Heart Of A Highland Warrior

by Anita Clenney

  “You don’t need either. Just say the word.”

  “Scotland. I want to go to Scotland.”

  Tristol entered the gates of hell with apprehension. He was closer to his goal now than ever before. Even with his missing fortress and lost vampires, he would restart his breeding plan, and in the meantime, strengthen his surviving vampires by letting them feed on warrior blood. He still had Anna’s child to consider, but that was only one child with two warrior parents. It would prove interesting to see if he could train that child to work for him. He felt a twinge of guilt at the thought of taking their child. Tristol recalled how his own mother had loved him, how his father had died to save him. He was letting the warriors soften him. He’d watched them so closely he felt he knew them. Respected them. They had more honor and loyalty than his kind.

  He had worked too long to let sentimentality get in his way. For his race of vampires to increase in strength and size, it was crucial that he work quickly.

  The Dark One was waiting. He wasn’t hideous like his demonic creations. He was beautiful, as he had been created in the beginning. Lucifer. Tristol had long since suspected that his own beauty played a role in the Dark One’s preference for him above other demons. He looked so much like the Dark One he could have been his son. Tristol hoped to use that to his advantage when the time came. Vampires were beautiful, or at least appealing, not ugly like demons. If he played his hand carefully, he intended to prove to the Dark One that he would be better off with vampires serving him instead of demons. And if he fell for it, then Tristol would be one step closer to his ultimate goal. Mutiny.

  Tristol entered the throne room. It wasn’t hot here. It was elaborate, in a dark way. Everything was made of metal and stone, with lots of obsidian and mirrors.

  “Master.” Tristol bowed before the Dark One.

  The Dark One leaned forward, his long hair reaching to his lap. “We lost Voltar.”

  “I heard,” Tristol said. “That’s why I came.”

  He put a hand on Tristol’s shoulder. “I’m glad you’re here. Who was responsible?”

  “One of the warriors. I don’t know which.”

  “I grow weary of them. And I have lost so many of my oldest demons. Druan, Malek, and now Voltar. You are the only one who remains. I am considering sending one of the arch demons.”

  Tristol hid his alarm. That would destroy his plans. “They don’t operate in this realm.”

  “It might be time to change that.”

  “No. Let me see what I can do.”

  The Dark One reached for Tristol’s hand. “You are like a son to me. You bring me comfort. I don’t know what I would do if I lost you.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  WHEN THEY ARRIVED in Scotland, Tavis stood looking at his homeplace for some time. Anna didn’t rush him. She stayed at his side, her hand in his. It was wonderful being back, but his heart hurt knowing Ian wasn’t here to annoy them with his puzzles and pranks, and Alana wasn’t here with her quick smiles. Nor Ma and Da. He turned and saw Faelan standing nearby, and he was thankful. He’d gotten one brother back, and he had a child. One on the way. One buried in the ground.

  Tavis went alone to his son’s grave. He was buried near Ian rather than his own wife and children, but Tavis was glad. Ian had looked out for him in the beginning of his life. He hoped Ian would look out for him until Tavis joined them. He wished he could have known him. Known what kind of child he was. Taught him the things fathers should teach their sons, how to swing a sword and ride a horse. Teach him about respect and honor responsibility. Ian had done that for the first part of his life. What happened to him afterward? Did Bessie remarry? Did a stranger raise his son? There was still so much he needed to learn.

  A hand touched his shoulder. Faelan dropped down beside him. “I asked Sean to find out as much about his life as he could. He was a good warrior. He had two sons and a daughter. Do you realize how many warriors today are here because of you? It’s a funny thing.”

  Tavis smiled. “Even Sean started calling me grandfather. Anna put a stop to it. She said she’s not going to have someone saying she’s marrying a grandfather.”

  “I’m glad you found Anna. You were meant to be here.”

  Tavis looked at the grave. “I hope you’re right. I believe you are. I see that Alana named a son after you. Sweet Alana.”

  “I know. The worst part is, it seems like just days ago that I saw her,” Faelan said.

  Tavis nodded. “Instead of laughing and running, she’s buried in a grave. I swear I expected Ian to come running out to meet me when I got here. God, I miss them.”

  “Aye. But I have you, and I’m bloody glad. Here, this belongs to you.” Faelan handed Tavis the white stone. “I put it on your grave. I thought I’d never see you again in this lifetime. Perhaps our children will carry on the tradition.”

  “Aye, that would be grand.”

  “If we don’t get moving, we’re going to miss Cody and Shay’s second attempt at a wedding.”

  “I hope this one proves uneventful.”

  Cody and Shay had decided to get married in the same chapel where not very long ago Bree and Faelan had wed. Coira and the women had worked hard to pull it all together, with Cody alongside them. He was terrified that the Council was going to come for Shay. He wouldn’t let them take her, but he’d said he would prefer not to murder the Council members unless it was necessary. Anna hoped that she and Tavis would be as happy as the other couples.

  “It’s perfect,” Shay said. “I didn’t tell Cody, but I really wanted to be married in Scotland.”

  “You’re getting your wish,” Anna said.

  “Ready?” Ewan asked Shay. “Let’s try this again.”

  The music started, and Faelan and Bree went first. Marcas offered his arm to Sorcha. She was sullen. Something was troubling her. Probably the rumors about the traitor. The clan was still worried about it. Anna was planning to pick up where Angus left off and find out what really happened and who was responsible.

  “Are you going to daydream all day or let me escort you down the aisle?” Lachlan asked, offering Anna his arm.

  “How could I resist such an offer?” She slipped hers through and glanced at Tavis, who looked out of sorts. She gave him a conciliatory smile, and he relaxed.

  “I hope there are no interruptions this time,” Lachlan whispered.

  “You and me too.” Shay had joined Cody at the front of the chapel, and there was a moment where Anna wished it were her and Tavis. They would, in time. She’d done a full 360 to even consider marriage. Actually, she’d proposed to him.

  “What’s that grin about?” Lachlan asked.

  “It’s a secret.”

  “If he gets tired of you,” he said with a grin, “let me know.”

  “He’ll knock you out if you even mention it.”

  “Why do you think I’m telling you?” he whispered in her ear as Tavis scowled.

  The wedding went off without a hitch. Shay and Cody were dazzling, and Anna was getting more excited—and nervous—thinking about her own upcoming wedding. And the baby’s birth. It would be several days before her pregnancy could be confirmed by a doctor, but Anna had as much faith in Bree’s feelings as she did modern medicine.

  “Your turn next,” Ronan said, slipping beside her at the reception. Tables had been set up outside and were loaded with food and drinks. Anna was on a food run while Tavis snagged drinks.

  “Or yours. You could marry one of your many groupies,” Anna said.

  “You know that’s a crock,” Ronan said.

  She smiled. She was one of the few who knew the truth about Ronan. Declan walked up next to Ronan. They could easily be mistaken for one another when they wore kilts.

  Ronan smacked Declan on the chest. “Maybe Declan here’s hiding a mate. How about it, brother?”

  “Marriag
e isn’t for me,” Declan said.

  “That’s what Anna said. Now she’s drooling over Tavis and having his baby.”

  Anna poked Ronan in the ribs. “Don’t rub it in, or I’ll make you pay. What’s that noise?”

  “Sounds like a helicopter,” Declan said. Everyone looked around for the source. It seemed to be coming from the sky.

  “Maybe there’s a late wedding guest,” Anna said.

  “It’s not a helicopter,” Ronan said, drawing his sword. “I’ve heard that sound before.”

  Anna didn’t question his actions, but drew her dagger. The air wavered, and a shadow appeared. The warriors backed up, staring in shock as the shadow formed and a fortress appeared in the middle of one of the larger fields. “It’s Tristol’s fortress,” Anna whispered. She and the other warriors formed a line.

  Tavis ran up to her. “Get back, Anna. Please.”

  “We talked about this. I’m a warrior.”

  “And you’re going to be a mother.”

  “I can be both, for now.”

  Tavis growled, but he stood next to her, or rather, in front of her.

  The fortress was huge, dwarfing the Connor castle, which sat nearby. The door to the fortress opened, and a man stepped out. He was smiling, until he saw the wedding party. His smile faded, and he looked stunned. He turned back to the fortress.

  “No,” Ronan whispered, then louder, “Stop!” He and Declan started running after the man.

  “Bloody hell,” Tavis said. “It’s the hybrid.”

  Anna supposed this released her from her vow of secrecy. “His name is Cam.”

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I HAVE SO many people to thank for helping me create this story. My family, of course; my agent, Christine Witthohn; and my developmental editor, Clarence Haynes. And my editor, Kelli Martin, Goddess Jessica, and the Montlake team. You’re all wonderful. Thanks for everything you do. And to my critique partner, Dana Rodgers, and my beta readers, Lori McDermit, Tamie Holman, Becca Sellers, and Fawn Johns. Thanks, ladies. You rock!

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Photo © Barbara Woodard

  NEW YORK TIMES and USA Today bestselling author Anita Clenney grew up an avid reader, devouring Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys books before moving on to mysteries and romance. After working as a secretary, a Realtor, teacher’s assistant, booking agent for Aztec Fire Dancers, and a brief stint in a pickle factory (picture Lucy and Ethel—lasted half a day), she realized she’d missed the fork in the road that led to her destiny. Now she spends her days writing mysteries and paranormal romantic suspense about powerful relics, secret warriors, ancient evil, and destined love. Anita lives in suburban Virginia, outside Washington, DC, with her husband and two kids. You can learn more about her writing at www.anitaclenney.com.