, Caitriona was taller than most women. She knew her height often lent her an air of authority, but next to Duncan’s size she felt small and vulnerable. She placed her hands on her hips and tried to look imposing. Her glorious auburn hair hung in loose curls down her back. The front had been intricately braided and pulled off her face, which now bore the anger she wore all too often these days. Her eyes were like emerald daggers as she pursed her lips and confronted him. Caitriona wanted to crawl inside his head and try to understand why he would keep this information from her.
“How long have you known?” she hissed, fearing the answer. She shifted her stance, and noticed the way his eyes traced the line of her body. She was clad in a simple day-gown of rich chocolate and burgundy that was indicative of her elevated status. She found the gowns she wore to be quite cumbersome and largely uncomfortable, but Duncan had insisted she continue to value the cultural traditions his people respected. He argued that it would help the Dwellers and Genetics alike to accept her as their Seer and prophet.
She repeated the question, her voice low and calculating. He said nothing, but continued to stare at her, his warrior’s mask of indifference and insignificance firmly in place. Once again, she was reminded of how little she meant to him. His was a singular cause: destroy the New World Order at any price. She also knew this was a war he’d been waging his entire life. The subterfuge and obfuscation ran deep. Her mouth parted as the pieces suddenly dropped into place, the final picture coming sharply into focus.
“You were the one who pulled me and Dani from the car wreck?” she whispered. She now knew this flywheel had been put in motion nearly 15 years ago when she was only a child. Her mind drifted back to the night of the car accident. She was 13 years old. It was August in Seattle and unusually rainy for that time of year. Her sister, Danika, had remarked that the roads were slick with rain and oil. As her sister started to let off the accelerator, the SUV she was driving hydroplaned on the two-lane highway and crossed the center line. Their vehicle was struck head-on by a motor home, killing their mother instantly. A man in another SUV saw the accident and stopped, pulling Danika from the wreckage, but she died later at the scene. Or so the doctors had told her. Caitriona spent several weeks in the hospital with multiple broken ribs, internal bleeding, and a ruptured disk. When she was finally released, it was with the stark realization that her life had been inextricably turned upside down. Her mother and sister were both dead and she was being placed with her overzealous Christian aunt.
Caitriona shook away the nostalgia and faced the man responsible for her abduction and empty childhood. “You were the man on the road that night,” she said, as more of a statement than a question. She already knew the answer. She could see the truth in Duncan’s eyes. “Why?” She had so many questions in that one word, but she thought that if she expressed them, the tears would come and never stop.
“Aye,” he said simply, in answer to her first question.
She stepped away from him and turned her back to him. She couldn’t look at him, not with the knowledge of what he had done. How deep does this run? The question tore at her brain and settled in her heart. “You told me when you first brought me on board your starship that you would never lie to me.”
Duncan touched her shoulder. She didn’t budge. She closed her eyes against the feelings his touch
evoked and tried to focus on the answers she needed.
“I havna lied tae ye, lass.”
“Withholding information is tantamount to lying,” she said through gritted teeth. “Surely you must see that.”
Duncan said nothing, but neither did he remove his hand from her shoulder. “The things I do are tae keep ye safe, Leannan,” he said quietly.
“Stop calling me that.” She turned to face him, effectively removing his hand from her shoulder. She instantly missed the warmth of his touch. “I want to see her,” she demanded.
He nodded his head, his eyes never leaving hers. “We’ll leave in the morning after breakfast,” he replied. “Nicolas will accompany you.” His response was hard, calculated. She knew better than to argue with him.
She tucked a stray curl behind her ear and strode gracefully toward the door. She started to push the door open but turned to face him instead. “I will never forgive you for this.” Not waiting for his reply, she pushed the heavy oak door open and fled to her rooms.
Chapter Four
“The resemblance is remarkable,” Nicolas said, his hand cupping Danika’s hair and letting it fall through his fingers.
“The resemblance to whom?” Danika Sinclair demanded, twisting away from the odd stranger. “Who do I look like?” She placed her hands on her hips, her eyes fixing him with a steely glare.
“Aye,” the older of the two men said.
“Ok. This is weird—even for me,” Danika said, stepping back from the first man’s scrutiny. “And I’ve done weird nearly all my life. I’m out of here.” She started to move past him, but he blocked her path. She locked her chestnut eyes with his brilliant blue ones, her arms akimbo. “Get out of my way,” she snarled.
The stranger stared at her, a crooked grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. The smug look on his face infuriated her. She tried to go around him, but he stepped easily with her. Frustrated, she raised her hand to strike him, but he blocked the blow, grabbing her arm and yanking her to him.
“Don’t. Test. Me.” He enunciated each word clearly and slowly, his voice low and terse.
She stared at him, her heart beating wildly as he held her against him. She could feel the sinewy hardness of his muscles as he effortlessly pinned her lithe body against his. His hair was brushed back in soft waves, the color in stark contrast to the crisp white of his freshly laundered, collared shirt. She had a sudden, uncontrollable urge to undo the buttons and push the soft fabric from his shoulders. Lost in her fantasy, she felt her face grow hot as he placed two fingers beneath her chin and brought her eyes back to his face. Her mouth made a tiny “oh” of surprise as she realized she’d been caught eyeing the goods.
The older man cleared his throat, reminding the two they weren’t the only ones in the room. Dani looked at the older man, glad for the momentary distraction yet acutely aware he’d also witnessed her shameless behavior. She’d never seen a man as large as the imposing warrior. Even the ranch hands who did most of the heavy labor around the hacienda couldn’t come close to this man’s bulk. He was all lines and muscles and damn intimidating. The younger man, in contrast, was lean and sculpted. His eyes were an arresting shade of blue that set off his jet-black hair. He excited her in a way no other man ever had and that was dangerous territory for her.
Dani pulled away from the younger man and placed her hands on her hips, her sloe-eyes throwing daggers. “I want answers or I will call my guards.”
Nicolas laughed softly. “Une feroce, it was your guards who brought us to you.” At the look of alarm on her face, Nicolas added, “Relax, ma belle. We are not the enemy. We are on the same side. We fight for the same freedoms.”
She tapped her foot impatiently, her anger growing more visible. “Who are you?” she demanded, cocking her head to one side, a scowl forming on her otherwise soft features.
“I’m a friend,” he said, his arms splayed wide in front of him.
“I don’t have any,” she growled. It was a lie. But she didn’t want to show any sign of weakness in front of this man. She needed reinforcements and someone to corroborate his story.
“Then you need one,” he said more softly this time, his voice deep and rich.
She arched one delicate eyebrow at him but otherwise said nothing. Her heart continued its erratic pace while her legs threatened to give out, but she was determined to hold her ground. “You both need to leave,” she said with more authority than she felt. “I don’t know why you’re here or why my guards would have let you pass, but until Grand Maester Martinez says differently, I will treat you both as the intruders you appear to be.” She gestured toward the door, but both men remained where they were.
Dani didn’t like where this was headed. She pushed past Nicolas and pulled the door open, intending to exit. He crossed the room in three easy strides and grabbed her arm but not before she screamed for her guards.
“Guardias, vienen aqui! Ven rapido!” Her command of the Spanish language was perfect, evident of one who’d spent years among the native Mexican people.
Nicolas pulled her back into the room and yanked her to him. She tried to pull away from him, but his hold was firm enough to bruise. She wasn’t going to win on strength alone. She screamed until his hand came up and covered her mouth, silencing her. She struggled against him, kicking and clawing, but her efforts were ineffective—like a fly caught in a spider’s web.
“Nicolas,” the older man stated sharply. “Dinna forget why we are here, lad,” he admonished him.
Nicolas pulled Dani tight against his body and said, “Enough. We are not here to hurt you.”
When she stopped struggling, he removed his hand from her mouth.
“Then what are you here for?” she demanded. “Where is the Grand Maester?”
“There will be plenty of time to answer all of your questions, mon coeur,” Nicolas replied, his fingers biting into her flesh. She twisted against him but he held her tight.
“Who are you?” she asked again. She reached up and pulled her long chestnut hair from between their bodies where it had become trapped. Several loose tendrils fanned out around her, framing her heart-shaped face and accentuating the sun-kissed coloring of her skin.
As if on cue, two guards burst into the room followed by the Grand Maester. Nicolas released his hold on her, but remained where he was. She rubbed her arm where she knew pink spots would soon darken into bruises. She pushed her hair from her eyes and glared at her antagonist.
“We need to talk to ye, lass,” the older man said as the guards took up a silent sentry on either side of her.
“Gabe, que esta ocurriendo aqui?” she asked, her voice demanding and sure. She rushed over to the older Maester and took both his hands in hers and kissed each of his cheeks. She thought of Gabe Martinez, Grand Maester of Casa Naica, as her father. The man had mentored and befriended her when she came to Casa Naica in Mexico over 15 years ago. She had been a young woman then, frightened, alone, and unsure of her place in this world. But with his patience, kindness, and an uncanny ability to teach through parables, she quickly warmed to the older man.
“Mi niña, dulce,” he said in a thick Spanish accent. “En Englis para nuestros huespedes.” He nodded toward the two men. “These men have come a long way—from Scotland, in fact. May I introduce Captain Duncan MacKinnon, leader of the Knights Templar, and his second lieutenant, Nicolas LaFelle. They are warriors in our same fight, niña. I am honored that they visit us here in Mexico.” He bowed in the direction of the two men, placing his right hand over his heart as a sign of respect and reverence.
Danika nodded at the towering giant whose expression she couldn’t read. A slight tick above his left eye told her he was withholding something from her. She intended to find out what secrets he guarded beneath that cold exterior. Danika raked her eyes over Nicolas, locking brown eyes with blue. The smug expression he wore earlier was still firmly in place and it rankled her beyond belief. What an arrogant asshole, she thought.
; Tearing her gaze away from Nicolas’ intensely blue eyes, she started to say something to her mentor and father figure when the door burst open and an arresting woman with hair like an autumn sunset stormed into the room. Her gaze grazed the room until she settled on the leader of the Knights Templar. Dani could see the fury in the woman’s eyes and her hands that were balled into fists at her side. The stunning woman strode across the room and slapped the giant hard across the face. He didn’t flinch. She started to strike him a second time, but this time he blocked the blow and grabbed her wrist.
The woman’s chest was heaving and her face was flushed. Dani felt as if she should know her but couldn’t quite place the memory…until the woman spoke. Two words and a flood of memories came rushing back to her. Danika stumbled back, not wanting to accept what she already knew in her heart was true. Her heartbeat hammered out a fast staccato and she felt her world grow dark before her. She probably would have passed out had it not been for the strong arms of the man who’d confronted her earlier. Staring at the woman who stood before her, Dani knew where she’d seen her before.
Dark Gathering Page 2
