by Hazel Hunter
Lachlan gazed out at the moonlit waves, silvery and cold. As he waited, he felt Kinley come to his side.
“He’ll come back, won’t he?” Kinley asked as she stared out at the sea. She didn’t seem to be aware of the tears sliding down her cheeks. “He has to. We can’t lose both of them.”
“I dinnae ken if he can heal from this,” Lachlan said and put his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “Even if he comes back, he willnae be the same.” He glanced over her head at Tormod, who looked as if he might go after Raen. “No, Viking. We must honor his wishes.”
Neac joined them, and in a low voice said, “The last of the hostages have been recovered, and the castle searched. The undead and the marquess are gone.” He nodded toward the other end of the shore. “And the magic folk are here.”
Lachlan looked over to see Bhaltair and Cailean leading hundreds of druids out of the sea caves toward them. He released his wife.
“Tormod, gather the men. Kinley, go into the cave and see that the nobles are ready to travel.”
“Nice try,” she said and didn’t move. “Let me talk to Bhaltair. I don’t want to use his head as a soccer ball. Much.”
“Nor do I,” he told her gently. “But your hands are on fire, love, and I think you may burn off his face.”
“Oh, facking hell.” She shook out the flames and folded her arms around her waist. “Tormod, come on. Let’s gather the damn men.”
Lachlan went with Neac to intercept the druids, Bhaltair in front.
“Diana Burke is dead,” Lachlan said flatly. “You are not wanted here.”
“Leave us in peace to mourn our sister,” Neac added.
The old druid tucked his hands into his sleeves. “We come to pay our respects. She was our sister, too.”
Neac stepped up to Bhaltair, thrusting his face close. “You’ve no respect for anything but your own scrawny arse. Be gone with you, before I forget that you’re a facking weak, useless old man, and–”
Light burst between them, and Neac went hurtling backward to land with a splash in the water. He surfaced, spluttering, and stared aghast at the old druid.
“Have you gone daft?” Lachlan demanded of the old man, and then watched in disbelief as Bhaltair and his people walked straight past him.
The McDonnels made way for the druids, their expressions filled with contempt. Bhaltair ignored them as he went to the edge of the water, and stood until all the others had formed a line on either side of him. They stood and watched as Raen emerged, Diana’s limp body in his arms, and began wading toward them.
Though at first anger flashed across his haggard face, grim determination replaced it as he made directly for Bhaltair.
“Save her,” the big man said, falling to his knees in the surf. “Give her my life. Cast her death on me.”
The other druids turned to Bhaltair and waited for him to reply.
“The gods sent Diana Burke to us,” the old druid said. “She was to be one of us, and one of the clan. In my pride I didnae see it. I spoke against her, and I forced her to leave. Tonight we saw her as she went willingly to her death, that this clansman and the McDonnels might live.”
“No,” Kinley said to Lachlan. “Don’t let them make Raen undead. Diana wouldn’t have wanted that.”
There were murmurs from the warriors all around.
“We’ll make no more undead,” Cailean said, raising a hand for silence. He turned to Bhaltair. “Master?”
The old druid nodded solemnly and turned his grim face toward Raen.
“Will you share your life with her, Tharaen Aber, and help us heal her?” Bhaltair asked.
Raen looked down at Diana’s pale face. “Yes.”
As Bhaltair murmured the words of an ancient spell, all of the druids did the same. They bowed down and placed their hands in the water, and Lachlan felt their power saturate the air. The sea before them filled with golden light, growing brighter as it encircled and then engulfed Raen and Diana.
“Oh, my god,” Kinley whispered as Raen’s battered face began to heal, and the wound on Diana’s arm sealed itself. “Oh, Lachlan.”
Brilliant light like the brightest stars danced along their skins. As it flared Diana coughed and sputtered, and her eyes slowly opened.
Raen gaped down at her, smiling past the tears that brimmed in his wide eyes. Then he hugged her fiercely as the teardrops began to fall.
As Kinley quietly wept, Lachlan held her to his side.
“Tharaen Aber and Diana McDonnel,” Bhaltair intoned. “Now you are two souls made one, and you shall never die.”
As foamy waves splashed around them, Diana watched the last of Raen’s wounds heal. “What happened?”
“What didnae?” he said with a laugh. He gently set her on her feet and brushed her wet hair back from her face. “I nearly died in the pit, and then you made yourself bait and lured the undead away. Lachlan told me you threw yourself off a cliff into the sea, and all the undead followed, you reckless wench.”
“But it worked,” she said, grinning. “I saved you, you saved me, and now I’m immortal. Good thing the druids showed up.”
“Aye.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “But the druids didnae raise you from the dead as they did Kinley. They shared my immortal soul with you. I will have to be nice to them now. Come here.”
She laughed as she launched herself at him, encircling his neck with her arms as she kissed him with all the joy and love flooding through her.
“You know what this means,” she said, touching her brow to his. “You’re really stuck with me. We can never break up because I’ll always be around, forever. You sure you’re up for that?”
“Well, if it doesnae work with us, there is always Tormod,” he said. “I find him handsome, in the Viking way, and you have seen how he cannae conceal his passion for me.” He laughed as she thumped on his chest. “Now I have made you jealous. Good. Now come.” He scooped her up in his strong arms. “Our clan awaits us.”
Raen carried her out of the waves onto the shore, where he set her down to clasp arms with their clansmen. Tormod stalked over to her and shouted in his native tongue words that didn’t sound like “welcome back” to Diana. Then he glanced down, tore off his cloak and covered her with it.
“I cannae beat you myself,” the Viking said, “but I will persuade Aber to do so. Regularly if you cannae remember your clothes. And I will watch.”
Diana found herself being hugged until her ribs nearly cracked, and then chuckled as the Norseman stalked off. To Raen she said, “He might be more into me, actually.” As Cailean came to join them she felt like slapping him, but instead forced a smile before she asked Raen, “Is everyone okay? Any casualties?”
“Naught but us, lass.” He reached up to touch her cheek, which tingled oddly, and then he regarded the young druid. “You did this for her, but it saved me as well. Thank you.”
Cailean shook his head. “’Twas no’ my doing, Seneschal. Master Flen brought the others here after I spoke for Diana.” He glanced over at the old druid, who was talking with Lachlan. “Only a master as wise as he can perform such magic.” To Diana he said, “I am glad you are returned to us, Lieutenant.”
“Me, too,” she said as she surveyed her lover. “You look better than the last time I saw you.” She rubbed at her tingling face, and then felt the tiny striations on her skin. “Uh-oh. Is this what I think it is?”
“You’ve been marked again,” Raen said and showed her the jag of ink on her other palm, that now marked either side of the long, thin scar that stretched from her elbow to wrist. It continued up and over her shoulder and onto her neck and face. “We share a soul now, so my spirit has claimed you for itself.”
“We match,” Diana said, tracing the ink and smiling as she felt it move under her finger tips. “Boy, are you in trouble the minute we’re alone.”
The big man caught her face between his hands, and kissed her as the other McDonnels cheered them on. When he lifted his head he said, “Than
k you for my life. I love you. And if you ever do that again, I am chaining you to my bed for the rest of eternity.”
She eyed the cliffs. “It would definitely be worth it.” Seeing who was approaching them, she drew back. “I need to talk to Bhaltair—alone. Okay?”
Raen gave the old druid a hard look, but nodded and walked up to join the clan.
“Mistress McDonnel,” Bhaltair said and bowed to her. “I am happy you are come back to us.”
“You are the unhappiest guy in Scotland right now, Master Flen, and it’s because of these.” She tapped the corner of her eye. “The woman you loved had the same color eyes. Cailean told me. She left you for a mortal who got her pregnant, right?”
Bhaltair stiffened. “’Twas a long time ago, and it doesnae have anything to do with you. Please refrain from meddling, Mistress. You are clan now.”
“I’m kind of a meddler, and I’m also druid. My eye color is very rare, even in my time, so it’s also possible that I’m your first love’s descendent.” Diana leaned closer. “And if I am, that means I’m yours, too. The laird told me that two mortals can’t have a druid baby. If that woman is my ancestor, then you were the father of her child.”
“Aye,” he finally said, and instead of seeming shocked he gave her a sad smile. “You are my blood. The first moment I saw you, I felt it, and then realized what Yana had done.”
Diana felt a little taken aback. “Why didn’t you say anything to me?”
“What could I have told you? That she took my child from me, and raised it as his? That it broke my heart so badly that I never wed or had children in any of my other incarnations?” He cleared his throat. “That was why I wished you gone. I couldnae bear to look upon you. You are every reason that I am a fool.”
“Why? She did this, not you.” When he hung his head she said, “Look, if I’m your blood, then you’re mine. You’re my family, Master Flen. I’ve never had that, and I want you to be a part of this new life you’ve given me.” Diana smiled a little. “Would it help if I call you Grandpa?”
“Gods save me, no,” he said quickly. He took her hand and brought her knuckles to his lips. “I will be friend and kin to you, Diana, and if you are ever in need of a proud and silly old man, then I am yours to command.”
He walked with her up to where Raen was waiting, and handed her off to him with a stern look.
“You should ken that Diana is my blood kin, Seneschal. I willnae see her dishonored by a man who enjoys her affections, but doesnae have the right to them.” As they both stared at him he smiled primly. “You will wed her as soon as can be arranged, or I shall find another pit of undead, and push you in it myself.”
The big man grinned. “Aye, sir.”
“Don’t I get a say in this?’ Diana asked, and held up her hands as both men glowered at her. “Okay, yes, I’ll marry him.” She went into her lover’s arms, and sighed with delight against his chest. “Let’s go home.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
SEVEN DAYS LATER Cailean sat in a corner of the great hall at Dun Aran and watched the hungry clansmen attack the platters of food that Meg Talley and her maids had set out for the wedding feast. Neac manned the taps of the whiskey and ale bottles, while Tormod was demonstrating a Viking dance that entailed a great deal of jumping, chest-pounding, and snatching off the caps of the maids and tossing them in the air.
In the center of it all stood Diana and Raen, dressed in fine clothes, their faces bright with their sparkling skinwork, and their love for each other.
Bhaltair came and handed him a tankard of ale before he sat down beside him. “She is returned, and saved, and wed. She even claims me as blood kin, which is probably unwise, given how stupit I have been, but I am proud to call her mine.” He waited, and when Cailean did not reply he said, “All has been mended, Ovate Lusk. You must speak to me now, or take for yourself another master.”
“Kinley is mine,” Cailean said. When he felt his master stiffen, he smiled. “No’ my lover. My blood kin. I’ve ken it since the night we resurrected her in the grove. I felt her soul return from the loch of stars.”
The old druid gave him a sharp look. “But you told me that you havenae sired any bairns.”
“I was with the countess when her family died of plague,” Cailean said calmly. “Her match to Gordon was done quickly to provide for the two clans. When I left I didnae ken she was already carrying a child.” He met his master’s gaze. “The son she will bear is mine.”
“Kinley and Diana have naught to do with our plan,” Bhaltair protested.
“These women crossing over, they are not come to us by chance.” Cailean looked at the laird’s wife, and felt again the tug of their kinship. “I think them part of the Great Design, a part we didnae plan.”
Bhaltair made a gesture for silence as one of the clansmen passed in front of them. “You will have to go before the conclave about this. The farseers must be consulted.”
“When we return, I shall,” Cailean said and nodded at the women. “What about them?”
“Two are not enough to prove anything,” the old druid said. “If more come, then we will revisit the notion. But let us not debate this today, lad. Today we celebrate a wrong made right, and a love that will endure.”
“You, speaking of love,” Cailean mused as he eyed his tankard. “How much whiskey have they given you?”
“No’ enough,” Bhaltair said as he gazed fondly at Diana. “I think she has my nose from my first incarnation. And mayhap my shoulders. I had good, strong shoulders in that life, you know.”
“Aye,” Cailean replied and took a drink and sighed. “And we will need them when the next of our daughters arrives.”
THE END
• • • • •
Another Immortal Highlander awaits you in Evander (Immortal Highlander Book 3).
For a sneak peek, turn the page.
Sneak Peek
Evander (Immortal Highlander Book 3)
Excerpt
Rachel Ingram walked out onto the garden balcony overlooking the swimming pavilion, where her father’s infinity pool spread like a lake suspended in the air. Beyond it his beloved red gum eucalyptus trees climbed the curves of the estate’s rolling green hills. They provided an illusion of privacy, as if all the world belonged to Avalon. Sometimes, looking out at the pristine grounds beneath the porcelain blue sky, it seemed as if it did.
In Rancho Santa Fe, one of America’s wealthiest towns, all of the residents wanted that illusion. In the Covenant, the most exclusive neighborhood within its boundaries, they got it.
A hundred acres beyond the Ingrams’ treasured old trees and high, sculpted hedges lay other immense estate houses belonging to their billionaire neighbors. No one went to the tech mogul’s smart mansion to ask for a spare charger, or to the self-help guru’s opulent villa to borrow a cup of sugar. That was simply not done. Plenty of neighbors went to the Olympic gold medalist’s gaudy shrine to himself and his sport, but he was more of a sociable guy.
“He’s holding another party in that over-sized frat house,” Sheldon Ingram had often complained to his wife and daughter. “I can hear them rolling the kegs from here.”
Rachel smelled the airy sweetness of her mother’s white roses, and glanced over hundreds of blooms draping the loggia. Her parents’ lounge chairs still sat beside the old stone table that Beatrice Ingram had fallen in love with during their European honeymoon. Her father had secretly shipped it from Scotland to present it to his wife on their first anniversary, along with Avalon.
A few withered petals had fallen on the massive slab of green-streaked granite, which now looked like a toppled tombstone overgrown with moss.
The scent of a familiar, leathery cologne drifted around her as quiet footsteps approached, and she braced herself against the railing.
“Good morning, Paul.”
“I’m so sorry to disturb you, Rachel.” Her parents’ attorney came to join her, his sober suit fitted as if he’d been born with
navy silk as an outer shell. “How are you feeling?”
She wanted to tell him that she’d spent the morning throwing up, but he didn’t need to hear that.
“I’m all right, I guess.”
“I thought I’d stop in and see if you’d come to a decision about the estate.” His smile turned slightly uneasy. “I understand how difficult this must be for you, but the buyer is hoping for an answer on their offer soon.”
Difficult? Rachel frowned. Avalon had killed her parents. She had to sell it, only because no one would let her bulldoze it into the ground. But she couldn’t say that to Paul Carver. Deliberately destroying a multi-million dollar mansion instead of selling it wasn’t acceptable, and in a few hours Paul would be her father-in-law.
No one wanted crazy in the family.
“I can’t deal with the sale today,” she said. “David and I are going into the city to get married. Then we’re going to drive up and spend the weekend at the beach house.” She hated how dreary she sounded, talking about her wedding as if it were a dental appointment. Since the funerals she felt so exhausted and depressed, and sometimes just getting out of bed took all her strength. “I’m sorry.”
“Keeping it simple is probably best,” the attorney said quickly. He agreed with everything she said but, now that she had inherited the Ingram fortune, everyone except David was doing that. “Call me when you get back in town, and then we’ll talk.” He touched her shoulder before he retreated inside the mansion.
A few minutes later the purring sound of a Rolls came from the front of the house, and Rachel watched as the man who would be her father-in-law sped down the long curving drive, pausing only for security to open the gates.
For once Paul’s behavior actually registered as odd to her. It seemed as if he couldn’t get away from her and Avalon fast enough, and she wondered why. Her father had made Paul a very wealthy man, and Rachel was marrying his son. Maybe he didn’t want her to, or he simply didn’t like her. Yet when she’d told him they were getting married, she’d felt his relief as surely as if he’d voiced it.