Highland Nights

by Donna Grant

Before long he had a good blaze going, and Fiona had taken off her wet garments. She hung them on a boulder to dry and sat watching him. He rubbed the back of his neck.

  "You do that a lot."

  "Do what?" he asked.

  "You either rub your neck or pop it. Why?"

  He shrugged. "Habit I guess. Are you hungry?"

  "Do you have any other habits?" she asked, ignoring his question.

  "Not that I know of. Are you hungry? I've a few things Helen packed for us."

  She waved away the food and huddled closer to the fire. He put away the food. As he began to take off his shirt and vest so they could dry, he noticed her eyes on him.

  A faint smile curved his lips. Maybe she doesn't find me as repulsive as she puts on.

  It was as if she read his thoughts because her eyes jerked to his before turning away. Gregor wouldn't be a cad and rub it in, he probably should, but he didn't feel up to it. He was soaked from the drenching rain, angry that MacNeil had attacked the MacDougal's, and heartsick because he was so close to home.

  The savage his father claimed him to be was at rest this night, and frankly, Gregor wasn't upset about it. He wasn't up to trading barbs with Fiona, and he knew too well her tongue could cut deep, especially after the day she had had.

  The popping of the fire filled the quiet cave as the rain continued to pour. It was going to be a very long night at this rate. At least they made it farther than he had expected. Fiona hadn't slowed him down as he anticipated after seeing the MacDougal's attacked. He wondered when she would grieve for them.

  He raised his eyes and instantly regretted it. The plaid she had draped around her had fallen to reveal the creamy expanse of her shoulder. He swallowed and tried to look away when she rose to her feet.

  Her long shapely legs peeked from the plaid as she checked her clothes, and it was all Gregor could do to stay seated. He cursed silently and fought to bring his body under control.

  His control was legendary, and he would be damned if one woman would break it.

  All thoughts of control evaporated when she squatted down and the plaid parted to expose her thigh.

  Fiona was tired of sitting in the plaid. She wanted her clothes on, but didn't want to risk illness just because Gregor made her uncomfortable.

  A sound, like a grunt, came from his direction, and when she turned to look at him, she was surprised to find his eyes on her. She had seen that look before in a man's eyes and knew what it meant.

  Although she found him pleasing to look upon, he did not attempt to gain her notice like the other men of her clan. She took that to mean he wasn't interested, but Gregor wasn't from her clan.

  That turned her thoughts to Cormag and Helen. She had resolved to stay alone and never give anyone the pleasure of leaving her again. Nonetheless, that is exactly what happened today. She pushed away the tears, not yet ready to face her feelings.

  "Are they dry?" His voice was rough, as if he were having trouble speaking.

  "Not yet," she answered.

  Silence filled the cave again, and after being woken by that horrible dream the night before, she decided to get some rest. Her dreams were prophetic but it hadn't been her clan she had seen destroyed.

  It had been another.

  * * * *

  Moira waited patiently beside Frang, the Druid high priest, outside their sacred stone circle as Aimery walked toward them. Aimery wasn't from this world. He was a Fae who lived where magic ruled.

  She had been waiting for word from him for days now, and her patience was nearing its end. She shifted from one foot to the other while he stopped and conversed with another Druid.

  "Patience is a virtue," Frang whispered and stroked his long white beard.

  "Not today it isn't. I have waited years to have my sisters united." She turned toward the man who had raised her as a daughter and looked into his light blue eyes. "I fear I cannot wait a moment longer."

  "But longer you must wait," Aimery stated as he joined them.

  Her head swiveled to him and her eyes narrowed. "What do you know?"

  Aimery's unusually bright blue eyes, eyes of the Fae, dimmed. " 'Tis much worse than we originally thought. Whoever is aiding MacNeil is using a spell known only to the Fae to hide himself."

  Frang cursed and leaned upon his tall staff.

  She looked from Frang to Aimery. "Tell me what has happened."

  "MacNeil has attacked the MacDougal's," Aimery answered.

  "Did she ... did she ..." Moira couldn't bring herself to ask the question. If MacNeil had captured Fiona then all was lost.

  "My envoy spotted Gregor and Fiona riding away."

  "Thank the saints," she said as relief rushed through her. "I had no wish to tell Glenna that Fiona had been captured or killed."

  "Glenna is enjoying her new marriage. Leave her be with this," Frang said, but he had a knowing smile on his face.

  Moira watched as Frang and Aimery conversed privately, and she couldn't help but compare the two. Frang looked old with his white hair and beard, and when you looked into his eyes he seemed even more ancient. Yet, to look at his face, it was hard to guess his age. At times he looked as young as a youth.

  Aimery on the other hand had to be one of the most handsome creatures she had ever laid eyes on. It was the Fae about him with his glowing blue eyes and long, flaxen hair. His body was perfect, down to the last detail. Though many of the Druid women wanted him, Moira did not.

  There had been one man who had always captured her attention. She turned and found him standing behind her like a statue just as she knew he would be. Far enough away not to hear her words, but close enough to reach her if need be.

  Dartayous. He was a Druid Warrior, one who watched over the Druids, and for as long as she could remember he had been among them.

  She tried once to get close to him, but had ended badly and she had learned her lesson. He had been her first infatuation, her first and only if she were honest with herself.

  Moira had given up on ever thinking she would have a husband and children. Her life was centered on the prophecy. Besides, she was too old for a husband now.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Gregor groaned as more of Fiona's leg appeared outside the plaid. From the tips of her toes to her thigh, her flesh glowed and beckoned in the firelight. 'Twas one of those rare moments he wished he had powers of his own to move the plaid and gain a look at her naked body.

  His body throbbed with a need so strong he nearly shook with it. If she could do this to him just by looking at her, what could she do if their lips ever meet? He really didn't need to worry over that point, because he knew she wouldn't let him near her.

  He put his head in his hands. He had a strong willpower and exerted that over his fast growing desire. Fiona would never know how much she affected him.

  His head jerked up when he heard her moan. By the way she tossed and turned she was about to come out of the carefully wrapped plaid.

  And that would tempt a saint.

  "Ah, hell," he muttered and rose to wake her. His new conscious was making his life pure torture.

  He got within a few paces of her when she suddenly jerked upright. His worry grew when he saw the fine sheen of sweat covering her forehead. It wouldn't do to have her come down with a fever.

  After kneeling in front of her, he reached out his hand to feel her head, but she slapped it away.

  "What are you doing?" she snapped

  "Making sure you aren't ill. You were in wet clothes," he reminded her.

  She rose to her feet with as much dignity as one could have while barely covered in a plaid. "I'm not ill. I just had a ... dream."

  "Do you have them often?" He wasn't sure what made him ask.

  She slowly raised her eyes to his. "A handful over the years. Until recently ..."

  He watched as she thought about her comment, seemingly transfixed about something. Then, she whirled around. "Turn your back while I dress," she said.

  "Of course."r />
  He walked to the horses. Morgane nickered softly and pushed her muzzle at him. He laughed and patted her on the withers.

  "Why don't you tie her?"

  He looked toward the fire and found Fiona dressed. He shrugged at her question. "There's no need."

  "She will leave you the first chance she gets."

  "I have had her since she was a foal. She hasn't left me yet and I seriously doubt that she will."

  "You will be the one walking, not me," Fiona said with a toss of her brown mane.

  He chuckled and gave Morgane another pat before he returned to the fire. "You don't know that horse or the relationship we have. Morgane isn't going anywhere."

  "Morgane? You used a Celtic name for your horse?"

  Gregor rubbed the back of his neck. "Aye." She didn't need to know that he'd picked the name because his sister, Anne, liked it.

  Fiona could only stare at him. Was it just coincidence that he picked a Celtic name for dweller of the sea and her power was over water?

  How many times had Helen told her she would know when she found her mate? How many times had Helen said it would be so obvious to her that she wouldn't question it?

  She put a hand to her forehead. Helen had taught her about the ancient Celts and their way of life as well as the Christianity that now ruled the land. Not many people knew of the Celtic gods anymore?

  Her gaze found Gregor. He was handsome. Very handsome, in fact. The power that radiated from him sent chills down her body. He had been the one man in years that had made her stop and take notice. She hadn't liked being interested in him, but she couldn't help how she felt.

  No one said you had to marry him. Take what pleasure he can give you, and then leave him before he gets the chance to leave you.

  Now that had merit. Helen had constantly talked about the relationship between a man and a woman and how fulfilling it could be.

  Everyone deserves some pleasure. Isn't that what Helen told me?

  Her gaze followed Gregor as he rose and walked to the cave entrance. She liked the way his leather pants hugged his legs, and when he bent over she bit her lip at the view she received.

  Although she wasn't a beauty, she wasn't homely either. Surely he would take her up on an offer. He was a man after all, and all men loved what happened between a man and a woman in bed.

  He had looked at her when the plaid had nearly fallen from her body. And, if she had learned anything from Bridget it was how to entice a man. Surely she would be able to pull it off.

  "The rain has stopped. I think we should go."

  Gregor's words startled her she was so deep in thought. She looked outside and saw the sun setting behind the clouds. "All right."

  "Are you rested?"

  "Aye. Don't worry, I will keep up," she said and began to gather her things.

  "I wasn't worried. You have held up better than any lass I've known. We must travel fast and I don't want to tire you."

  She smiled to herself at his compliment. It wouldn't be hard at all to entice him.

  * * * *

  Fiona began to think of the many ways she could seduce Gregor as they rode through the mountains. She had to have something to think about instead of sliding off the side of the mountain.

  When Gregor pulled up and handed her a piece of bread, she accepted it with a smile. His startled look almost sent her into a fit of laughing. He hadn't expected that, nor would he expect what she had planned next.

  She hummed softly as she ate. Thoughts of exactly how she was going to seduce him filled her mind.

  * * * *

  Gregor shifted in the saddle. Fiona's smile had unsettled him. Why, all of a sudden, had she sent him such a dazzling smile that had lit up her whole face? He thought her pretty, but when he had seen that smile it had transformed her into something so beautiful it hurt his eyes to look upon her.

  Now, every time he turned around to check on her she sent him a smile. What was her plan? And why? He knew women well enough to know she was up to something. Did she think to distract him with her smiles?

  If so, he had to admit it was working. Already he had passed a resting spot he had wanted to stop at. He didn't want to turn around and admit just how she affected him. Instead, they would travel until they next meet the river.

  Hopefully by then he would have more control over himself. Even if it meant he didn't look at her.

  * * * *

  Aimery sighed and rubbed his temples. The fact someone was using Faerie magic to hide themselves from the Fae wasn't good. In fact, it was downright dreadful.

  How was he going to tell his king and queen? He recalled his teaching of the prophecy and all that would occur. Never in all his readings had there been a mention of a rogue Fae. Unless it was in a hidden text.

  That gave him a thought, but he pushed it aside for the moment. He concentrated on Fiona and Gregor. They were traveling and headed away from MacNeil.

  Aimery laughed when he realized where they were. "So very close, Gregor. Will you resist the urge to see your clan?"

  He knew Gregor would. Gregor was predictable when it came to his family but would Fiona allow him to continue on? Now that was something he would love to see. Maybe a visit to them was in order.

  They were so close to fulfilling the prophecy that he could taste it and MacNeil knew it. Just a few more things to put in order and his race and the Druid's would be safe once again.

  And Duncan and Catriona Sinclair's children would be together and happy as they always should have been.

  After he had been fooled and missed the signs about Duncan and Catriona's murder he needed to make it up to them. He mourned the loss of his dear friends, and he would see the wrong put right any way he had to.

  Even if it meant sacrificing himself.

  * * * *

  Gregor spotted the cottage as they crested a hill. The moon, bright and full, in the night sky gave him a clear view of the area.

  The cool summer night breeze brought the smell of fresh cooked bread their way. Before he nudged Morgane forward, he searched the area. As usual in this remote corner there was nothing but rolling hills and the occasional herd of cattle or sheep.

  The jostling of Fiona's bridle reminded him of her presence and the need to reach safety. He clicked to Morgane and quietly made his way to the cottage.

  Instead of the usual greeting he received upon reaching the cottage, an eerie silence filled the air. He held up his hand for Fiona to stop, and he was grateful she did as he asked without question.

  As he dismounted, the hairs on the back of his neck began to tingle, signaling that an attack was imminent. He unsheathed his sword and whirled around, ready for the ambush.

  He spotted the crouched figure in the shadows by the door, and lowered his sword. "You can come out now."

  The shadowy figure rose slowly to his feet. "Gregor? Is that ye, lad?"

  "Aye, 'tis me, Allen."

  "Ye always come alone," Allen said and step from the shadows. "I didn't think 'twas ye."

  Gregor smiled at his old friend. Allen had been around for as long as Gregor could remember, always there when he needed something or someone. Allen's hair was white, or at least what was left of it was white. Old age had stooped his once proud frame, but Gregor could tell Allen could still hold his own if need be.

  "I've brought a woman with me," Gregor began.

  Allen laughed. "About time ye settled down."

  "My job is to bring her to her sisters. She's not for me."

  "That's too bad," Allen said with a loud sigh. "I was hoping ye'd put the past behind ye."

  Gregor had to keep himself from sighing. "She doesn't know who I am and I want to keep it that way."

  "All right, all right. Bring her in. I will make up some tea," Allen said over his shoulder as he shuffled into the house.

  Gregor raised his hand and motioned for Fiona to come. He stood by the door waiting for her, but she stayed atop the horse. "What is it?"

  "I need you to
help me dismount."

  He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. This was the first time she had asked for his help, and he knew she really didn't need it. She was up to something--that was for sure.

  With heavy feet, he took the few steps toward her. He raised his arms, and she slid into them and onto his chest. And much to his chagrin found her mouth inches from his. Her lithe body settled along his with the fit of well-worn boots. And his body reacted instantly to her lush curves.

  "Oh," she huffed and put her hands on his shoulders. "How clumsy of me. I suppose 'tis been the long ride. I didn't realize how tired I am."

  He knew she lied, but it was difficult for him to think with her hands on him. He nodded and set her down, as far away from him as his arms could reach.

  "If I didn't know better, I would say you couldn't stand to be near me," she purred.

  He shook himself and stepped away. He didn't know what her game was, but he was going to find out and soon. "Fiona--"

  "Are you going to bring the lass in or stay out there?" Allen's voice barked from inside the cottage.

  "We'll talk later," he warned before ushering her into the small cottage.

  Fiona couldn't keep the smile from her face. Her attempts were working. She was keeping Gregor off balance, just where she wanted him. It wouldn't take long to make him want her.

  "Come in, come in," said an elderly man. His sun-weathered face was creased with deep lines, but his hazel eyes sparkled with mischief.

  Fiona liked him instantly. "Hello. I'm Fiona MacDougal," she said.

  "Always a pleasure to have a lady grace my home," he said and lifted her hand to his lips. "Call me Allen."

  She gave him a bright smile. "Thank you, Allen. We appreciate you sharing your home with us."

  "Anytime," Allen said and went back to the hearth. "There's fresh bread on the table. Help yerselves while I get the tea."

  Fiona turned toward the table and found Gregor's black eyes intent upon her. She flashed him a smile and a wink, and was pleased to see his forehead crease in confusion.

  She began to cut the bread and offered Gregor a piece. " 'Tis still warm," she said.

  He took the bread, and she couldn't help the laugh that escaped when he went to great lengths not to touch her. "I won't bite you know."