Dangerous Highlander ds-1

by Donna Grant

  “No foreplay, William. I need you. Now.”

  He guided the tip of his cock to her entrance and plunged inside her. She moaned and closed her eyes as she pictured her Warrior thrusting inside her instead of William.

  It wouldn’t be long now. She would have him back where he belonged.

  * * *

  The return to the castle was in silence. Lucan had known bringing Cara to the village was a mistake, but she had said she needed to see it. He had seen the look of guilt in her gaze as she stared at the dead. Nay, she would have been better not seeing the village.

  Fallon sorted the weapons, looking for several to arm Cara with. Lucan had already found her a sword, which he sharpened before the fire.

  He glanced at Cara, who sat next to him altering a gown. She hadn’t said a word since arriving from the village. He was acutely—and painfully—aware of her nearness. Even being the few feet apart that they were, he felt every breath, heard every beat of her heart.

  Lucan wanted to pull her into his arms, to taste her lips again. His body throbbed from the all-too-brief kiss. He closed his eyes as he remembered the way her body had swayed against his, how her nails had scraped his scalp as she threaded her fingers in his hair.

  But most of all, he recalled her little sigh of pleasure.

  He should never have kissed her, never have given in to the temptation to touch her, but it had been too much. Now that he had a taste of her, he wanted more. Needed more. It was all he could think about.

  In the middle of a village with the dead lying around him, all he wanted to do was have Cara’s soft body against his again, her slender arms wrapped around his neck while his fingers learned every contour of her skin.

  Lucan drew in a ragged breath and shifted in the chair to ease the ache of his cock. His balls tightened when Cara licked her lips and glanced at him. He barely held back his moan.

  He had thought having a god inside him was torture. It was nothing compared to the hunger for the stunning woman beside him. With her in his life, in his home, he was in a different kind of hell. A hell that was altogether worse than anything he could ever have imagined.

  Because you’ve never wanted anything so desperately before.

  That was the truth. There had been women in his clan who had caught his eye. Once he had set out to have a woman, he charmed her until she was his.

  Cara, however, was different. She wasn’t some simple lass. She was embroiled in the middle of a magical war, pitting Warriors against Warriors, with the most evil of beings trying to capture her.

  Instead of hiding in the corner with her hands over her ears while she screamed in denial, she sat beside him sewing as if her world hadn’t been turned upside down.

  The problem was Lucan could see her in his life. He could imagine pulling her close at night and waking with her in the morning. He could imagine sitting before the hearth after supper and talking of the future.

  And he would pursue Cara diligently. If he weren’t a monster. As it was, he had nothing to offer her.

  Lucan moved the sharpening stone over the sword’s blade several times in quick succession. He put all his focus on the weapon, ignoring the cravings of his body and Cara’s soft flesh. Over and over he moved the stone along the sword. He tested the blade against his skin. The barest touch of the weapon caused blood to well on the tip of his finger.

  “Immortal or not, be careful.”

  He looked at Cara to find her watching him, the needle paused in her fingers. “I willna die from a wound.”

  She lowered her hands to her lap, the altering forgotten. “Are you saying you cannot die at all?”

  “Nay. We can die.”

  “How?”

  “Beheading.”

  Her eyes widened. “How do you know this?”

  Lucan lifted the sword’s blade straight up in the air. He inspected the weapon for a moment before he reached for a cloth and cleaned the sword. “I know because Deirdre told us. We were daft with anger and fear, but I heard that part of her speech.”

  “Did she say more?”

  “Aye.”

  “And you didn’t listen?” Cara’s voice had risen with every word, her face incredulous.

  Lucan bit back a grin. He didn’t think she would appreciate him laughing at her outrage. “I tried. I heard that part of it at least.”

  “There may have been something else of importance.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. Regardless, it doesn’t matter.”

  Her brow furrowed and her lips flattened as she turned her head to the flames.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  Cara’s dark gaze met his. “How did Deirdre know where I was?”

  “I wish I knew. Could someone in the village have told her?”

  “It’s a possibility, but I don’t think so. I’ve told no one how my parents died, and no one knows where I came from. How would any of them have known I was the one Deirdre wanted?”

  “Good question,” Quinn said as he strode up. “One I’ve been mulling over.”

  Lucan raised his brows. “Did you find the answer?”

  “Nay, but it got me thinking. How did Deirdre know about us? How did she know we were the ones with the god inside us?”

  Lucan squeezed his eyes shut and cursed. “We’ve kept ourselves separate from the world, but in doing so I believe we let opportunities for knowledge pass us by.”

  Fallon snorted as he moved unsteadily from the table to the hearth, a bottle of wine in his hand. “That’s horse shite, and you know it. Deirdre knows all of this because of her use of black magic.”

  “If that was the case,” Lucan said, “she would have imprisoned us again.”

  Quinn shifted from one foot to the other. “I doona think it’s her magic that led Deirdre to Cara, though I do believe magic was involved.”

  “That makes no sense,” Cara said, and returned to her sewing.

  Lucan had to agree with her. “Explain, Quinn.”

  “We all know that Deirdre is powerful, but how powerful? What if her magic has limits? As Fallon said, if Deirdre was that powerful, she could have captured us again.”

  Fallon’s eyes narrowed. “Meaning she isn’t all-powerful as she led us to believe?”

  “Exactly.”

  Lucan shook his head. “I saw for myself the power Deirdre had. Even with the gods inside us, we cannot defeat her. Neither of you could have forgotten her show of power when she took us.”

  There was a pause, and Lucan knew his brothers were reliving the moment Deirdre had called up the black magic and the sheer force that had surrounded her. Her power had only grown in the three hundred years.

  “What if she wasn’t able to find Cara until now because something changed?” Quinn asked.

  Lucan set aside the sword and crossed his arms over his chest. Once Quinn had spoken, he couldn’t help but wonder if his little brother was right. “Cara, did anything dramatic happen lately?”

  She lifted a dark brow but didn’t raise her gaze from her sewing. “Not unless you consider me pledging myself to God and the nuns significant.”

  Lucan could only gape at her. “You were going to become a nun?”

  “Aye,” she replied, and bent her head closer to the fabric in her hands.

  No other explanation, no reason. She was a beautiful woman who, he had no doubt, had men lusting after her. “Why?”

  She blew out a breath and raised her gaze to him. “Because of what killed my parents. Because the only place I felt safe at night was in the nunnery. I wasn’t a MacClure. I wasn’t part of their clan. I needed to belong somewhere.”

  Her voice broke at the end and Lucan found he wanted to go to her, to draw her into his arms and shoulder her worries for her.

  Lucan found it hard to breathe. Her mahogany gaze held such a wealth of regret and trepidation and resolve that he wanted to be the man who could change her life. He wanted her to turn to him when she was in need. He wanted her to want him with the same primal pas
sion that burned his veins.

  He forced his gaze away before he did something foolish like taking her in his arms again. His hunger for her was so fierce, so intoxicating, that he had to grip the arms of his chair to keep from reaching out to her.

  When he found Fallon staring at him with a knowing look, Lucan knew he hadn’t kept his desire a secret. He was relatively sure Fallon had witnessed the kiss that morning.

  Lucan could only imagine what his elder brother would say to him. Fallon would argue that there was no place for Cara in their lives. And he would be correct.

  Fallon would argue that Cara was mortal and they were immortal. Again he would be correct.

  Fallon would argue that if Lucan ever lost control of the god, he could very well kill Cara. Correct, again.

  But for all the arguments, Lucan couldn’t stop the hunger inside him. He was like a starved man around Cara, and she the feast.

  “We all need to belong somewhere,” Fallon said to break the growing silence. “We’re all just surprised that a woman of your beauty would choose to be a nun.”

  Lucan bit his tongue to keep from lashing out at his brother for calling Cara beautiful. She was beauty personified, but the fact that Fallon had noticed—and commented—told Lucan Fallon might be as affected by the same hunger that ate at him.

  And there was no way Lucan was going to share Cara with anyone—even his brother.

  Fallon rolled his eyes, as if he could read Lucan’s mind. Easy, Brother, he mouthed.

  Lucan glanced at Cara, but she was once more staring at her sewing. Quinn stood with his shoulder propped against the hearth, his face twisting in anger with each heartbeat.

  “There has to be something!” Quinn bellowed to Cara. “Don’t just sit there as if you don’t care that a woman more evil than Satan himself is after you.”

  Lucan rose and put himself between Quinn and Cara. His nails extended into claws and he let his eyes turn black. It had been a long time since they had fought, but Lucan wasn’t going to let Quinn take his anger out on Cara.

  A soft hand touched his shoulder. “It’s all right,” Cara said. “Quinn is right.”

  Lucan glared at Quinn, daring him to make a move toward her.

  “Did last night make you recall what it was like to let the god out?” Quinn taunted Lucan. “If you’re looking for a fight, look no farther.”

  Fallon slammed the palm of his hand against the stones. “Enough!” he bellowed. “Quinn, control your anger. Lucan, get ahold of your . . . self.”

  Lucan knew he had been about to say “feelings.” Grateful that Fallon hadn’t let Cara know how much she affected Lucan, he gave a small nod.

  When Lucan turned around, Cara stood in front of him. “Has anything happened recently?” he asked her.

  “It is my eighteenth year.” She paused and licked her lips. “But I think it might be the spring equinox.”

  Lucan jerked. He looked at Fallon first, then Quinn, to find his brothers were as shaken as he. Had hiding away in the castle, refusing to live in the world, thereby forgetting everything about it, helped them to erase the fact that their clan was destroyed on the spring equinox?

  “What is it?” Cara asked. “Why do all three of you go pale?”

  Lucan sank back into his chair. “Because the spring equinox was the day our clan was killed.”

  “Butchered,” Quinn corrected.

  Fallon ran a hand down his face. “How could we have forgotten?”

  “I don’t think it’s mere coincidence,” Lucan said. “Deirdre must be using the equinox to strengthen her black magic. Somehow, it’s directing her to the people she seeks.”

  Quinn pushed away from the hearth to pace. “Shite. This isna good.”

  “How many of there are you now?” Cara asked. “You said there were two Warriors here last night. Does she have more?”

  Lucan shrugged. “I do remember her telling us we were the first.”

  “She’s had over three hundred years,” Fallon said. “I can only guess at the number she has gathered.”

  Quinn snorted derisively. “And they’ll be attacking us.”

  Cara shook out the gown she had been altering. “Surely some of them refused as you three did.”

  “Possibly,” Lucan admitted. “I couldn’t begin to know where to look to find them, though.”

  “Do you know any of the families of the original Warriors?”

  “Nay,” Fallon answered. “Neither did Deirdre. It was something she searched for. She had hoped we would be able to tell her a few names, but of course we couldn’t. We didn’t know anything.”

  Quinn stalked out of the great hall. “I’m going to check around the castle,” he called over his shoulder.

  “I don’t believe they’ll attack tonight,” Lucan said. “I suspect Deirdre will spend a day or two gathering her forces to descend upon us. She wants Cara, but she’ll also try to take us three as well.”

  Cara’s dark eyes fastened on him. “What do we do until then?”

  He reached for the sword he had found for her. “Until then, you learn how to wield a blade.”

  “In a day?” she asked with a startled laugh. “I’ll be lucky to be able to point it at anything.”

  Lucan grinned. “I’ll make sure you do more than point it. Ready to begin your training?”

  “Let me change first. Quinn will be relieved to see me out of his wife’s gown.”

  Lucan watched her race up the stairs, her skirts lifted high enough that he caught a glimpse of her ankle. He swallowed back a moan when his gaze landed on her hips as they swayed gently with each step she took.

  “Be careful,” Fallon said.

  Lucan looked at his brother. “About what?”

  Fallon gave him a bored look. “Don’t play dense with me, Lucan. I saw you kiss her this morning.”

  “It was just a kiss.” Lucan hoped saying the words out loud would make them true.

  “It was more than a kiss. I saw the way you’ve looked at her since the moment you brought her into the castle. Just remember what we are. We aren’t meant for women like her. We aren’t meant for anyone.”

  Lucan didn’t want to believe, but he knew Fallon spoke the truth. “She trusts me. Do you know how long it’s been since a woman has looked at me? Since I’ve held a woman in my arms, felt her hair in my fingers? Can you even recall the sweet smell of a woman, the soft skin of her neck behind her ear, or the way a woman moans when she peaks?”

  “Nay,” Fallon bit out. “I don’t remember any of those things, and it’s better that way. It doesn’t do anyone any good to want something they cannot have.”

  “We all want something we cannot have, Fallon. The object is different for everyone, whether they are Warriors or mortals.”

  Fallon’s face was lined with weariness and fatigue. “She’s a good woman, Lucan. A mortal who will die while we live on. Don’t promise her something you canna give her.”

  And that was the crux of the matter. Lucan wanted to promise her anything and everything. Just so long as she stayed with him always.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Lucan waited in the bailey for Cara. The sun was high in the cloudless sky, the wind brisk from the sea. It had been days like this that he had ridden his favorite steed from the castle and raced over the land, the ground flying beneath his mount’s hooves.

  How innocent Lucan had been then, thinking of the next girl he would tup and wondering what ruse he would play on Quinn. The days had seemed endless, Lucan’s future stretched before him like the stars in the night sky.

  He caught a whiff of heather and swung around to find Cara watching him, her gaze pensive, as if she had known his thoughts. She smiled shyly and walked down the castle steps to stand before him.

  “You were deep in thought.”

  Lucan shrugged. “Just remembering my life before, when things had been simpler.”

  “Did you have a good life?”

  “Oh, aye. I did.”

  “I
can imagine your mother had her hands full with three boys.”

  He looked to the battlements near the gate house where his mother used to stand, waiting for her husband and sons to return. “She was an amazing woman.”

  Lucan blinked and held out the sword hilt first. “Ready to begin your lessons?”

  “I’m not sure,” she said as she slowly grasped the pommel of the sword.

  The weapon was small, the blade several inches shorter than a man’s sword, but it was balanced and handled well. It was most likely made for a young lad, which would serve Cara flawlessly. She wouldn’t be able to swing a man’s sword, but she had a good chance with the one Lucan had found.

  “You want to grip your weapon tight, but not too tight,” he said, and demonstrated. Once she held the sword properly he said, “Now swing it around you; learn the weight of it, how it moves through the air. You need to trust your sword, let it become an extension of your arm.”

  She was a quick learner and readily did as he instructed. He saw her hesitation, though, as she was uncertain of her own abilities.

  “Good,” he said with a nod. “Can you feel the difference in the sword at different angles?”

  She nodded, gazing at the blade. “Aye, I do. The force of the sword when I swing down is immense.”

  “Exactly. If you have the advantage over your opponent, a swing down will leave him cleaved in two. The only problem is that you can leave yourself vulnerable when you raise your sword over your head.”

  “I understand wanting to arm me against mortal men, but it’s pointless against other Warriors like you and Deirdre’s wyrann.”

  “It isn’t,” Lucan said. “Deirdre’s pets can be killed. They are small like a child and they are quick, but they can easily be outsmarted.”

  “I can do that.”

  He grinned at her words. “You willna be fighting Highlanders with swords. You’ll be fighting nasty wee creatures that have foul breath and a scream that can make your ears bleed. Keep them at a distance with your sword. Here, let me show you.”

  Lucan moved behind her and grabbed each of her arms in his hands. His chest fit against her back, his throbbing rod into her soft backside. He wanted to caress down her arms and cup her breasts as he leaned against her, her soft sighs filling the air.