by Donna Grant
Arran looked away. It was too good to be true. If there was one thing he’d learned, it was that the evil Deirdre and Declan had been wasn’t going to give up so easily.
They’d had a reprieve. But how much longer could that last?
“Find me the spell,” Fallon told Arran. “Please.”
Arran glanced at Ian and Dani. They had been together for only a short time, as had Logan and Gwynn, and Ramsey and Tara, but Arran knew they all wanted normal lives.
To have children.
To grow old and die with their wives.
Camdyn had almost succeeded in pushing Saffron away because he’d been married before. It was watching his first wife die that had confirmed to Camdyn he was better off alone.
But, as Quinn was often heard saying, love finds a way.
Arran had been given a home—and hope—with the MacLeods. He owed every man and woman there a debt, one that a single mission couldn’t come close to repaying.
“I’ll find it,” he vowed to Fallon. “I’ll follow every lead. I’ll do whatever it takes.”
“Even steal?” Ian asked.
Arran didn’t hesitate in his nod. “Whatever it takes.”
Dani held out a large manila packet. “I thought one of you might be going, so I had Saffron pull some strings. You’ll be working at the dig as a volunteer.”
“I willna have to sneak around?” he asked, a little peeved that he couldn’t use his Warrior skills.
“No,” Dani said, her voice flat. “There’s no need. You’ll be able to look at everything they find as well as help in the dig. If you find something, being a Warrior, you should be able to take it easily enough.”
Arran was eagerly looking forward to the task.
“But,” Dani said hurriedly, “remember, you’re working under Saffron’s company. She’s helping to supply the funding for this dig, which is how we were able to get so much information.”
Ian rolled his eyes. “Is there anything Saffron is no’ involved in?”
“Not really,” Dani said. Then she turned back to Arran. “In other words, if something happens, they’ll look to Saffron and her company, so we need to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
“If it does, I’ll ensure another company is at fault,” Arran said.
“Good. You can leave in the morning. They’re expecting you tomorrow afternoon,” Dani said.
Arran just smiled. “I’ll be leaving now. It takes only a few hours to reach Glasgow. I can be there by eight or nine this evening. That way I can have a look around before everyone starts working tomorrow.”
“A fine idea.” Fallon walked to the kitchen, where the keys to the vehicles were kept. He tossed a set to Arran and said, “Take the Range Rover. It’ll do better where you’re going than the Porsche.”
Arran pocketed the keys and hurried to pack a bag. His blood pumped with the need for something more exciting than sitting around playing chess.
There was only so much training a Warrior could do before his god demanded battle. And death.
Arran might not have evil to kill, but he had a spell to find. It was just what he needed.
CHAPTER
TWO
27 miles south of Muirkirk, Scotland
Arran parked the Range Rover and looked through the windshield at the chaos before him. A sizzle of magic rushed over him. He was definitely in the right place.
The magic was ancient and … potent. It made him smile, but that smile froze when a different feel of magic swarmed him. It left him breathing hard, need filling him until he could see nothing, feel nothing but the exquisite magic.
A Druid.
There was a Druid at the site. And he was going to find the Druid as soon as he could. The only thing that kept him from searching immediately was that the magic wasn’t evil.
Saffron had told him the excavation site was run by Dr. Ronnie Reid, who was a premier archeologist and one of the best ever to come out of the field.
Arran had also been warned that Dr. Reid ran a tight operation, so he’d have to be careful while he searched for any clues to the missing spell and the Druid he’d just felt.
Not that Arran was concerned about this Dr. Reid. He would put himself in the good graces of the man, and make sure Reid saw Arran was a good worker. Once that was established, then Reid would leave him alone. Thereby giving Arran the time he needed to look around.
He sighed. He’d thought this mission would be a quick one, but as he watched the dozens of people moving back and forth from the different dig sites, hauling away dirt while others were prone on the ground, dusting possible finds with what looked like paintbrushes, Arran realized this was going to be anything but simple.
In all likelihood, he’d be here several weeks. Mayhap months.
Not that he was upset about it. With no more evil to fight, Arran was bored. It wasn’t that he wanted evil around, it was just that the god inside him craved battle, yearned for bloodshed.
Demanded death.
What better way to appease his god than by battling evil?
Arran clenched his jaw. There would be no clashes at the dig site, which meant he would have to find another way to work off some of the pent-up energy he felt thrumming through his body.
Exerting his muscles with physical labor was just the thing.
Arran opened the door and got out of the Range Rover. The wind howled across the land, slamming into him just as the magic had done, and a glance at the evening sky showed that rain was on the way.
He closed his door and quickly opened the back passenger door to grab his duffel and backpack. Saffron had assured him that lodgings would be made available. In a way, Arran was hoping there wasn’t anything. It had been a very long time since he’d slept under the stars as he’d used to do four hundred years ago.
After adjusting the bags on his shoulders, he closed the door and looked at the site once more. The magic was beckoning to him, the sensual feel of it like kindling on a fire.
Desire pumped, scorching and burning, through him as his gaze scanned the area. With every breath, a yearning he’d never felt before filled him and grew until it consumed him, engulfed him.
Devoured him.
Where was the Druid? There was hunger such as he’d never borne. Every bone in his body urged him to find the Druid posthaste. It had to be the Druid who was causing such … desire.
The need was pulling him under, dragging him down a chasm of craving so dark and deep, there would be no coming back from it. If he didn’t do something soon, he would be lost.
He searched his mind for anything to hold on to, and that’s when he thought of MacLeod Castle. That was all it took for him to gain the upper hand on the desire raging within him.
Arran ground his teeth together. The Druid would have to wait. Right now, he had to meet Dr. Reid and learn as much about the man as he could.
The summer sky was still light despite it being past eight in the evening. It wouldn’t get truly dark until well after midnight, yet lights standing tall around the dig had already been turned on.
“Here we go,” Arran said, and started toward the site, the feel of magic growing with each step he took.
He’d barely gotten ten steps in before he was dodging people who assumed he’d get out of the way. Since there was a possibility they were carrying ancient magical items, they were right.
But still, a low growl sounded deep within his throat.
He was a Warrior, a man used to being feared. It didn’t sit well that he was dismissed so easily.
Arran walked over to a man with thin, windblown white-blond hair and glasses he kept shoving up his hawklike nose. The man was bony, his shoulders already hunching forward despite him being as young as his mid-thirties, if Arran guessed right.
“Excuse me,” Arran said as he reached him.
For several moments, Arran was ignored. The man glanced up from the clipboard in his hand as he scribbled something on the papers with his pencil. Arran raised a brow
when the man seemed to look right through him.
Then, a double take later, the man took a step back, his blue eyes wide as he shoved his glasses up on his nose. “Dude. How long have you been standing there?” he demanded, his American accent thick, and his voice deeper than Arran had imagined would come out of someone so willowy.
“Longer than I’d like,” Arran replied, giving just enough inflection in his voice to tell the man his irritation was rising.
“Oh. Yeah. Sorry ’bout that. I tend to get involved with my work. I’m Andy Simmons, the site manager.”
“Arran MacCarrick,” he said, and held out his hand.
Andy shook it with a grip that was much stronger than Arran would have guessed. “You arrived earlier than expected. I was just told a few hours ago that you’d be helping out.”
“I was eager to get started,” Arran said with a smile.
“We’re glad to have you. Anyone connected to Ms. Fletcher … er … Mrs. MacKenna, is a friend of ours. Sorry. I’m still getting used to the fact that Saffron is married.”
“Aye. To a verra good friend of mine. Saffron knows how interested I am in the history of my land, and when she told me about the dig, I wasna about to let the opportunity pass.” Arran wondered if he’d layered on the lie a little too thick, but Andy just nodded as if he understood.
“You either love archeology or you don’t.” Andy shoved his glasses higher on his nose and jabbed the pencil behind his ear. “Everyone seems to think it’ll be like Indiana Jones.”
Arran just chuckled along with Andy, since he had no idea what Andy was referring to. “Can you point me to Dr. Ronnie Reid? I’d like to get acquainted.”
There was a loud pop followed by static and someone’s disembodied voice yelling Andy’s name. Andy jumped and reached for the walkie-talkie strapped to his waist.
“Dr. Reid is there.” Andy pointed over his shoulder before he clicked the walkie-talkie and began a conversation as he strode away.
Summarily dismissed, Arran let his gaze wander the site. Since he didn’t know what Dr. Reid looked like, he began to look for someone who appeared to be in charge.
His gaze paused when he found himself looking at the nicest bum he’d seen in a long time. The woman wore tight, faded jeans that looked well worn, as if they were her favorite. The denim hugged her slim hips and long legs.
The wind paused, allowing the back of her tan jacket to fall into place, instantly hiding her backside from his view. Arran frowned. He liked what he’d seen. A lot. With one look, his blood was already burning for more than just a glance at her, churning with barely restrained desire.
That mixed with the Druid magic that was pushing the limits of his control only added to his hunger. He got another eyeful of the woman’s backside and smiled in approval. He’d always appreciated a nice body when he saw one, and this woman had a particularly superb figure.
Just before he looked away, the man beside the woman caught his attention. The older white man had a full beard more gray than black. A wide-brimmed, olive-colored hat rested upon his head to shield his eyes from the sun. He was speaking while the woman nodded her head of wheat-colored hair pulled back in a low, loose bun.
And just like that, Arran found his eyes locked on the woman once more. His fingers longed to run down the length of her slender neck before delving into the strands of her hair, pulling her slowly toward him until her lips were parted, begging for his kiss.
He swallowed and adjusted his jeans around his swollen cock. With great self-control, he looked away from the beauty and focused on the older gentleman again until his desire was in check.
Arran knew he’d found Dr. Reid. Without hesitation, he walked to the duo. His curiosity about what the woman looked like caused him to change course so that he came up from her right side instead of from behind her.
His gaze slid over her at his leisure. Her face was a golden bronze from her time outdoors. Her boots were muddied and as well worn as her jeans, proving she didn’t mind getting dirty.
The long-sleeve plaid shirt he glimpsed under her jacket was tucked into her jeans and showed off her full breasts. But it was the gold chain with the trinity knot dangling just above her cleavage that intrigued him.
It wasn’t just any piece of jewelry. It was ancient, and Arran would bet his immortality that she had unearthed it herself on some dig.
Where, he’d like to know.
There was another crackle of magic, and for an instant Arran thought it might have come from the woman.
The magic was mie magic, or good magic. The mies were the ones who used the magic nature gave them to heal and to help things grow. They were the ones who had counseled the leaders of the clans, the ones who had educated the young.
Had he felt drough magic, black magic, he would have sought the source immediately and ended it. Because droughs were evil. They gave their souls to Satan in order to use black magic.
The feel of their magic was cloying, sickening—whereas the feel of mie magic was calming to a Warrior.
As far as he knew, only Warriors could sense or feel the magic of the Druids. It had saved his brethren more times than he wanted to count.
The woman glanced at him, her hazel eyes barely giving him a second’s notice as she went back to her conversation. But with that quick look, the color of her eyes would be embedded in his memory forever.
Arran slowed his steps. Her heart-shaped face was angled a bit to the left. High cheekbones and a smooth complexion without a hint of makeup gave her an earthy, natural look he found appealing. The only thing that marred her face was a small scar on her chin.
Her full lips were a dusky pink that quickened his blood as he imagined them opening for his kisses and whispering his name. The clear, vibrant hazel eyes were by far her best feature. They were large, and every emotion could be detected in their rich depths.
Arran smiled. It was too bad he didn’t have time to pursue the woman, because he loved a good challenge, and that’s exactly what she’d be.
He gave her bum another look, inwardly smiling at how his hand itched to smooth over such nice curves. Anyone who stirred him as much as she deserved attention. Hours and hours of attention. Perhaps after he found the spell, he could turn his time to her.
A strand of her wheat-colored hair was pulled out of her bun by the ever-present wind and tangled in her long eyelashes. Long, slim fingers reached up and patiently extradited it again and again. Arran would bet his case of Dreagan Scotch hidden in his room that it was a motion she did every day and no longer noticed.
He was upon them now, and he hated that his perusal of the woman had come to an end. Arran wanted to know her name. He wanted to see her smile, hear her laugh, and listen to her scream his name as he brought her to climax.
His balls tightened as he imagined loosing her bun and allowing her hair to fall free as he removed her clothing one piece at a time until she was bare before him and he could feast his eyes upon her beauty.
Being this close to her made his blood run like molten lava in his veins. He craved a touch of her, yearned to hold her. Longed to claim her.
Months with just the two of them. Touching, kissing. Loving. Sheltered and wrapped in their desire.
He reached toward her, the need to touch her overwhelming, crushing. Just before he made contact, Arran dropped his hand, silently cursing himself for allowing his passion to rule him. But damn if he didn’t want to give in and see where it took him.
“Dr. Reid,” Arran said to the older man as he realized he’d been staring at the woman too long.
Except it wasn’t the man who answered, “Yes?”
Arran glanced at the woman to his left and narrowed his eyes. He jerked his gaze back to the man. “Ronnie Reid?”
There was a long-suffering sigh before he heard, “Right here, imbecile,” to his left.
Arran’s eyes slowly turned to the woman. “You?”
“Yes,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “Why is everyo
ne so surprised?”
“Maybe because you use ‘Ronnie’ as your name, lass.”
The older man chuckled, but kept quiet when Ronnie sent him a withering glare.
“Listen, I don’t know who you are, but let’s get this straight once and for all. I’m Dr. Veronica Reid, also known as Ronnie.”
“There’s no need to get riled, lass,” Arran said to calm her, but he loved the fire he saw within her. By the way her hazel eyes blazed, he knew he’d said the wrong thing.
“No need, huh?” Ronnie asked, her American-accented voice getting higher the more irritated she became. “How would you like everyone questioning who you were?”
“Ronnie,” the older man said as he tried—and failed—to hide his smile. “Give the poor bloke a break. He can’t know you’ve had a bad day.”
Ronnie closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she looked at Arran again, her anger had evaporated. “Forgive me. As Pete so wisely stated, you can’t know about the day I’ve had. I had no right to get riled, as you put it.”
“No harm done. I’m Arran MacCarrick.”
She winced when she heard his name. “Saffron said you were coming. I know first impressions are important, Mr. MacCarrick, but I hope you’ll forget mine.”
Arran had no such plans, but he didn’t tell her that. Besides, he liked what he’d seen. Maybe too much. The fact that she was Dr. Reid definitely put the brakes on any kind of flirting he might have thought of doing, however, his cock be damned.
Flirting might be out, but he was there to know all there was about Ronnie and what she was on the verge of discovering. He had to get close to her.
Yes. Verra close.
How he was going to do that and not give in to the need to pull her against him and taste her delectable pink lips, he had no idea. But he’d have to think, and quickly.
“Doona fash yourself about it, Dr. Reid.”
“Please,” she said as she held out her hand. “Call me Ronnie. Any friend of Saffron’s is a friend of mine.”