Dangerous Highlander ds-1

by Donna Grant

  Cara licked her lips. “Everything is just right.”

  “Need some help getting dressed?” His eyes darkened with desire.

  If she didn’t dress now, they would never leave, and she knew how much Lucan wanted to return to the castle. She shook her head and reached for a stocking. “Not this time.”

  Lucan leaned against a tree, his arms crossed over his chest, watching her when she turned around from dressing. “Women wear too many clothes.”

  “I could say the same as you. Highlanders now wear kilts.”

  He shrugged one shoulder. “I might have to get one. It would make it easier to get to you when I wanted to make love.”

  A warm heat stole over her body. “So you will take me again?”

  “I will take you many times, Cara. I may have fought what was between us, but know this: you are mine.”

  When he held out his hand, she took it, accepting whatever the future held for her. “And you are mine,” she said when she pulled even with him.

  He nodded. “Aye.”

  They walked through the woods in a companionable silence. That morning Cara had thought everything lost to her, and now she had it all. Well, almost, if Deirdre would stop looking for her.

  “We found another Warrior,” she said.

  “Maybe.”

  “I understand why you don’t trust people, Lucan, but I feel that he’s telling the truth.”

  “Maybe,” Lucan said again.

  She rolled her eyes. Night was approaching quickly, and as they reached the edge of the forest, Cara found she was anxious to get back to the castle.

  Suddenly Lucan stopped, his arm drawing her to a halt. Cara stilled and listened.

  “What is it?” she whispered.

  Lucan shook his head to quiet her. Then she saw movement in the shadow of a tree and Galen stepped into their path. She felt Lucan’s nails growing as she clung to his hand.

  “What do you want, Shaw?” Lucan demanded.

  But Galen’s eyes were riveted on her. “You wear it for all the world to see?” he asked, his voice low and angry.

  Lucan shoved her behind him. “What are you talking about?”

  Galen pointed to her. “The vial. The Demon’s Kiss. It should be hidden.”

  Cara glanced down to find her mother’s necklace was indeed outside her gown. “I usually keep it hidden, but only because people thought it odd.”

  “Where did you get it?” Galen demanded.

  “None of your damned concern,” Lucan growled.

  Cara, however, realized Galen might know about the vial. She stepped around Lucan. “From my mother when I was just a child.”

  “The wyrran killed her, didn’t they?” Galen asked.

  She nodded. “My parents hid me, which was the only reason I escaped.”

  “Do you know what it is you hold, what you are?”

  “Nay.”

  “Cara,” Lucan warned.

  She looked at Lucan and touched his arm. “I’ve wanted to know what this necklace was for as long as I can remember. I no longer have my mother to tell me. Would you deny me the information if Galen has it?”

  Lucan sighed and shook his head. “Of course not.”

  She turned to Galen. “What is this necklace?”

  “That blood you carry is from a drough.”

  Cara recalled how Lucan had told her there were two sects of Druids, the mie, or good Druids, and the drough, or evil Druids. “My family was good and decent. They weren’t evil.”

  Lucan’s arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her against his side. “Go on,” he told Galen.

  “The blood ritual is a ceremony every drough performs on their eighteenth year. The bloodletting is supposed to open them up to receive black magic.”

  “Nay,” Cara said. “My parents were good people.”

  “Did you move around often?” Galen asked.

  She opened her mouth to deny it when a memory of them walking into the cottage surfaced. How pleased her father had been, and how her mother had said they hoped they could stay longer than the last village.

  “You did, didn’t you?”

  She nodded to Galen, her chest tightening. “Why did we move so often?”

  “Because of Deirdre,” Lucan answered.

  Galen gave a curt nod. “Deirdre has been gathering up every Druid, mie or drough, she can find. She kills them for more power. The drough pose a threat to her magic, and it is said that some mie know how to bind the gods.”

  She glanced at Lucan to see if he had heard Galen. Lucan’s gaze touched her, wariness filling his gaze. If a mie could bind the god inside Lucan, Cara would find a mie for him.

  Cara touched the vial. “A Warrior said Deirdre wanted the blood. Why?”

  “A drough’s blood holds great magic, especially to the one who either spills the blood or captures it.” Galen’s gaze narrowed as if something just dawned on him. “You’re what Deirdre is looking for.”

  She glanced at Lucan. “I am.”

  “Then you’re going to need as many Warriors as you can find, MacLeod. Deirdre wants your woman more than she wants any Warrior.”

  “Why?” Lucan asked.

  “The power of Cara’s blood mixed with her mother’s is heady for one such as Deirdre to ignore. The jolt of power she would get would be immense. It is rare indeed to find a Druid with her mother’s drough blood around her neck.”

  Cara pulled the necklace over her head. “Then I will pour out my mother’s blood.”

  “Nay,” Galen said, and held out a hand to stop her. “Don’t.”

  “What aren’t you telling us?” Lucan demanded. “The droughs were evil. They would be a benefit to Deirdre, and since blood is let as a ritual, it would be easy for Deirdre to gain their blood. Why kill them when she could have them on her side?”

  Galen sighed and ran a hand down his face. “Deirdre is a drough. She has kept herself alive using her brethren’s blood for over five hundred years. Each time she kills a drough and gains their blood, she grows stronger. She wants no drough around that might usurp her power.”

  Lucan cursed long and low.

  “Your woman needs to be kept away from Deirdre at all costs. She must keep the vial safe as well, for she may need her mother’s blood one day.”

  “I’m seeing to that,” Lucan said.

  Galen leaned his shoulder against a tree. “Cara could fight Deirdre with her magic.”

  “I know nothing of the Druids and their ways,” Cara said with a shake of her head. “I didn’t even know what a drough was until Lucan told me. I have no magic.”

  “Not true,” Galen said. “Every descendent of the Druids has magic. The mie turn to nature for theirs. The drough take their own blood, thereby sacrificing a part of themselves to evil. Once that is done, the black magic takes over.”

  She put her hand on Lucan’s chest. “I don’t want to use black magic.”

  “You willna have to,” he promised her. “We’ll find a way.”

  When they looked up, Galen was gone. “You’re going to need more than your brothers, MacLeod,” Galen’s voice echoed in the trees.

  “He moves like the wind,” Cara said.

  “Come,” Lucan said, and took her hand. “We need to get back to the castle.”

  She gathered her skirts in one hand while Lucan held her other and they ran. He slowed his pace so she could keep up, but she was no match for his strength. Night soon blanketed the land. When she could go no farther, Lucan lifted her in his arms without breaking stride and kept running.

  Cara laid her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes as her mind ran over everything Galen had told her. She didn’t want to believe her mother had practiced black magic. There had been too much laughter, too much good, in Cara’s life for her to believe her parents had been evil.

  But the vial of her mother’s blood around Cara’s neck spoke otherwise. How she wished her mother were there so she could ask.

  “We’ll get through this
,” Lucan said.

  She nodded, unable to reply. His words were meant to comfort and reassure, but she knew the truth of the situation, and it would take more than promises to keep her alive.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Fallon stood on the battlements, his gaze to the east where they had last seen Lucan.

  “He should have returned by now,” Quinn said.

  “He’ll be here.” Fallon hoped Quinn didn’t hear the fear in his voice.

  “I should have gone with him.”

  “He wanted us to stay here.”

  Quinn leaned his hands on the stones and blew out a breath. “We aren’t prepared, Fallon. Deirdre will strike, and we’ll find ourselves as her prisoners in the mountain once more.”

  “We’ll be ready.”

  “Stop!” Quinn bellowed, his voice echoing in the silence. “Just stop,” he said more quietly. “Admit that you’re afraid. Admit that we don’t stand a chance.”

  Fallon faced his youngest brother and wished to hell he’d been the man his brothers had needed him to be. “There is always a chance.”

  “Don’t try and sound like Da.”

  Fallon was walking past his brother to return to the great hall when Quinn’s voice stopped him.

  “What is that?” Quinn asked.

  Fallon turned and followed Quinn’s gaze. He saw someone running toward the castle with something in their arms. Then there was a familiar whistle. “It’s Lucan. And he has Cara.”

  Before Fallon finished talking, Quinn had jumped over the battlements to land on the outside of the castle wall and raced toward Lucan. Fallon sagged against the stones. He stayed there but a moment more before he started toward the stairs that would take him to the bailey.

  Fallon paused and looked at the bailey. He could jump it. He knew if he let his god out, he would land safely. It would be a small sacrifice, something to test himself and his god. Fallon hesitated a moment too long and stepped away from the edge.

  He was a fool to think he was strong enough to control the god as Lucan did. Fallon was too much of a coward to even try. He ran down the stairs and met Lucan and Quinn in the bailey.

  “Is she hurt?” Fallon asked when he saw that Lucan carried Cara.

  “Nay,” she answered. “He won’t let me down.”

  Lucan grunted. “She’s tired.”

  Fallon followed Lucan inside the castle. He didn’t miss the look between Lucan and Cara when he sat her in one of the chairs before the hearth. Something had changed between them, and it wasn’t difficult to figure out what it was. Fallon was glad for his brother. After all they had been through, Lucan deserved some happiness.

  Cara lifted her gaze to Fallon, then shifted to Quinn. “I’m sorry. I really thought I was doing the right thing in leaving.”

  “You are welcome here as long as you need to stay,” Fallon said.

  Her smile was genuine. “Thank you.”

  “I have news,” Lucan said as he built a fire.

  That got Quinn’s interest. “What kind of news?”

  “A lot, actually,” Cara said. “I found another Warrior.”

  Fallon glanced at Lucan. His tunic was gone and could have been torn in battle. “Did he attack?”

  “Nay.” Lucan dusted off his hands and stood when he finished. “He knows of us, of how we escaped Deirdre. He said he’s been hiding from Deirdre as well, and there are others like him.”

  “Others?” Quinn repeated.

  “Aye, others,” Lucan said. “He said we’re going to need him and the other Warriors when Deirdre attacks.”

  “I don’t know,” Fallon said, and ran a hand down his face. “All this time we’ve thought we were alone.”

  “Galen said he’s been searching for all of you,” Cara said. “He could be a way to win against Deirdre.”

  Quinn gave a snort. “Or he could be a way to utter defeat.”

  “Do you have another option?”

  Fallon hated to admit it, but Cara was right. One look at Lucan, though, and Fallon knew there was more. “What else happened?”

  Lucan sighed. “First, I must get food for Cara. She hasn’t eaten since this morn.”

  He stalked to the kitchen and pulled some of the roasted deer from the pit and put it on a trencher. There was a little bread left that he added as well.

  For a moment he stared at the food. There had been a time when his trencher had been piled with various foods. He missed the meals he had taken for granted.

  When he walked back into the great hall Cara was at the table pouring herself some wine from Fallon’s bottle. Lucan lifted a brow at his elder brother. Fallon didn’t share his wine easily.

  “She looked as though she needed it,” Fallon said in way of an explanation.

  Lucan placed the trencher between him and Cara and motioned for her to eat. Once she had selected a piece of meat, he took one for himself. He watched her eat, the way her lips closed over the meat and pulled the bite into her mouth, and the way her tongue licked the juice from her lips. He grew hard just watching her.

  She glanced at him. By the way she smiled, she saw his hunger. If they were alone, he would haul her on top of the table and make love to her again.

  But they weren’t alone, and if Quinn’s glare was any indication, everyone knew how much Lucan wanted her. The question was did they know he had already tasted her? Did they know he had sampled a slice of heaven that he didn’t plan to ever let go?

  “Lucan,” Fallon urged.

  He finished chewing his bite and put his elbows on the table. “Galen also knew of the Demon’s Kiss.”

  “What?” Quinn demanded as he moved to stand at the foot of the table near him. “How?”

  Lucan shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  Fallon slid onto the bench across from him. “What did you learn?”

  Cara’s hand slipped under the table and rested on his leg. She was afraid to tell them, afraid of what they would say. He covered her hand with his own and gave her a little squeeze of reassurance.

  “We know why Deirdre wants Cara,” Lucan answered. “Deirdre, it seems, is a drough.”

  Quinn crossed his arms over his chest and cursed. “A drough. Why didn’t we ever think of that?”

  “We had other things on our minds,” Fallon said.

  It was true, but they should have recognized Deirdre for what she was. “Her use of black magic should have told us then.”

  “But droughs have been gone for centuries,” Quinn argued.

  Lucan looked at his younger brother. “Have they?”

  “They’ve been hiding from Deirdre,” Cara said. “Deirdre uses their blood, the blood of all Druids actually, to become stronger as well as immortal.”

  Fallon’s and Quinn’s gaze moved to the vial hanging around Cara’s neck. Lucan entwined his fingers with hers.

  “You’re drough,” Quinn said into the silence.

  “Nay,” Lucan said. “She is a descendent from Druids. A Druid, by nature, is a mie.”

  Cara’s fingers tightened in his. “To become drough, Druids give a part of their blood in a ritual that lets the black magic in and thereby the evil. The ritual is supposed to be performed on a Druid’s eighteenth year.”

  “Holy hell,” Quinn cursed. “Have you, Cara?”

  She shook her head.

  “But your mother was a drough,” Fallon said.

  “It appears so.”

  Lucan ran his thumb over the back of Cara’s hand. “Galen also informed us that a mie has the power to bind our god. We wanted to find other Warriors and a Druid. It appears we’ve found both.”

  “I canna bind the god,” Cara said. “I know nothing of magic.”

  “Galen said it came naturally.”

  “Have you seen me do anything magical, Lucan?” she argued. “I’m not your Druid, but I will find you one.”

  Fallon lifted the wine to his lips and took a long drink. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Let me see if I understand t
his. Cara is a Druid. Her mother was a drough, and Deirdre killed her.”

  Lucan gave a nod.

  “Deirdre is killing all the droughs for their magic.”

  “We’ve no idea how old she is,” Lucan said. “With the growth of her magic, she’s able to become immortal.”

  “Wonderful,” Quinn murmured.

  Fallon scratched his chin. “Deirdre wants Cara, and I gather she’s something special because she has a Demon’s Kiss.”

  “Aye. Deirdre would get the blood of Cara’s mother as well as her own.”

  “Wait,” Quinn said. “If it was Deirdre that killed Cara’s parents, wouldn’t she have already gotten her mother’s blood?”

  Lucan looked at Cara for an answer.

  Cara took a deep breath. “I thought about that as we traveled back to the castle. I don’t think Deirdre needs the blood of a drough. I think she needs the blood in the Demon’s Kiss.”

  “I agree,” Lucan said. “Innocent mie blood freely given in a black magic ritual that draws evil. I cannot imagine what kind of powers the blood in a Demon’s Kiss would hold.”

  Quinn ran a hand through his hair. “This just gets better and better.”

  “Does it matter that Cara hasn’t become a drough?” Fallon asked.

  Lucan looked at Cara, who shrugged. “I don’t know,” Lucan said. “Galen said Deirdre was hunting all Druids, droughs and mies alike.”

  “Is she killing the mies?”

  Lucan threw up his hands. “I don’t know.”

  “Galen would,” Cara said. “He was right, Lucan. We’re going to need him, and not just in the coming battle with Deirdre. He could have the answers to the questions we have.”

  “And he may not,” Lucan argued.

  Lucan wanted to believe Galen sided with them, but he had spent too many years being wary of everyone to trust so easily.

  “We need to keep Cara away from Deirdre,” Fallon said.

  Quinn nodded. “As well as any other Druid we can find.”

  * * *

  Cara rolled onto her back and yawned while she stretched her arms over her head. She hadn’t remembered coming to bed. The last thing she recalled was sitting with the brothers in the great hall as they spoke of strategies for the battle. It must have been Lucan who brought her to her chamber.