by Donna Grant
He got off the bike, reaching for his mobile in his back pocket at the same time to see who kept calling him. His lips compressed when he saw it was Charon. For several minutes Phelan contemplated returning the call. In the end, he knew he didn’t have a choice.
Phelan pressed dial. Three rings later it went to voice mail. He waited for the beep, then said, “It’s me. Everything is fine. I’m still with the Druid. There’s also been no sign of Wallace. Let me know any news on your end.”
He hung up the phone and went to pocket it when it rang. Phelan glanced down to see Logan’s name pop up on the screen. He answered with a tight, “Hello?”
“How is everything on your end?”
“That depends on how things are going there.”
Logan’s chuckle came through the phone. “We’ve some news you might want to know. Britt is still a few days away from finishing her serum.”
“This will combat whatever Wallace has done to the drough blood?”
“Aye.”
“That is good news. I detect something in your voice though. What else is going on?”
Logan let out a long sigh. By the silence through the phone Phelan knew he was alone.
“Logan?”
“Things are strained here. Half want to believe Wallace is dead and concentrate on finding the spell to bind our gods. The other half are ready for battle.”
Phelan rubbed his chin. “Which category do you fall into?”
“I wish I could say I believed Wallace is dead, but I know you wouldna lie about what you felt.”
“I didna. It’s Wallace’s magic. I’d know it anywhere, just as Declan’s and Deirdre’s was distinctive. So is Wallace’s.”
“I believe you, Phelan. It’s why I’m ready for battle. The Druids have been adding more spells to the castle. A few will be heading to Ferness to do the same there.”
Phelan looked out over the loch, hating what Wallace was doing to them. “You know as well as I how easy it is to get through spells. Ramsey did it effortlessly enough at Wallace’s mansion. He’ll do it wherever he is.”
“Aye, but it’ll give us time. Isla is setting something up so that she’ll be notified if anyone attempts to come through the spells or tries to break them.”
It was everything Phelan could do not to growl at the mention of Isla’s name. Instead he said, “What do you want of me?”
“We want to make sure everything is all right.”
“It is.”
“And the Druid?”
Phelan looked over his shoulder at his cabin. For whatever reason, he wasn’t ready to share her with anyone else. “She’s on the run from someone. I’m no’ sure who, but until I am, I’m keeping her safe.”
“Where are you?”
He hesitated a bit too long because Logan laughed and said, “You know all I have to do is ask Broc to find you.”
“I know it all too well. If you must know, I’m about an hour south of Loch Ness.”
Logan made a sound at the back of his throat. “I’ve often wondered if you had a place you went. That’s where you’re at now, is it no’?”
“Aye.”
“We’ll no’ be bothering you unless it’s necessary. Let me know if you need help with your Druid.”
Your Druid.
Phelan hung up the phone with that phrase running through his mind. He quite liked it. He wasn’t sure how Aisley would feel about it, which made him smile.
He pocketed his phone before he grabbed the bag of groceries he’d strapped to the back of the bike. Phelan hurried into the house and kicked the door closed behind him.
Aisley had been right. The house was his haven, his sanctuary. The only other people who knew of it were the caretakers he had when he knew he wouldn’t return for a while.
There hadn’t been a single instance in the four centuries after he built the house that he’d thought to ever bring a woman here.
Now, it seemed right, fitting even, that Aisley was there.
Phelan followed her magic to the bathroom. The door was open, allowing him to see her reclining in the tub staring out the window.
He leaned a shoulder against the door frame and smiled at the bubbles that were up to her chin. She grinned wickedly as if she knew he was watching her.
“I’m all pruny,” she said as she lifted her feet from the water and wiggled her toes.
“Maybe it’s time to get out then.”
“I’ve been telling myself that for thirty minutes but this feels so good. And the view.” She turned her face to him. “I saw a squirrel and there are birds galore. They love your flowers.”
Phelan’s smile grew. “I’ve got to check a few things around the place. Give a shout if you need me.”
She gave him a little wave and turned back to the view. Phelan put away the groceries and then went outside. He moved the Ducati to the shed on the other side of the house to keep it out of sight.
After checking the amount of firewood, he examined the plants. With cutters, he trimmed off the dead and wilted flowers in the front before pulling weeds. He walked around back once those were up to his standards.
Phelan loved sitting on his porch and looking over the loch, but the two chairs and small table situated in the middle of his rather large flower garden in the back ran a close second.
He found contentment in getting his hands in the soil and watching the plants grow. One of his favorite things was watching his garden come alive with color in the spring after the winter snows.
Phelan knelt next to one of the flower beds and began to pull weeds. The others would probably laugh if they saw him now, which is one reason he kept so much to himself.
Charon was the closest thing he had to a family, but Phelan didn’t share everything with him. It was just in the last few years that he even called anyone friend.
For four centuries he had been his only friend and confidante. After leaving Cairn Toul and Deirdre’s clutches, Phelan had searched to discover who he was.
He wandered aimlessly while learning what society was and how he fit in. He had to learn about money, work, family, and relationships.
Phelan squeezed his eyes closed for a moment. Those first fifty years had been awful. He learned the hard way that he fit in nowhere.
When Isla freed him and she lay dying, she’d told him to seek out the MacLeods. Perhaps he should have, but he managed on his own. It had been painful, grim, and difficult most days, yet he’d gotten through.
He still didn’t know much about family and less about relationships of any sort. He’d bedded his first woman a year after leaving Cairn Toul.
For the next week, he’d learned everything he could from the woman. Her husband returned from sea, and Phelan moved on to the next woman, and then the next.
He versed himself in how to charm women, to seduce them until they were putty in his hands. While other men studied economics, law, or medicine, Phelan’s knowledge turned to carnal pleasures. There wasn’t anything he didn’t take the time to learn.
Women were his teachers and his studies. For the few hours he was theirs, they shared their bodies and pleasure. But no more.
Never more.
Phelan knew it was because he had a hard time relying on anyone. He’d never felt the need to spend more than one night with a woman, and then not even the entire night. Which is why he was having a difficult time wrapping his head around the fact he had brought Aisley to his home.
He pulled out a dead plant and tossed it aside. Next he checked the roots of the plant beside it and made sure it was covered adequately with soil.
Phelan wondered if Charon knew their friendship was something new to him. Most likely Charon did. It had been him, after all, who had told Phelan the story of how Warriors came to be and the role of the Druids.
For centuries, Phelan assumed all Druids were the same. He’d felt the difference in their magic, but to him, they were all evil creatures using their magic against everyone.
It wasn’t unti
l those at MacLeod Castle took a last stand against Deirdre and her new accomplice, Declan Wallace, that Charon convinced Phelan to join in and help the others.
The centuries of peace had been good, but he was a Warrior. He was meant for battle, blood, and death. And it had felt damn good going into the fray.
His god, Zelfor, the god of torment, had been truly satisfied during those skirmishes. There was no getting away from what he was. He could pretend he was just a man, but the lust for death, the joy of using his claws to slice open an enemy felt too good.
He was a monster with a tightly leashed primeval god inside him. His skin might turn a metallic gold when he unleashed his god. With gold claws, gold eyes, and impressive fangs, there wasn’t anything tame about him.
Phelan looked down at his hand in the dark soil and saw the gold skin. He pulled his hand from the dirt and flicked off the remains from his claws.
“This is what I am,” he murmured.
Zelfor rumbled his agreement inside him.
Phelan ran his tongue over the fangs that sprouted in his mouth. Aisley said she knew he was a Warrior, but how would she react if she saw him now?
That made his chest clench in dread. She was like that frightened kitten he’d found—skittish and afraid of its own shadow.
One wrong move and Aisley would disappear again. Phelan would track her the rest of his life if he had to, but he didn’t want it to come to that.
He wanted her.
In his bed.
But more than that, he wanted her to need him.
CHAPTER
TWELVE
Aisley finished drying off. It had been months since she had the chance to soak in a tub without constant fear hounding her. She couldn’t sense magic, so Jason could have sneaked up on her at any time. At least with Phelan, he’d alert her to another Druid’s presence.
She turned to hang the towel up on the hook and paused to look at the magnificent flower garden. From her vantage point in the tub all she’d caught was a few glimpses of tall flowers, but this was a surprise.
It was probably a good thing she hadn’t seen it before she got in the tub, or she’d never have taken the bath. There was a memory she’d held onto of when she was six years old and her parents had taken her to Royal Botanic Garden in Edinburgh.
Aisley smiled, recalling how much she’d loved running up and down the paths, flowers flowing on either side of her. She had felt just like a princess that day.
Phelan’s flower garden rivaled the botanic garden. She couldn’t believe the array of flowers he had. From white to dark red, bright yellow, vibrant purple, and every color in between. It was like a rainbow had exploded and dripped the colors upon the flower petals. His caretakers must spend hours every day out here.
She was clasping her bra when movement in the garden caught her eye. That’s when she spotted Phelan on his knees tending the plants. His hands were quick and thorough, proving he obviously knew what he was doing.
This Aisley hadn’t expected. She hurried to dress and went into the kitchen to make some tea. The kitchen window over the sink looked out to the garden, and Aisley found herself watching Phelan instead of the flowers.
She poured two mugs of tea then headed outside. When she came to the steps leading into the backyard from the porch that wrapped around the sides of the house, she paused.
Phelan seemed more relaxed since they’d arrived. She’d seen him in battle, knew how fierce and savage he could be. But the man who was tending the flowers was a contradiction she didn’t know how to puzzle out.
His long dark locks were pulled back in a queue and tied with a leather string. She smiled. Phelan might live in modern times, and he might have experienced over five centuries of time, but he was still a medieval Highlander.
That appealed to her on a level that made her take a step back in caution. She thought she’d known the Warrior before her, when in fact she knew nothing other than his ability to fight with deadly accuracy.
Had he been the one to kill Mindy in the woods? She knew without a doubt she’d have met the same fate had she been the one to chase after the Warriors.
That thought was a cold dose of reality.
Phelan, for all his handsomeness, kindness, and strength wasn’t someone she could rely on for long. Whether she tried to hide the knowledge she was a drough or outright told him of her involvement with Jason, he would find out.
Aisley knew all about trying to keep secrets. She closed her eyes as a wave of anguish poured over her. Her love and need for her baby, even after all these years, still had the ability to rip through her like the sharpest of blades.
“Aisley?”
She snapped open her eyes to find Phelan staring at her from his place on the ground. Aisley drew in a shaky breath and pushed aside thoughts of her daughter as she held out a mug. “I made tea.”
“That sounds good.”
She stepped barefoot off the steps and onto the cool grass before walking to the two chairs set in the middle of the garden.
Phelan met her at the chairs and took one of the mugs. “I didn’t know how you liked your tea,” she said.
“One sugar.”
“Good. That’s how I take mine.”
They shared a smile before they each took a seat in the chairs angled toward each other. Aisley didn’t find the silence that followed uncomfortable. The chirping of birds and the rustle of leaves as the wind whispered through the trees was comforting. She leaned her head back against the chair and simply took it all in.
“You really enjoy it here,” Phelan said.
Aisley grinned. “I do. My parents lived in Perth. They liked the city life and the noise of it all. I didn’t know anything else until later. I prefer country life.”
“You’re far away from shops and restaurants.”
She shrugged and turned her head to look at him. “I’m an awful cook, but I could do without restaurants for the most part. As for shopping, that I couldn’t give up altogether. Every couple of months or so would be nice.”
“You like it because you feel hidden.”
“That’s why you chose it.” His brows rose at her response, and he smiled before lifting the mug to his lips. Aisley looked back at the flowers. “You did all this, didn’t you?”
“Aye. Surprised?”
“Yes. And, oddly, no.”
“What does that mean?” he asked.
Aisley shrugged and wrapped both hands around her mug. She contemplated her answer as she sipped the tea. “I know about Warriors. You’re supposed to be the best fighters in your bloodline. I assumed all you thought about was battle.”
“In some ways, aye. Especially when there is evil to fight. My God isna satisfied unless I’m in the midst of battle.”
She looked at him once more. “Then I’m not surprised. Because … well, because this suits you. When we arrived I saw the tension ease out of you. You are part of this land, and it’s a part of you.”
“Where did you learn your knowledge of Warriors?” he asked.
“My family.” Aisley prayed he didn’t ask if she had known a Warrior. She couldn’t tell him about Dale. The Warrior had saved her several times from Jason and other things. He died saving her from the white-skinned monsters who had gone after Jason.
Aisley barely suppressed a shudder just thinking of the creatures. She missed Dale’s quiet presence, how he’d always stood between her and Jason. He had wanted more from her, but had been content with friendship.
“I gather your family didna like Warriors.”
She mentally shook herself when Phelan’s voice broke into her thoughts. “I wouldn’t say that. I know the story of how Warriors were created. I know it took both sects of Druids to bind the gods inside the men.”
“So you know it was Deirdre who began to unbind the gods seven centuries ago.”
“Yes.”
“Do you know there were Warriors who banded together with Druids to fight Deirdre?”
Aisley nodded.
“Then she disappeared for four hundred years.”
“Do you know why?”
What did she tell him? The truth? She didn’t want to lie, but her omission of who she was was also a lie. From what she knew of Phelan, she didn’t doubt he would react severely to being betrayed. Aisley took a drink of tea before she said, “Tell me what you think happened.”
“A man named Declan Wallace brought her forward into this time. Except he didna take just her. At the time she had just taken the head of one of the Warriors from MacLeod Castle. That Warrior’s twin brother knew instantly of his death. That connection, combined with Declan’s magic brought Ian forward in time as well.”
Aisley listened with interest. She knew of the MacLeods, but only what Jason had wanted to tell her. Dale hadn’t said much about them other than that they were damned hard to kill.
But that could be said for any Warrior.
“Since Ian disappeared while inside the castle, surrounded by the Warriors and Druids, they knew they had to do something. Four unmated Warriors agreed to allow the Druids to send them through time to search for Deirdre and Ian.”
“The Druids had the magic to move them through time?” she asked incredulously.
Phelan smiled wryly. “I doona think the evil we fight realize how strong the Druids at the castle truly are. Droughs use their black magic to battle by themselves, and they are strong. However, a group of mies banded together has more magic than a single drough.”
Jason, the bastard, had never told her that. She was learning so much she hadn’t known. All the times they’d clashed in battle Aisley had thought those from MacLeod Castle were just lucky.
Now she knew it was because of their strength and power. It was a sobering thought.
“What happened? Were Ian and Deirdre ever found?”
Phelan’s smile held a wealth of satisfaction. “Oh, aye. Ian came across a Druid searching for the MacLeods. That Druid, Danielle, became his wife.”
“And Deirdre? I know the tales of the terror she’d evoked across the land.” That Aisley wasn’t lying about. Jason had reveled in the stories he’d found of Deirdre. He’d admired her beyond anything.
