Heart of the Druid Laird

by Barbara Longley

  “I can hide the human from him easily enough. I’ve managed to do so up until now.”

  Eithne shook her head.

  “Leave me now. Your cluck-cluck clucking is ruining my appetite.”

  Sidney stared out her window as they approached the medieval castle. Silhouetted by the twilight it loomed before her, complete with turrets and a ditch moat. “My God, you really do live in a castle, a castle with its own landing strip and hangar. Talk about juxtaposition.”

  Their vehicle crossed a stone arch bridge with a gatehouse on one side and drove around the circular driveway, stopping in front of the castle’s grand double doors. The second SUV carrying the rest of the men pulled up behind them.

  Dermot got out and came to help her, holding her cane until she stood on the ground. “Come, let’s get you inside. The men will be waiting to meet you.”

  Sidney’s head throbbed and she was exhausted. She didn’t feel up to facing a group of strange men. After the jet had almost gone down in the ocean, she hadn’t been able to sleep for the remainder of their flight.

  The cold wind sent her huddling deeper into her parka. Stark, rugged landscape surrounded the imposing castle. For a moment she lost herself in images of Dermot clad in a kilt with a broad sword hanging down his back. He belonged here. She didn’t.

  The crunch of gravel from the other SUV approaching brought her back to the present. She glanced at the men as they got out of the vehicle. “How many men are there, Dermot?”

  “Eight, besides myself and the four you’ve already met.”

  “Thirteen, and all of you are…”

  “All of us are immortal.” Thomas came up beside her. “Welcome to our humble abode, Sidney.”

  Dermot placed his hand on her shoulder to hold her back as Thomas and Donald went on ahead. “You’ve no need to be nervous, lass. Everyone is grateful you’re here. You’ll also meet Mrs. Haldane, our housekeeper. If there’s anything you need, or if you have any requests for the kitchen staff, she’s the one to talk to.”

  She stared at him. “Kitchen staff? How many people do you employ?” She surveyed the extensive grounds surrounding the castle.

  “We have groundskeepers, cleaning and kitchen staff. Mr. and Mrs. Haldane, trainers and grooms for the horses, farmers and sheepherders. I can’t really say how many we employ at present. I’d have to sit down and count them.”

  “Do they all know?”

  “Only the most trusted members of our clan who work close to us know. The rest are from the village of Gairloch. Mrs. Haldane is a MacKay by birth and distantly related to me and Thomas. Her ancestors have served us in one capacity or another since the curse began. There are families like hers who maintain our properties and businesses all over the world.” He shrugged. “They’re well compensated.”

  The thought of owning so much seemed outrageous. Her store, and maybe a house someday was more than enough for her. “Do you plan to keep all of it once the curse is lifted? You won’t need to move around so much anymore.”

  Niall frowned as he joined them. His arms were full of luggage. “You haven’t told her—”

  “No’ now, Niall,” Dermot replied tersely.

  “What haven’t you told me?” She glanced at Niall to find him staring at her with a pensive expression that made her uneasy.

  He hustled her up the stairs and into the castle without answering, and she let it go for the time being. Her surroundings claimed all of her attention. She stood on a starburst pattern of inlaid marble under a huge crystal chandelier. A double staircase of marble with elaborate millwork banisters topped with mahogany flanked both sides of the large foyer. The remaining eight men stared down at her from the gallery at the top. Sidney’s heart raced, and her palms started to sweat.

  “It’s all right,” Dermot whispered as he helped her out of her coat.

  “We’re home.” Thomas put his arm around her shoulders and presented her to the men. “Guess who this is?”

  She found herself surrounded by Dermot’s men, all introducing themselves at once. They thanked her profusely for coming while reaching for her hands and calling her milady.

  “I thought she’d be a babe,” one of them muttered under his breath.

  Thomas laughed. “She is a babe.” He winked at her. “Just not a bairn.”

  “Oy, give the lass some breathing room,” a feminine voice commanded.

  The men parted to reveal a middle-aged woman with sparkling blue eyes. She bore a striking resemblance to Thomas as she smiled and introduced herself as the housekeeper. “Welcome home. Everything is arranged as you requested. Our guest’s suite of rooms is ready, and I’ve had her bag brought up.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Haldane,” Dermot said.

  Sidney looked at Dermot. “Rooms? I get more than one?” Her shabby duffel bag amidst all this opulence embarrassed her. She should’ve taken the time to retrieve her luggage before they’d left.

  “Aye, you have a suite.” Dermot extricated her from his men and put his arm around her. “Would you like a tour of the castle first, or would you prefer to get settled in and relax a bit before dinner?”

  Dermot’s men looked at her as if they knew her, and she alone held their fate in her hands. Unnerved, she moved a bit closer to Dermot’s side. “I’d really like to get settled first. I could use a nap. What time would it be in Minnesota now?”

  Dermot glanced at his watch. “It’s 5:00 p.m. here, lass. It’s best if you start going by our time right away. It’s easier to get over jet lag that way.”

  “Dinner is served at 7:00,” Mrs. Haldane said. “Shall I show Ms. St. George to her rooms?”

  “Nay, I’ll take her.” Dermot moved his hand to the small of Sidney’s back. “Tomorrow morning we’ll have the grand tour right after breakfast.”

  “Ah, begging your pardon, Laird.” One of the men stepped forward and bowed to Sidney. “I’m Duncan, milady.” He turned toward Dermot. “I’ve taken the liberty of arranging a meeting with the solicitors first thing tomorrow morning. There are things we need to discuss, signatures and such, things you’ll want to attend to before—”

  “Thank you, Duncan.” Dermot cut him off.

  She watched a wordless look pass amongst the men as if they communicated telepathically. Very odd. What did the look mean? Her nerves frayed, she glanced at Dermot, hoping he’d get the message and take her to her rooms.

  “We’ll take our tour in the afternoon, then. Come, Sidney.”

  Grateful, Sidney allowed him to help her up the stairs and down a long corridor. “How old is this place, anyway?”

  “The original castle was built by the Sutherlands in the thirteenth century. We gained possession in the fifteenth, and I’ve held it ever since. I’ve put considerable effort into the upkeep, and we’ve modernized several times.” He stopped in front of a large oak door. “Here we are. You’re in one of the turret suites. I thought you might enjoy it.” He opened the door and gestured for her to precede him.

  She walked into the room and her jaw dropped. Polished oak floors and wainscoting reflected the warm golden light from the cheery fire burning in a stone hearth. The room was round, with tall beveled windows and thick Persian rugs scattered here and there. “Oh, my God. This is really something.” A huge four-poster bed draped with burgundy velvet curtains took up most of the chamber. She turned to grin at him. “I feel like I’ve stepped back into the sixteenth century.”

  “I’m glad you’re pleased. Come, there’s more.” He gestured to the arched entryway into another room set off from the turret.

  Sidney was awed by her surroundings. The entryway led into a sitting room with a large flat-screen television, a suede couch and end tables. Dermot continued on, opening another door at the end of the room.

  “There’s a private bath.” He moved to the side so she could enter.

  Dermot’s nearness made her stomach flutter. He placed his hands on her shoulders and stood close behind her as she surveyed the luxurious granit
e tub and counter. The bathroom was almost as large as her bedroom at home.

  “The closet and dressing room are through here.” He pointed to a set of French doors.

  “I’ve seen enough. I’m feeling a little overwhelmed right now, and I’d really like to relax for a while. You, the curse, thirteen immortal men relying on me to end it, and now this castle. It’s a lot to absorb.”

  “I understand. Come, have a seat by the fire. You should give that ankle a rest.”

  “My ankle is fine.” The longing to be comforted in his arms chipped away at her resolve to keep her distance, and the effort made her head spin.

  “I’ve taken the liberty of having a bottle of wine brought up. Would you care for a glass? It’s a Bordeaux from one of our vineyards in France.”

  Of course the wine was from a vineyard he owned. That’s it. I’ve fallen into some kind of romance novel. The whole scenario is far too bizarre to be real. “A glass of wine would be very welcome, and sitting by the fire sounds great.”

  The moment the words left her mouth, she remembered the huge bed taking up most of the room. Her pulse raced, and a surge of warmth spiraled through her. Now was not the time to get all hot and bothered just because the ambiance of the place practically screamed romance. She tried to muster her willpower. “Or…”

  His eyes turned a darker shade of gray. “Aye, by the fire is perfect.”

  “Dermot…”

  He drew her into his arms, and his mouth covered hers in a tender kiss. She moaned with pleasure and melted into him, her words of protest forgotten. Being held by him was exactly what she needed. She opened her mouth, and his kiss deepened, sending desire pulsing through her veins.

  “Let me share your bed tonight,” Dermot whispered into her ear. He ran his hands up and down her back. “Knowing you’re so close and not being with you is a torture too great to bear.”

  “What about protecting me from you?” She forced herself to back out of his hold. “As I recall, you have nothing to offer.”

  His expression grim, Dermot raked both hands through his hair. His gaze burned into hers. He said nothing, while the muscles in his jaw ticked away the seconds.

  “I think it would be best if you left.” She was too exhausted and overwhelmed to deal with his ambivalence.

  Dermot muttered in Gaelic, threw her a look of utter frustration and strode toward the door leading to the hall. “I’ll send someone to fetch you for dinner.”

  She stared after him for a moment, and then went in search of the wine. Kissing him had been a mistake. They’d agreed to a truce, nothing more. Until he knew for certain what he wanted, she had to protect her heart. She found the wine and poured herself a glass. Letting out a long sigh, she headed toward the bathroom for a long, hot bath. Maybe it would help calm her tattered nerves.

  Breakfast, like dinner the night before, had been an ordeal. Twelve men rose to standing when she entered the room, bowing and calling her milady—it all made her nervous and self-conscious. The wordless looks they shared whenever she brought up the curse had been disconcerting. On top of everything else, Dermot’s absence from both meals only added to her misery. No doubt he still pouted somewhere because she refused to fall into bed with him.

  When he failed to come for her by late afternoon, Sidney decided to take a tour of the castle on her own. It was like having free access to an extraordinary private museum. Antique weaponry, suits of armor, Flemish tapestries and rare works of art hung on the walls. Priceless pieces of furniture from several eras graced formal sitting rooms. She even discovered a ballroom with inlaid parquet floors and a frescoed ceiling.

  Still a bit jet-lagged, she headed for the dining hall in search of coffee. Lachlan sat at the table with a cup of tea and a newspaper.

  He stood when she entered. “Sidney, can I help you find something?”

  “Sit. I can’t tell you how weird it is that you all stand when you see me.” She raised an eyebrow. “And I wish you’d tell the rest of the men to stop calling me milady.”

  He grinned. “It’s habit. Would you like a cup of tea? There’s a fresh pot on the sideboard.”

  “I don’t suppose there’s coffee? I’d really love a cup.”

  “Aye, in the urn. Help yourself, and there are biscuits, bread and cheese as well. Mrs. Haldane knows we have huge appetites, and she always keeps something for us on the sideboard. I see you’re without your cane today. I hope this means your ankle is on the mend.”

  “It is, thanks. I’m managing with just the walking cast now.” She helped herself to coffee and cream. “Where is everybody?”

  “Working. We all have quite a bit to attend to this week. We have businesses and investments all over the globe. One wing of the castle is set up with offices. Each of us has our own job, depending on our interests.”

  “No, he didn’t tell me. Can I ask you something?”

  “Of course.”

  “You speak Gaelic, right?”

  He winked. “Like a native.”

  “Can you tell me what a few words mean?” She took a seat across from him. “Weesht, and gly-kit bee-sum for instance.”

  “Strictly speaking, that’s no’ Gaelic.” Lachlan laughed. “Are you certain you wish to know?”

  She nodded.

  “Dermot was telling you to be quiet.”

  “Oh.” She frowned.

  “Och, lass, you must have put him in a fine fankle. Did he use those words while you were at your summer home?”

  “He did. What’s a fankle? That’s another word he used.”

  “You gave him fits.” He grinned.

  “What about mo ah num and mo cree? What do they mean?”

  “Ah, that was Thomas wasn’t it, talking to Zoe?”

  “No, Dermot used them.” She shrugged. “Why?”

  Lachlan’s eyes widened for an instant. “Mo anam means ‘my soul,’ or ‘the very air I breathe.’ Mo cridhe means ‘my heart.’ They’re terms of endearment.”

  She blinked in surprise, and her cheeks grew hot. “Oh. Do you know where Dermot is? He said he’d give me a tour of the castle this afternoon, and I haven’t seen hide-nor-hair of him.”

  “I expect he’s holed up in his stillroom.”

  “Where’s that?”

  “In the eastern turret on the second floor.” Lachlan pointed behind him with his thumb. “There’s a stairway beyond the dining hall. It leads to a back corridor that’ll take you right to his door.”

  Sidney got up to study the stone stairs beyond the arched entry. “My God. These must be ancient.”

  “They hark back to when this pile was originally built.” Lachlan watched her return to the table.

  “Dermot told me the MacKays gained possession in the fifteenth century.”

  “Aye, we laid siege. It was held then by the Sutherlands. They’re the clan that caused us to be cursed. Over the centuries we’ve taken all the land they once owned. We ruined them.” Smug satisfaction lit his face.

  “Wow, the history you’ve all seen and lived through. It’s staggering.” She shook her head. “I don’t really know much about what happened, or why you were cursed. Would you tell me?”

  “Dermot has no’ shared the story with you?” Lachlan’s brow furrowed.

  “No. I read a little about the legend in a book. It didn’t mention a curse or immortality, only that your clan went on a rampage after his wife’s murder and were never defeated in battle. Dermot hasn’t said much other than I’m crucial to ending it.”

  “Aye, that you are. I can tell you the tale.”

  For the next hour, Sidney drank coffee and listened transfixed as Lachlan told her Dermot and Mairéad’s story. When he talked about Áine and the Tuatha Dé Danann, a niggling suspicion turned to certainty. She’d wondered about the faerie’s interest in all this, and now she knew. Her nightmare apparition and Mairéad’s mother were one and the same. “I think Áine has visited me.”

  Lachlan’s expression turned to alarm. “When?”r />
  “Just before all of you came to our store. I thought it was a dream, until she burned one of my sketches, and there was ash left behind on the floor.”

  “Have you told Dermot?”

  “No. I haven’t had the chance, and there’s no point now.” She shrugged. “I’m here.”

  “All the same, I think you should tell him.”

  “I will. Dermot told me he didn’t love Mairéad. He said the killing rampage following her murder was a message to other clans who might see the MacKays as weak. Is that true?”

  Lachlan looked thoughtful. “As to Dermot’s feelings for his wife, they were hardly together long enough for him to know his own heart where she was concerned. She adored him, and perhaps that was part of the problem. Neither knew how to behave around the other. Mairéad was so ill at ease, she took on a persona she believed would please him. She never let him see who she really was.

  “You must understand, lass. Dermot was raised in isolation amongst ascetics and warriors. He never knew a mother’s love, or a sister’s affection. He never played games with children his own age. Those early years shaped him. He had no idea how to get on with his wife.” He shrugged. “Even after more than sixteen hundred years with us, he still remains aloof.”

  “It’s tragic. No wonder he seems so lonely.” Sidney placed her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her fists. “None of you are to blame for what happened. It’s not fair that all of you suffered the brunt of Áine’s rage and grief.”

  “Fair is no’ a word oft associated with the Tuatha Dé Danann.” He studied the contents of his teacup. “They have their own code of ethics, and mortals are inconsequential to them. After all this time, Áine still harbors the grudge as if her loss has only just happened.” He looked into her eyes. “She lost one daughter. We’ve suffered nothing but loss since that day. Has Dermot told you what will occur once the curse is lifted?”

  “He said we must return to the exact place of the murder, and that he doesn’t know what will happen once we’re there.” She smiled. “I told him he should go on a long vacation and learn to enjoy himself once it’s all over.” Rising from her place, Sidney noticed the intensity of Lachlan’s expression. “What is it, Lachlan? There’s something you haven’t told me, isn’t there?”