by Donna Grant
He was gorgeous with a magnificent physique that made her mouth water. To be so attracted to him was baffling. He was aloof, cold even, and his emotionless eyes would be off-putting if she hadn’t heard his seductive voice or felt that hard body beneath her palms.
The problem was she had. “I want to know more about Deirdre.”
“Why? So you can copy what she’s done?”
“No,” she said and rolled her eyes. He was always thinking the worst. “I want to know because you can barely stomach to say her name, and the stones think she’s the greatest thing since the invention of whisky.”
Was it her imagination or had there been a hint of a smile upon Malcolm’s lips? By his stoic expression, she had to have imagined it. Which was sad. She’d like to see him smile.
“You’re in a bad place, Druid. Is that no’ enough for you to know?”
She shook her head and got to her feet. Just as she hoped, Malcolm followed her into the bedchamber. She stopped at the wardrobe and looked over her shoulder to find him leaning against the doorway once more.
Damn him for being so good-looking.
Evie flung open the wardrobe and held out her hand to the garments within. “These clothes look pretty recent. How long ago was Deirdre here?”
“She occupied this mountain for a thousand years. In the seventeenth century she jumped forward in time to present day. She was here a few months before she was killed.”
Well. Evie hadn’t expected an answer, but she also recognized there was much more Malcolm wasn’t telling her. “Thank you. The stones say she was betrayed.”
“She was.”
“You know by who?”
His nostrils flared. “I do.”
“Will you tell me?” she asked, frustration edging her words.
“I doona think you really want to know. Deirdre was evil. She sold her soul to Satan to become drough. Is that really someone you want to know?”
Evie softly closed the wardrobe’s doors and faced him. “I don’t want to know because I want to emulate her. I want to know so I can make my own decisions about Deirdre, Cairn Toul, and my future. That isn’t too much to ask.”
It seemed all Evie did was watch for some emotion, some sign that Malcolm felt anything. He was like a wall of stone, immovable and unmoving. What could turn a man so … cold?
Somehow the reason for Malcolm’s animosity against her being in the mountain was in the telling of Deirdre’s story. But would it be enough to make her depart?
“You willna leave no matter what I tell you,” he finally said.
Evie looked around her. To some, the granite might seem impersonal and desolate, but not to her. “You can’t hear them. The stones, that is. They’re alive to me. They whisper of deer on their slopes, of tourists who climb as far up as they dare to take pictures. They will warn me if someone enters. There isn’t another place on this earth I would be as safe.”
“Safe from whoever you think you’re running from. But how protected is your soul?”
She blinked and turned her gaze to him. This was new, but she could see it wasn’t a bluff. He truly believed it. “You think my soul is in danger?”
“Malicious debauchery called this place home for a millennium. What do you think? You think evil that deep, that awful wouldna penetrate the stones and the earth?”
Evie rubbed her hands up and down her arms. Even with her sweater, a chill descended upon her she couldn’t shake. “I couldn’t even begin to answer that. Not without the facts. I’m not asking for anything other than the tale you obviously seem a part of. If you want me gone, the best way to do it is convince me. Start by telling me of Deirdre.”
The seconds ticked by without Malcolm showing any inclination that he’d even heard her. Evie shook her head and started back into the sitting room to return to her computer.
Except Malcolm straightened and blocked the doorway. He didn’t just block it, he filled the entire thing. Evie was reminded again of the strength she felt when she had tried to push against all those chiseled muscles.
She longed to brush back the lock of hair over his forehead. He stood so rigid, so unyielding that he appeared not to need—or want—anyone’s touch. So she kept her hands to herself.
And it was difficult. She longed to run her hands over his chest and wide shoulders to feel his strength and warmth again. That brief instant had been enough to lure her, entice her. Rigid control leashed him, and Evie had a sudden desire to see him break free.
She looked up into unblinking azure eyes and wondered how it would feel to have his lips on hers.
“How long have you known you were a Druid?” he asked.
His question surprised her enough that it took her a second to form a thought. “Since I was old enough to understand what magic was.”
“What do you know of the history of Druids?”
Evie grimaced. “That’s just it. I don’t know anything of Druids other than what my mum taught me before … Well, after that my grandmum took over my teaching, little that it was. I know magic enough to defend myself if need be, but I was always taught never to use magic unless it was absolutely necessary.”
Without a sound, Malcolm turned on his heel and walked into the sitting room. She hastily followed, thinking he was leaving only to find him standing to the side of one of the chairs, his back to her.
Evie lowered herself onto the sofa and let her eyes soak up more of Malcolm Munro. Danger rolled off him in waves, coming nearer and nearer to her, almost daring her to get close to him.
Despite that, she didn’t feel threatened. He set her on edge with his feral attitude and too-sexy body, but it wasn’t enough to force her to use magic on him. Not when all she really wanted to do was pull him down for a kiss and to stroke the hard sinew.
“Druids used to be revered and respected.” Malcolm’s voice filled the small chamber with his silky timber. “They were teachers, healers, and counsel to the clan leaders. It was an honor for a clan to have a Druid in its midst. Every laird did what they had to do to earn the companionship of a Druid.”
Evie settled back against the sofa, eager to hear more.
“Those Druids were the mies. They were content to channel the magic they were born with.”
“There cannot be good without evil,” Evie said, repeating something her grandmother had drilled into her.
Malcolm turned to her. “Aye. Droughs. They are the Druids who wanted more—more power, more strength, more everything. They were able to delve into the forbidden black magic, but it came with a cost. Their souls.”
Evie couldn’t suppress a shudder. “Was there a war between them? Is that what happened to all the Druids?”
“Nay,” he said with a shake of his golden head. “The mies and droughs were always fighting amongst themselves, but they had a shared enemy. Rome.”
“Rome,” Evie whispered as she searched her memories for anything pertaining to Druids and Rome. “Caesar hated the Druids. He had it written that we performed ghastly sacrifices of children and virgins.”
She expected Malcolm to show some kind of emotion that he agreed with her, but his silence was deafening.
“The droughs … did they…” She trailed off, unable to complete the question.
“They did.”
“Bloody hell.”
“Who do you think helped the Celts keep Rome behind Hadrian’s Wall? This land belonged to the Druids as well, and they were no’ going to stand by and do nothing. After years of constant battles, the Celts were running out of men. They were losing hope. So they once more turned to the mies for help.
“The mies had given all they could. But the Celts didna despair. They went to the droughs. Using black magic, the droughs brought up ancient gods long buried in Hell. Those gods filled the bodies of the strongest men who volunteered.”
Evie’s mind swirled with Malcolm’s words. “So Rome didn’t leave because they wanted to step away from territories they couldn’t sustain. They were pushed out.�
��
“Aye. The men became … something else. They didna stop fighting, even when Rome was finally gone. When the droughs tried to pull the gods out of the men, the gods refused to release their hold. It took the combined magic of both mies and droughs to bind the gods. But the gods had the last laugh since they traveled through the bloodline always to the strongest of the line.”
“This seems so far-fetched,” Evie said softly. “So surreal.”
“I doona lie.”
She flinched at the iciness of his words. “I didn’t mean to imply you did, only that I’ve never heard this version before.” After swallowing to wet her dry throat, she asked, “What happened next? I gather this isn’t the end of the story.”
Malcolm’s azure gaze was riveted on her. “There’s more. Are you sure you still want to know?”
“Yes.” But she didn’t sound as sure as she had a few minutes earlier. Maybe it was because Malcolm told the tale as if things were going to get worse.
He crossed his arms over his chest while his muscles bulged with each movement. “The spells to bind and unbind the gods were supposed to have been destroyed. Except they were no’. Deirdre and her twin were raised with their family who were all droughs. Laria was thought to have no magic, but she hid it so she wouldna have to become drough. Deirdre, however, killed her family when she discovered the scroll and the spell to unbind the gods.”
It was like she was watching a thriller movie play out right before her eyes. They might be Evie’s favorite, but this tale had her wanting to cover her eyes and hide beneath a blanket.
“The stones—these stones,” Malcolm said with a jerk of his chin, “called Deirdre to them. Here she set about taking over the world.”
Evie rose and began to pace before the sofa. “There’s no happy ending to this story, is there?”
“The scroll named one clan—MacLeod,” Malcolm continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “For centuries she kidnapped men from the MacLeod clan in the hopes they were the one she searched for. It was only later through her magic she learned it wasn’t one MacLeod she needed to find, but three. Three brothers in fact, who were equally skilled in battle. The god, you see, was split between the three of them.”
Evie stopped and looked at Malcolm. There had been something in his voice when he said the MacLeod name. Almost as if he knew them. Which couldn’t be correct. This happened eons ago. “What happened next? Did Deirdre find the brothers?”
“Aye. She tricked them in order to capture them.”
Evie’s legs gave out as she plopped down on the couch. “Oh, my God. MacLeod. There hasn’t been a MacLeod clan in…”
“Seven hundred years,” he finished for her. “Aye, I know. After Deirdre tricked the brothers, she wiped out the clan. She unbound the god within the brothers, but she didna count on them trying to escape. They got away from her and returned to their burned, ruined castle where they stayed for three hundred years.”
“Is that the end of Deirdre?”
She could have sworn Malcolm mumbled something like, “I wish,” but she couldn’t be sure.
“While the MacLeods were gaining control over their god, Deirdre scoured Scotland for more men who might house gods. But it wasn’t just the gods she searched for. She captured Druids—mies and droughs alike—and killed them in order to take their magic.”
Ice filled Evie’s veins. The more Malcolm told the story, the more she understood why he wanted her out of the mountain. Yet, she wasn’t evil and didn’t want to become evil. That should count for something.
“So there’s no more Druids,” Evie said. “I feared as much.”
“I never said that.”
Her head jerked around. “There are others? I thought I might be the only one.”
His chest expanded as he took a deep breath. “There are others. Over four hundred years ago, a Druid found herself on the brink of death. One of the MacLeods saved her and brought her into the castle. Deirdre attacked the castle to try and gain the Druid, but the brothers held her off. That’s when the MacLeods opened the castle to anyone willing to fight against such evil.”
“Opened the castle,” she repeated with a smile. “Now I know you must be pulling my leg. There’s no MacLeod Castle.”
He dropped his arms and walked to the doorway. As he reached the corridor he paused and said, “There is, Druid. I’ve been there. It’s hidden by one of the many Druids in residence.”
The idea that she wasn’t alone sent hope coursing through her. A smile pulled at her lips as she closed her eyes thinking how she could get Malcolm to take her to the castle.
When she opened her eyes, he was gone. There was still more to the tale, and she would eventually get it all out of him. Until then, she would be content with what she knew.
“I’m not alone. There are other Druids out there. I just have to find them,” she said to herself.
CHAPTER
TEN
MacLeod Castle
Veronica, better known as Ronnie to her friends, tried not to stare at their resident scientist, Britt Miller. From the anxiety running rampant through the castle, Ronnie knew Britt was feeling the pressure.
By her side, as always, was Aiden MacLeod. His parents, Quinn and Marcail, were staying near in case either Britt or Aiden needed them.
Not that any of them could help Britt. She was working on completing an antidote to the drough blood that was adversely affecting Larena.
“The wait is killing me,” Tara leaned over and whispered.
Ronnie nodded in agreement. The entire castle seemed to be holding its breath as it waited to hear if Britt could do it.
A strong hand came to rest on Ronnie’s waist and dragged her back against a rock-hard chest. She leaned against Arran, grateful for him. He knew when she needed him the most. Which was always.
“She’ll do it,” Arran whispered in her ear.
Ronnie looked up into his golden eyes and smiled. If there was one thing she’d learned since coming to the castle, it was that they were one big family. Everyone was there for everyone else.
That’s why they were all waiting for news regarding Larena. Fallon had taken her off to their chamber until Britt had news. That had been days ago.
Only Fallon emerged for food, and each time his face grew grimmer and grimmer. His brothers, Quinn and Lucan and their wives Marcail and Cara, were making sure anything Larena wanted was seen to.
Britt lifted her blond head and let out a long sigh from looking under the microscope. It was then she noticed the room full of people.
“Nothing like pressure,” she teased with a lighthearted laugh.
Aiden rubbed her lower back in slow circles. “They’re just anxious.”
Marcail, looking as young as Britt thanks to Isla’s shield over the castle that kept it hidden and those within from aging, handed Britt a tall glass of iced tea.
Gwynn, a native Texan who had found love with Logan, raised her own glass of sweet tea at Britt. The women exchanged a laugh before drinking.
Ronnie saw Tara wrinkle her nose. Tara didn’t understand the cold sweet tea thing, but Gwynn assured her it was an American thing. Just like lemonade that didn’t fizz. It just seemed absurd to Tara and the rest of those from Scotland.
“I feel so useless,” Danielle said into the silence.
After draining about half the glass, Britt set it aside. “There’s nothing any of you can do. I’m working as fast as I can, but I want to make sure I do it right.”
“We know,” Saffron said.
Ronnie still felt like she needed to pinch herself to be in a place with so many amazing Druids and Warriors who risked their lives to end first Deirdre then Declan, and now Jason.
“Malcolm should be here,” Marcail said. “Larena needs him.”
Gwynn ran a finger over the condensation on her glass. “Logan and Ramsey will return soon from Ferness. Hopefully Charon and Phelan have an idea of how we can get Malcolm here.”
“But he knows,” Ai
den said. “He knows about Larena and he isna here.”
Camdyn said, “Everything Malcolm has done has been for Larena. If he’s no’ here, it’s because he needs to be elsewhere. There are some things only time can heal.”
“And some that can never be healed,” Quinn said.
No one responded because they all had seen firsthand how close to the edge of losing it all Malcolm had been. The only good thing was that Larena was battling her own goddess and so didn’t realize everything else that was going on.
“We’ll get through this,” Ronnie said. “All of us. We have to.”
Too many centuries had passed, too many lives lost, too much blood spilled for those at the castle to lose now.
Arran’s fingers entwined with hers. He gave her a squeeze. It was all she needed to face the rest of the day.
* * *
Malcolm returned from hunting with a pheasant. As far as he’d seen, there was no food in the mountain. The Druid could use her magic, but if she had told him the truth, she didn’t use magic unless she had to.
He stripped the bird of its feathers and made his way to the Druid’s chambers. Her magic was mixing with that of the mountains, and he wasn’t sure he liked it. He felt her everywhere, in everything.
In a very short amount of time.
He stopped at the entrance of her chamber. It took him a moment of shifting through the magic surrounding him to realize that though he felt her, she wasn’t in the room.
Malcolm dropped the bird before he closed his eyes and focused on her magic. His eyes snapped open when he realized where she was.
He used his unnatural speed to rush through the mountain, downward to where he’d hoped to keep her from going. The closer he got, the stronger her magic pulsed against his skin.
With a low growl, he shoved aside the arousal he felt and ran faster. He turned the corner and came to a halt just inside the room.
Only once before had he come this close to the hated room. Even now he could feel the hundreds—the thousands—of Druids who had been murdered for their magic.
He clenched his fists in an effort not to be taken down by the lingering terror from the souls who had died upon the large table in the center of the room.