by Donna Grant
It is a weakness.
A failing she had to hide. Whenever she was perplexed she tended to make the wrong choices, and these Druids and Warriors had asked for her help. She didn’t want to think she had made the wrong decision to help them, but deep down, she feared she had.
Once she was through the gate, Isla turned toward the cliffs. She didn’t stop until she reached the edge. A look down showed her just how high up they were as the razorbills found their nests for the night in the walls of rock.
She lifted her face to the sky and the setting sun and basked in its remaining warmth and light. The smell of the salt on the wind tickled her nose, but it was the sound of the sea as the waves rolled in that calmed her racing heart.
Isla opened her eyes and looked at the sea as it stretched far into the horizon and beyond. The gray and brown rock of the cliffs clashed beautifully with the dark blue waters and bright green grass beneath her feet. It was almost as if she had entered another world, a world she had thought dead to her.
It was the flap of wings that alerted her she was no longer alone. “Hello, Broc.”
He chuckled as he landed and folded his mighty wings behind him. “I should have known you would sense me.”
“I should have known I wouldn’t be allowed to be alone,” she said and turned to face him. His indigo skin shown in the sinking sun, and his Warrior eyes, eyes the same color as his skin, measured her. She had always wanted to ask if their eyesight changed when the god took over since the color took over their entire eye.
His brow furrowed at her words. He swiped at an errant strand of his fair hair caught in the wind and blowing in his eyes. “No one sent me. I came to see how you were before I left.”
“They don’t trust me, do they? Not that I blame them. I am drough.”
“Did you lie to us about what happened to you?”
Isla almost rolled her eyes. “Of course not.”
“Then they believe you, and they trust you enough to ask you to stay. Give them a chance.”
A chance. She probably shouldn’t, but she was. “Deirdre will sense you coming. Be careful.”
He looked at the castle over his shoulder. Isla saw a long figure standing on the battlements watching them. Sonya. Isla wondered if the Druid knew of Broc’s feelings, and if Sonya returned those feelings.
“I will return,” Broc promised. He turned back to Isla and smiled, showing his fangs. “They will take care of you here. They are good people.”
“I know.” She just hoped they didn’t pay the ultimate price for taking her in.
With a single nod, his leathery wings unfolded. A moment later, he was soaring in the sky with only breeches covering his body.
She was going to miss having Broc at the castle. He was the only one she really knew, her only ally. And now he was gone.
Isla stood on the edge of the cliffs, the breeze buffeting her, and for the first time in ages she let her mind drift back to the days before Deirdre when Grania had still been an innocent child and Lavena hadn’t been locked in the blue flames.
Isla waited for the stabbing pain that always came when she thought of her sister and niece, yet there was nothing but a hollow ache of regret for what could have been.
“Farewell, Lavena. May you find the peace you long sought,” Isla whispered into the wind. “Grania, my dear sweet Grania, may the purity that made you so special as a child return to you in death. Forgive me, both of you.”
*
Hayden flipped a dagger end over end as he leaned against a cottage. Rebuilding the village had begun again, but that’s not why he was there. His target stood on the cliffs, her gaze never wavering from the sea.
What was it about the water that held Isla so? She hadn’t moved from her spot since she had walked there after supper. Night had fallen and still she stood.
Arran walked from one of the cottages and dusted off his hands as he came toward Hayden. “What do you think she’s doing?”
Hayden shrugged and sheathed the dagger at his hip. “I doona know.”
“She’s as still as a stone. Larena said to leave her be, but Quinn thinks we should bring her inside.”
“Leave her,” Hayden said.
“I told you he’d say that,” Ian said with a chuckle.
Hayden glanced at Ian and his close cut hair. “Where is your twin?”
The smile on Ian’s face dropped. “Are you worried he’ll hurt Isla?”
Anger sliced through Hayden so quickly he almost didn’t tamp down his god in time to stop the transformation. “Did Isla ever harm either of you?”
“You know she didn’t,” Ian answered.
“Then why does he hate her so? You were the one who was tortured, not Duncan.”
Arran dropped his gaze to stare at the ground while Ian looked down the center road of the village.
Ian clenched his jaw. “Duncan blames himself for what happened to me.”
“Do you blame him?” Hayden wanted to know.
Ian shook his head. “Never. The only ones I do blame are Deirdre and William.”
“And William is dead,” Arran said.
The men exchanged looks, smiles of satisfaction on their faces.
Hayden pushed away from the cottage wall and looked once more at Isla. “I understand your brother’s anger, Ian. He needs something and someone to blame. Deirdre hasn’t been found yet, and until he’s seen her, that anger will transfer to Isla.”
“Why not Broc as well?” Arran asked.
Ian took in a long breath. “Because Broc fought with us. No one saw Isla. I’ll talk to him, Hayden.”
“It willna do any good,” Hayden said. “He needs time and proof that Deirdre is alive.”
There was a loud crash in one of the nearby cottages followed by a bellow, then a curse, the voice belonging to Camdyn. Hayden waited for Camdyn to exit the cottage, and when he did the Warrior was covered in ash.
Hayden bit the inside of his mouth so he wouldn’t smile at the sight before him.
Arran let out a bark of laughter while Ian quickly turned away to hide his own smile.
“Damned beam,” Camdyn cursed and began brushing the ash from his long black hair. “It cracked in two before I had time to brace it. The fire took more of it than I first thought.”
Hayden couldn’t stop the smile this time. “You don’t say?”
“Verra funny, Hayden,” Camdyn said. “Next time you be the one to go check the sturdiness of the cottages.”
“Another complete rebuild?” Hayden asked.
Camdyn nodded. “I’m afraid so. The fire didn’t take the entire cottage, but the initial structure is so damaged that it would be better if it was rebuilt.”
Hayden made a mental note, adding the tally for how many cottages could be salvaged.
“Is that Isla still out there?” Camdyn asked.
Arran nodded. “It seems Malcolm will have company tonight.”
Hayden didn’t need to look far down the edge of the cliffs to find Larena’s cousin and the only human male at the castle — Malcolm Monroe.
He had risked his own life in helping Larena stay hidden from Deirdre. Deirdre had taken a special interest in Larena as a female Warrior.
Everyone had hoped Deirdre would forget Malcolm’s involvement, but she hadn’t. Her Warriors had attacked and nearly killed him. Broc had found him in time to kill Malcolm’s attackers, but not in time to save Malcolm’s arm from being ruined.
Not even Sonya’s magic could heal Malcolm’s arm. The slashes on Malcolm’s face had healed quickly, but they left scars he would bear forever. Hayden thought them a badge of courage, but he knew Malcolm didn’t agree.
With Malcolm’s right arm all but useless, he felt less than a man. Malcolm was next in line to be laird of the Monroe clan, but he declined to return to his people. As much as Hayden hated to admit it, the clan wouldn’t accept Malcolm as he was now.
Which was why Fallon had made room for Malcolm among them. Hayden liked him, thou
gh Malcolm kept to himself, rarely talking to anyone. Malcolm walked the cliffs at night, a lone soul among the rocky outcroppings.
Except now, Isla was there as well.
“Would you have killed her?”
Hayden jerked his head to find Duncan beside him and the others gone. The twin stared at him with cold brown eyes. “What are you talking about?”
“When Isla asked you to take her head. Were you going to do it?”
“Would you have done it?”
Duncan nodded. “Aye.”
That was Hayden’s thought as well. He still didn’t understand why he’d hesitated.
“Answer me,” Duncan demanded.
“The pain that sits in your gut and festers willna ever go away, Duncan, no matter how many people you kill.”
Duncan snorted. “And how would you know?”
Hayden faced the twin and caught his gaze. “I know. You can blame everyone you want, but the blame lies with only one person.”
“Me.”
“Nay. Deirdre. Would you blame Ian if it had been you taken?”
Duncan’s face contorted. “Nay.”
“Then doona fault yourself. There will be plenty of chances to fight Deirdre in the coming days. Save your anger for her.”
“Is that what you’ve done? Saved your anger for her?”
Hayden shook his head. “I did the opposite, though I wish I’d had someone tell me what I’ve shared with you. I let my rage fester inside me until I’ve become a monster in every sense of the word. Is that what you want to become? Is that what you want Ian to see every time he looks into your face?”
Duncan sighed and ran a hand through his long hair. “He suffered, and I could do nothing. Even when we shared the same pain, Marcail took that from me in her effort to help.”
“At least your brother is alive.”
“And yours isn’t?”
Hayden had said too much already. It wasn’t like him to give out advice, but he saw the road Duncan was headed down since he had traveled that same path himself. It wasn’t an easy one.
But then what path ever was?
“Hayden?” Duncan said.
“Nay, but it doesna matter,” Hayden replied. “It was a long time ago.”
Too damn long, yet it felt as if no time had passed since discovering his family murdered.
TEN
Hayden watched Isla from the village long past midnight. Not once did she move or utter a single sound. Duncan and the others had since returned to the castle, but Hayden didn’t want to leave Isla alone.
Not that she was alone. Malcolm continued his stroll along the cliffs, though he gave Isla a wide berth. She seemed not to notice him, but Hayden imagined she detected every detail down to the smallest one.
Hours ticked by and still Hayden stayed just to see how long it would take before Isla crumpled to the ground. But the longer he watched her, the more he began to realize there was more to Isla than he initially thought.
When the first rays of sun peeked over the horizon he started toward her. He didn’t know why, and though he told himself to turn away, his feet still took him to the petite drough.
He stopped several paces behind, and to the side of, her and surveyed the scene before him. MacLeod Castle was beautiful, but it was the sea and the cliffs that truly made the place spectacular. It was no wonder Isla had stood there all night.
So much had happened since Hayden had come to the castle that he hadn’t bothered to look at it as Isla had done.
“You’ve watched me all night,” Isla said. “Were you afraid I might jump?”
“It didn’t cross my mind until now. Are you?”
She chuckled, the sound soft and sensual. “It wouldn’t kill me, so why put myself through the pain?”
“How do you know you willna die? Have you tried jumping to your death before?”
She turned her head and stared at him with those intense ice-blue eyes. “I’ve died many times, Hayden. I lost count of the times I perished on that mountain freezing to death before I was brought here.”
Hayden wasn’t sure he believed her. The only ones he knew that could happen to were Warriors, and she most certainly wasn’t a Warrior.
She cocked her head at him. “You don’t believe me.”
Hayden moved until he was even with her. “I’m not sure what I believe.”
“Shall I prove it to you?”
“There’s no need.”
“Really?” Her eyes narrowed at him. “I think you’ll continue to doubt me until I prove it to you.”
Hayden looked away. “I believe you. All right? Now enough.”
No sooner had the words left his mouth than he felt something touch his side where the dagger was. He looked down to find his blade gone and in Isla’s small hand.
“You cannot kill me.”
Isla rolled her eyes. “I know that. I’m not dim-witted, Hayden. I’m going to prove to you that I’m as immortal as you.”
He took a step to her when he saw her raise the weapon and point the blade at her stomach. He stretched his fingers, readying to snatch the blade from her hand. “Enough, Isla.”
She smiled, her eyes grave and serious. The next instant she plunged the dagger into her abdomen. Hayden barely caught her before she hit the ground. Her hands fell to her sides as her eyes fluttered close.
“God’s teeth,” Hayden murmured as blood poured from the wound.
Memories of finding his family thus surged through his mind. He watched helplessly as Isla’s blood, her life force, continued to gush through the wound.
The sound of feet running toward him didn’t cause Hayden to raise his eyes from Isla. He could only stare at her dead body. Hayden, despite the god inside him, couldn’t stop someone from dying. And it was being proven to him once again.
Hayden found himself trembling. The last time he held someone like this it was his younger brother. It brought back too many memories long buried, memories of helplessness and anger better left alone.
“Isla,” Hayden said and shook her though he knew it was useless.
Her beautiful eyes were closed and her lips parted as if she slept, but Hayden knew she did more than sleep. She was dead.
“What happened?” Quinn demanded as he skidded to a halt beside him.
Hayden swallowed and reached for the dagger. He didn’t like the way his hand shook as he wrapped his fingers around the pommel. He sucked in a breath and pulled the blade out of her with one jerk of his hand before he tossed it aside.
“She said she wanted to prove to me that she was immortal. She took my dagger and…”
“I know,” Quinn said softly. “I saw that part. Tell me you don’t have any open wounds, Hayden. Her drough blood can kill you.”
Hayden shook his head in answer. He couldn’t take his eyes from her face or the blood that coated her lavender gown. “I’ve no wounds.”
“Check,” Quinn demanded.
Hayden tore his gaze from Isla’s face and glared at the youngest MacLeod. “I’m not the one lying here with a wound in my belly. Worry about Isla!”
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Hayden turned his attention back to Isla. He shook her again, the panic clawing at his insides — just as it had all those years earlier when he’d found his family.
“Holy hell,” Quinn murmured. “What has she done?”
“Isla,” Hayden murmured. “Isla!”
*
Isla gasped as the first breath filled her lungs. Her eyes flew open to find Hayden leaning over her, his gaze filled with agonized worry.
That concern, however, quickly turned to irritation.
“I told you I was immortal,” she said. She swallowed, hating the lump of anxiety in her stomach. There had been an instant when she’d first opened her eyes that she’d glimpsed such distress on Hayden’s face that it left her breathless.
His lips compressed into a tight line, his face once more set in its rigid lines. “I should kill you again for sc
aring me so.”
“So you didn’t believe I couldn’t be killed.”
“Isla,” he warned, his voice low and deep.
She had pushed him too far. Before she could utter an apology, Hayden stood and lifted her on her feet. She hadn’t realized until that time she had been in his arms. Again.
How was it that she always seemed to end up there? And why did she enjoy it so?
“I think you’ve proved your point, Isla,” Quinn said.
She hadn’t noticed they weren’t alone. Isla glanced at Quinn. “I do not like being doubted.”
“We can see that,” Hayden ground out.
Quinn rubbed his jaw. “So the only way for you to be killed is by beheading? Just like us?”
“Or Deirdre can kill me,” she said. “She threatened it often enough.”
“Because of her link to you?” Hayden asked.
Isla nodded. “At least that’s what she told me.”
“You doona believe her?”
Isla smoothed her hands over the front of her gown, the gown borrowed from Cara that was now ruined. She should have had a thought for it before she acted so rashly. It was so unlike her, yet it had felt good.
“Deirdre isn’t all knowing. She likes to pretend that she is, but she isn’t. It will take her some time to realize I’m not dead. Right now, she’s trying to build up her magic to create another body.”
“Will she look the same?” Quinn asked.
“Without a doubt.”
Hayden fisted hands covered in her blood. He glanced down at them, and she saw what looked like pain and anger. Memories maybe? It troubled him, whatever it was.
Quinn’s gaze narrowed on her before he looked at Hayden. “The morning meal is being prepared.”
“Thank you.” Isla couldn’t move, not with Hayden’s black gaze on her.
He waited until Quinn had departed before he asked, “What were you doing out here all night?”
“Deirdre rarely allowed me out of the mountain, and when she did it was for short periods. This time, I was able to do what I wanted. Do you have any idea how long it’s been since I’ve seen the sun rise or set? Yet I was able to watch both.”
She tried not to fidget when Hayden’s eyes turned to the now healed wound in her stomach. Isla put her hand over the small hole in her gown. “I shouldn’t have done it. I’m sorry.”