by Donna Grant
“Tell him,” Quinn ground out as he stormed into the hall from the kitchens.
Lucan sighed and turned to his brothers. Once the great hall of MacLeod Castle had been full of people and beautiful tapestries. Candelabras had given light, and weapons from ancestors had adorned the walls. All that was left of the hall now was a primitive table with two benches and three chairs he had built, placed now before the hearth.
After they had reclaimed the castle, he and Fallon had fixed the roof over them so the rain wouldn’t get in. That was before Fallon had turned to the wine. Lucan gazed at his elder brother and wished he had the answers for all of them.
Quinn’s face darkened, his skin turning black as the god yearned to be free. “Tell him.”
“For God’s sake, Lucan, just tell me,” Fallon said wearily, and raked a hand through his tousled dark brown hair. His hair used to streak with gold when he spent time outdoors. Now it was the same dark brown as their mother’s, his eyes green like their father’s, but darker, like the ferns that grew in the forest.
Lucan blew out a breath. “I let my god out.”
If there was anything that could clear Fallon’s eyes, it was that. They had learned very early on that the god inside them would do anything to be set free and anger only made it more powerful. They couldn’t control themselves when the god was loose, which was one of the reasons Fallon turned to the wine.
For Lucan, he had wanted to be the one in control. So he had spent decades learning to master his god. It had been more difficult than Lucan had imagined, and many times he had almost given up and turned to the bottle as Fallon did. But only the love of his brothers, and Lucan’s need to make things right, kept him going. The day he had learned he could be in control of when he let the god out and when he didn’t had been a glorious one.
But he hadn’t been able to tell his brothers.
Fallon sat straighter and set aside the bottle of wine. “You did what?”
“The girl was about to plummet to her death. I had no choice.”
Quinn punched the wall next to him, his fist going through the stones. When he pulled his hand out, his nails had lengthened into claws and his pale green eyes went black. “You had a choice. You could have let her die. We cannot let anyone know we’re here. Isn’t that what you tell me night after night?”
“Lucan,” Fallon said with a shake of his head, his voice soft. “What have you done?”
“I’m still the man I was,” Lucan said in his defense. “Before we became . . . as we are, I couldn’t let another die, and I won’t do it now. We’ve sat here, hiding in this crumbling ruin of our home, for over two hundred years as we’ve fought any Warriors and wyrran that dared to come near us. How much longer do you think we can continue to fight? We were lucky. We escaped, and we’ve managed to keep away from her ever since.”
Quinn’s shoulders dropped and he sighed. His eyes returned to green and the claws disappeared. “I hate to admit it, but maybe Lucan is right. I refuse to go back into that prison, Fallon.”
“Nay,” Fallon said, and rose to his feet. He swayed slightly and held on to the table to steady himself. “I told you both that we’re in no position to fight her. You’ve both done it anyway.”
Lucan hated talking about her. Deirdre had been the one who had ordered their clan murdered. Deirdre had been the one to summon them to Cairn Toul mountain. Deirdre had been the one who had unleashed the god within them. Deirdre, a woman so beautiful she could make angels sing, but with a heart as black as Satan.
“I’m a Warrior, Fallon. Deirdre turned us into this monster, and though I refuse to join her, I also refuse to sit by and let her evil take over Scotland. You know we are stronger when we all three fight together. We could do so much more damage to Deirdre if you would but join us.”
Fallon shrugged. “Join you? Nay, Brother, I think not. Our fate was sealed the moment Deirdre spoke that spell.”
“You’ve just given up then? On everything?” Quinn looked from Fallon to Lucan. “I always hated how you nagged me as a lad about doing the right thing, Fallon, and now you won’t.”
Fallon scratched his chin in need of a shave. “There isna much you do like, little brother. You both know, as well as I, she will take us eventually. We’re just putting off the inevitable.”
“I’ll fight to the end. I won’t go back into that mountain,” Lucan said.
Fallon slashed his hand through the air. “None of that is important right now. The girl in your bed is.”
The image of the girl, her head thrown back and her dark hair spread around her as she writhed naked beneath him, flashed in Lucan’s mind. He bit back a groan and shifted to help ease the cockstand he’d had since she first landed in his arms.
“I’ll take her to the village tonight,” Quinn said.
Lucan stepped forward, the fury quick and strong within him. He didn’t understand his need to protect the woman, only that he needed to. It wasn’t just his hunger to touch her, but something that went much deeper. “She has magic about her,” he confessed. When Quinn didn’t back down, Lucan felt his god stir. “You won’t touch her.”
Quinn’s eyes turned black—even the whites of his eyes went obsidian. Ever since the god had been unleashed, each time he came out, they turned black. Quinn peeled back his lips to show his fangs and let his claws lengthen once more.
“Stop it, Quinn,” Fallon’s voice filled the hall. “I forbid us to fight. We did enough of that in the early days.”
It was a good thing they healed quickly, because each of them would bear untold scars after the fights they’d had when they had been unable to control the beast. While the rest of Scotland tore apart the MacLeod land, the brothers ripped into one another, again and again.
Fallon’s gaze landed on Lucan. “Magic? Are you sure?”
“Positive. It’s not strong, but it’s there.”
“What do you plan to do with her?”
In truth, Lucan had no idea. He knew what he wanted to do to her in his bed, but that was one chance he couldn’t—and wouldn’t—take. “She doesn’t know anything about us.”
“She’ll know she’s in the castle. We’ve done a good job of keeping people out, but I don’t know how much longer that can last. Especially if the girl tells everyone there are no ghosts inside the castle.”
Lucan and Quinn had cultivated the idea of ghosts and monsters to keep people away. With Quinn’s howls and his claws scraping the stones it had been easy to frighten everyone.
“I can take her now,” Lucan said. “I’d rather not, though. The storm hasn’t let up, and she was already chilled. Besides, I want to know where the magic is coming from.”
Quinn shook his head, his mass of light brown hair moving with his head to brush his shoulders. “She needs to go. Now.”
“Or what?” Lucan demanded. “You’ll hurt her?”
“I won’t have her jeopardize what we’ve spent years building, magic or not,” Quinn snarled.
“Lucan,” Fallon said.
Lucan ignored Fallon and laughed at Quinn. “We don’t have anything but a falling-down ruin of a castle.”
“It’s ours, though,” Quinn said through clenched teeth. “She’ll destroy it all. I refuse to allow that.”
“You won’t touch her,” Lucan stated, ready to let the god out again if he had to.
“Lucan!”
He jerked his head to Fallon to find him staring to his right. Lucan followed his elder brother’s gaze and found the girl standing on the stairs, her large eyes staring at Lucan with a mixture of terror and distrust.
The gown Lucan had laid out for her had belonged to Quinn’s wife. It was centuries out of date, but it fit her well enough. The girl’s eyes were rounded and riveted on Lucan, as if she was afraid to shift her gaze. Her face was still pale, though her lips were no longer blue.
Lucan took a step toward her. He knew he needed to keep his distance, but she was here because of him. Despite what he and his brothers were,
they wouldn’t hurt her, and he needed to make sure she knew that.
“She didn’t dare,” Quinn said, and started toward the girl.
Before he could get past, Lucan grabbed Quinn by his tunic and brought him up short. “Leave her.”
“She’s wearing Elspeth’s gown!”
Lucan glanced at the girl to find she had taken a step back on the stairs, her hands spread on the stones on her right. The stairs weren’t well fortified. She could fall and hurt herself. She was mortal, after all.
“I gave her the gown,” Lucan said as he turned back to his brother and growled.
With one last look at the girl, Quinn jerked out of Lucan’s hands and stalked away. It was only after he glanced at Fallon to find his face pale and guarded that Lucan realized Quinn hadn’t controlled the god within him. The beast had been visible.
Shite!
How did one explain the unexplainable?
Lucan swallowed and unclenched his hands, realizing too late that his nails had elongated. Had his eyes changed? His skin? She hadn’t run away screaming, but her gaze had darted to the door several times.
He walked slowly to the stairs, not wanting to frighten her any more than she already was. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Fallon shift toward her.
Her knuckles were white from grasping the wall. One bare foot peeked from beneath her skirts. The stones were always cool, and in this weather exceedingly so. If she wasn’t careful, she would become ill.
Lucan let his gaze roam over her, noting how the gown accentuated her large breasts and narrow waist. Her neck was slender, graceful, while tendrils of damp hair curled about her face. He wished he had thought to loosen her hair. He would love to see it fall about her shoulders and run his hands through the thick mass.
“I fell,” she said all of a sudden. Her voice was soft, barely a whisper in the storm that howled around them. Her gaze flicked to Fallon before returning to Lucan.
Lucan would have to think fast. She had fainted, so she didn’t realize what had happened. “I caught you. Remember?”
Her brows furrowed and she shook her head. Her dark eyes regarded him steadily, not accepting his lie. “Nay. I slipped from your grasp. I fell.”
“And I caught you,” Fallon said. “We saw you from the castle and hurried to help. I climbed down the cliff in case Lucan wasn’t able to hold you.”
Lucan could see in her gaze that she wanted to believe them, but doubt lingered in her gorgeous mahogany eyes. Especially after she had witnessed Quinn’s transformation.
“I’m Lucan,” he said. He used to be able to charm anyone, but it had been years since he had tried. “That is my elder brother, Fallon.”
Fallon gave Lucan a shuttered look. It hadn’t occurred to him that they might want to give different names. The story of what had happened to them had never died down. It had turned into a legend that was likely to stay around forever.
“Lucan?” she repeated. “Fallon?”
Lucan could see her mind working through it, realizing that not only were some people in a castle that was supposedly deserted, but they also had the same names as in the legend.
Lucan cursed inwardly. It was unlike him to be so careless. With Fallon always inebriated and Quinn unable to control his rage, it had been left up to Lucan to take care of everything. He had never failed them.
Until now.
He motioned to the chair near the fire. “Come. Warm yourself.”
When she didn’t move, he backed away from the stairs to give her room. “You have nothing to fear from us.”
“Then who removed my clothes?”
Lucan glanced away, but not before he saw Fallon raise a brow. “You were soaked through. I dinna wish for you to catch a chill.”
She shuddered at his words, and again he motioned to the fire. Thunder boomed around them, shaking the very ground. It propelled her down the stairs and in front of the roaring fire, though.
With her back to the flames, she regarded the brothers. She kept herself stiff, like a cornered animal waiting for an attack. “Am I to be kept here?”
Fallon rolled his eyes and reached for the wine as he once more took his seat at the table, murmuring something that sounded like “wenches.”
Lucan shook his head. “I would have returned you to the village, but with the storm I thought it better to get you out of the weather.”
“Then I can leave now?”
It took everything Lucan had not to shout nay. Instead, he clasped his hands behind his back and gave a quick jerk of his head. “If you wish to brave the weather.”
“Your accent is . . . different.” Her head was cocked to the side, her braid falling over her shoulder to tease the bottom of her breast.
He forgot to breathe as his rod swelled. He could imagine palming her breasts, pinching her nipples until they were hard little nubs. Then he would wrap his lips around them, suckling them until she cried out his name.
“. . . isn’t that right, Lucan?”
He jerked and turned to find Fallon staring at him. His mind had been so preoccupied with thoughts of the girl he hadn’t heard a word his brother had said.
Fallon blew out a breath. “Food.”
“Aye. Food.” Lucan stalked off to the kitchens before he made a bigger idiot of himself.
Who knew a wisp of a girl with chestnut hair and mahogany eyes could turn his blood to boiling and his body hard with just a look?
CHAPTER THREE
Cara’s mind reeled. MacLeod Castle. She racked her brain for what had happened to bring her here.
She remembered staring at the ruins, entranced with them. Almost as if they had called to her, beckoned her. Then she had taken off her necklace because it had burned her.
The wind had snatched it from her hand, but she had managed to grab it. She remembered feeling the soft ground shift beneath her, then give way before she could move to safety.
Then she’d stopped. When she had looked up it was to find . . . Lucan. He had held her by one arm, struggling to keep her from falling while his sea green eyes begged her to hold on. She had slipped from his grasp; of that she was certain.
The horror of falling, knowing she would hit the rocks below and die, still made her heart pound in her chest. But she didn’t remember anything after seeing his eyes grow large as her hand slipped out of his.
Could his brother, Fallon was his name, have been below to catch her as he claimed? It was the only explanation, but a part of her continued to be wary.
The men were keeping something from her. It was an odd feeling of certainty, the same type of feeling she’d had over the past few weeks as if someone watched her.
There was a roar that was immediately drowned out by thunder, but there was no mistaking the sound. She jumped and scooted closer to the fire.
The image of the other man who had become angry at seeing her in the gown flashed in her mind. Had it been a trick of the candles, or had his teeth elongated?
She glanced at the door, wondering if she could make it. They had told her she wasn’t a prisoner, but she wasn’t sure how much to believe.
“We won’t stop you.”
She looked to find Fallon with his elbows on the table and a bottle of wine in his grip. His hair was the color of freshly tilled earth, dark and thick. He was handsome enough with his strong jaw and wide, firm lips, but it was his dark green eyes that bespoke pain silent and profound.
He gestured to the door, his gaze not moving from the bottle. “Leave.”
“I’m not safe here, then?”
He chuckled and lifted the bottle to his lips. He drank deeply and shrugged. “Lucan won’t let anything happen to you. He’s the best of us. I don’t know what’s worse, though, the storm or staying here.”
Despite the fact that Fallon was inebriated, she saw the truth of his words in his eyes when he glanced at her. Fear snaked down her spine. Her necklace, which she’d found in her hand, vibrated beneath her gown between her breasts. It had never don
e that before, but it made her distinctly aware of her surroundings.
Who were these men? Was it mere coincidence they had two of the same names as the brothers of the MacLeod legend? Was the third named Quinn?
Did she really want to know?
Angus had told her monsters resided in the castle. It could be the old man had known far more than he had been willing to say.
Cara squeezed her toes together. Her feet were like ice on the bare stones, but she hadn’t been able to find her shoes or stockings when she raced from the chamber. The storm was fierce, but she should be able to make it back to the village.
In the dark? Alone?
She inwardly cringed at the fear that always took hold of her when night fell. She took a step to the door, the light from the fire and the candelabras making her hesitate. When Fallon did nothing but look at her, she took another step. Her hand was upon the latch to open the door when Lucan walked into the hall, a platter of food in his hand.
His gaze locked with hers as he froze. She licked her lips and realized her chances of getting free were slim. And it was the longing and loneliness she saw in his green eyes that gave her pause.
Lucan was tall and broad shouldered, a wall of solid muscle and rippling with sex appeal. He was gorgeous and dangerously powerful. His tunic did nothing to hide his muscular chest, which tapered to a narrow waist, then to long legs that bulged with muscles encased in brown breeches. His ebony locks fell past his shoulders in waves, and he wore a single small braid on either side of his temples like the warriors of old.
At the collar of his dark green tunic she saw the thick gold torc around his neck. He didn’t wear a kilt or any tartan that would tell which clan they belonged to, which was odd. Any Highlander, and these men were most certainly Highlanders, always wore his tartan.
Her heart skipped a beat when she let herself really look into Lucan’s face. He had dark brows that slashed over eyes thickly fringed with black lashes. His nose was slightly bent from a break, but it paled in comparison to his mouth. Lips full and wide parted, then tilted down in a frown. A tremor shivered through her as she wondered what it would feel like kissing those lips.