by Donna Grant
“Without a doubt, he’s the best.”
She raised her gaze to Fallon. “He . . . he fears disappointing or failing either of you. He keeps much hidden in order to keep the three of you together.”
Fallon’s brow furrowed. “What does he keep hidden?”
“His feelings, his wishes, his desires.”
Fallon sighed and reached to the floor where he had set his wine bottle. He lifted it to his lips and drank deeply. “We’ve made a muck of things, haven’t we?”
“You’ve done the best you could with what you had.” Cara rose. She had thought she wanted company, but Fallon dug too deep into her own feelings. “I’m going to walk around.”
“Be careful. There are places in the castle that aren’t safe.”
She nodded. “I will.”
Lucan dropped his head back against the stones after Cara left the great hall. He had taken a spot near the ceiling, deep in the shadows where another stairway used to be leading to a different part of the castle that was now rubble.
He hadn’t realized Cara had seen all of them for exactly what they were. Her words had put things into perspective. However, he still didn’t trust himself to be alone with her.
Alone? You wouldn’t even eat with her and Fallon. God help him it was true. He would want to sit near her, smell the heather on her skin, but if he did, he would want to touch her. And that he couldn’t do. Not ever again.
He glanced down at Fallon to find him watching him.
“You might as well come and eat now,” Fallon said.
Lucan shook his head. “I’m going to check on Quinn. Keep an eye on her.”
He didn’t wait for Fallon to answer; Lucan trusted his brother to keep Cara safe. Lucan jumped to the floor and strode from the great hall. Quinn had been gone too long.
Quinn hid behind one of the cottages and listened to the men talking. Twenty more MacClures had arrived and set about gathering the bodies. They were discussing burying them or burning them. Since there were about fifty bodies, the vote was leaning toward burning.
He heard movement behind him and glanced over his shoulder to see Lucan moving slowly over the grass toward him.
“What are they doing?” Lucan asked.
Quinn shrugged. “Mostly muttering about wanting to find the bastards that did this,” he whispered. “I wonder if we looked as they do when we found our clan.”
“You mean appalled, angry, shocked, and bitter? Aye, Brother, I’m sure we looked just as they do.”
“Deirdre got perverse pleasure out of it.”
Lucan snorted. “How something so beautiful could be so evil I’ll never understand.”
“I’ve never seen anyone with hair like hers,” Quinn said, remembering. “It hung to the floor and was as white as snow.”
“Aye. I remember. I also remember her choking me with it.”
Quinn grimaced. “I’d forgotten that. It’s like her magic can control her hair.”
“I know.”
Quinn almost grinned at Lucan’s dry tone. He hadn’t been himself since he’d brought Cara into the castle. Quinn had caught his brother watching Cara, his gaze steady, as if he was trying to memorize every detail. He should tell Lucan not to bother, that it didn’t work, but decided to hold his tongue.
“Who is that?” Lucan asked.
Quinn leaned to the side to see who Lucan meant. When Quinn saw the petite woman with hair as black as pitch he shrugged. “She hasna said a word. She arrived with them, yet no one speaks to her and few look in her direction.”
“She doesn’t look scared.”
“She doesn’t look comfortable, either,” Quinn said. “I’m not sure what her role is.”
Lucan gave his chin a jerk. “Is the tall, barrel-chested man the MacClure laird?”
“Aye.”
“Maybe she’s his wife.”
Quinn watched them for a moment. “He makes sure she stays close to him, but he won’t touch her. It’s almost as if he’s afraid of her. An odd way for a man to treat a wife.”
Lucan only grunted in response.
Quinn was used to Lucan’s quiet ways. He’d always been the thinker of them, the one who waited and watched and formulated a plan, the one with a steady head, a cool temper. It stood to reason that he would be the one to keep them together as well as master the god inside him.
Quinn had always envied Lucan’s control over his emotions. But not even Quinn’s calm brother could hide the fact that something disturbed him, and Quinn knew that something had chestnut hair, dark eyes, and waited in the castle.
“What?” Lucan growled when he caught Quinn staring at him.
Quinn shook his head. “Nothing. Who’s watching Cara?”
“Fallon.”
But Quinn had seen Lucan jerk at the mention of her name. Aye, Cara distressed Lucan, and Quinn found he enjoyed it. It was about time Lucan felt something. For far too long he had kept himself locked inside.
“Fallon will watch her,” Lucan said after a moment. “I trust him with that.”
“What about when the Warriors come? Deirdre may well come herself.”
Lucan sighed and ran a hand down his face. “Fallon won’t let the god out.”
“We’ll be stronger with all three of us. Even you know that.”
“I know,” Lucan agreed. “But you must understand Fallon’s fear.”
Quinn pulled his gaze away, his anger rising to the surface. He felt his claws lengthen, his teeth sharpen. It was always the same fury every time he thought of Fallon refusing to do what could help them most.
As much as Quinn wanted to smash his fist into something, they had to stay quiet as they watched. So he turned his attention, and thoughts, back to the MacClures. “They’re going to burn the bodies.”
“Aye.”
They sat and listened as the MacClure laird drew his men around him. The laird’s voice was deep and forceful. Lucan and Quinn didn’t have to move from their spot behind the cottages to hear that MacClure was sending his men to question other clans about the death of the village.
“This land is cursed,” one man said. “The MacLeods were massacred on it. Right there at the castle.”
Every eye turned to look at the castle. Even Quinn found his gaze pulled to the ruins of his home. There was no movement in the remains, nothing that would draw the MacClures’ interest.
“Calm yourself, Allan,” the laird growled. “The land isn’t cursed. Don’t be spreading lies.”
Allan shook his head and took a step back. “It is, laird. Why else would a village on the land that used to be the great MacLeods’ die the same way as the MacLeods?”
“We don’t know if it’s the same. The MacLeod massacre is a legend.”
“A legend that begins in truth,” the woman said.
Her straight black hair, unbraided and unadorned, lifted in the constant breeze from the sea. She let her gaze travel the circle of men.
“What are you saying, Isla?” the laird demanded.
Quinn nudged Lucan with his hand. “I’ve seen her before.”
“In the village?” Lucan asked.
“Nay. Before, Lucan.”
It didn’t take long for him to realize Quinn spoke of a time before the god had been unbound.
Lucan’s lips thinned. “Where?”
“I cannot remember.”
“Are you sure you’re not recalling a woman that looked like her? Many women have black hair.”
Quinn nodded. He’d caught but a glimpse of her face, but in that moment he had been sure. “Aye, but do many have eyes so pale a blue?”
Lucan’s gaze snapped to the woman. He shifted and moved between two of the cottages to get closer.
Quinn hurried to follow him. He couldn’t remember where he had seen Isla, but he knew he had. If only he could remember where. And when.
Isla turned her face, devoid of any expression, to the MacClure laird. “I’m saying Allan is correct. The MacLeods were executed here. Just as
your people were.”
The MacClure laird fisted his hands, and Quinn didn’t know if he would hit Isla or not. “Enough.”
“To send your men out is foolhardy,” Isla continued as though she hadn’t heard him. “Keep them close, laird.”
Quinn stopped Lucan when he would have gotten closer. Isla turned and walked away from the group of men. She halted midstride and suddenly turned and looked over her shoulder at the castle, and for the first time there was a hint of emotion on her face.
It was hatred.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Cara jerked away from the window, her hand at her throat. The raven-haired woman had seen Cara; of that she was sure. A shudder went through Cara, for she was certain the woman held malice in her gaze.
“Cara?”
She jumped at the sound of Fallon’s voice.
“What are you doing up here? Lucan will have my head if you harm yourself.”
She couldn’t tear her gaze from the black-headed woman, her long, straight locks blowing in the wind.
Fallon navigated the broken stones and wood and grasped Cara’s arm. “Cara.”
“Look, Fallon,” she said, and pointed.
He glanced out the window and swore under his breath. “Did she see you?”
“Aye.”
“How?”
Cara tore her gaze from the woman. “I don’t know. I kept to the shadows. I just wanted to see what was going on at the village. I didn’t make a sound, didn’t move.”
“I believe you. Do you know that woman?”
“I’ve never seen her before in my life, but there was something . . . familiar about her.”
Fallon’s dark green eyes narrowed on Cara. “Don’t come up here again. You could fall through the boards.”
“I was very careful.”
Cara turned to look back at the way she had come. It had been much easier crossing the rubble on her way to the window since most of the stones acted as steps of sorts. Then there had been the board that she had walked over. Her gaze had been on the village, so she hadn’t noticed the gaping hole the board covered or how far down she would fall if she slipped.
“Lucan is going to rip my head off,” Fallon mumbled beneath his breath.
She had been more than confident in her ability to climb over the rocks in her haste to get to the window. Now she wasn’t so sure about getting back.
“Is there another way?”
Fallon shook his head. “This is it.”
“I see.”
“Let me go first so I can make sure everything is stable before you cross.”
Cara nodded, not at all ready to walk over the gap. She had never been afraid of heights, but after her fall over the cliff she had a new appreciation for them.
Fallon walked over the thick board, his arms outstretched. If it had been Lucan, he would have jumped over the gap. But Fallon wouldn’t let his god free for even that.
There was a loud crack in the silence. Cara froze, her gaze on the wood. Fallon stilled for a heartbeat, then jumped to the other side. He landed in the rocks, his boots sliding in the wreckage toward the hole. His hands gripped stones in the pile as he hastened to stop slipping.
When he righted himself, he checked the board and nodded. “It’s secure.”
“Is it going to break?”
He licked his lips and held out his hand. “The hole isn’t that big. Get to the center, and I can grab your hand and pull you over.”
It sounded like a good plan except for the fact that she had to get to the center without the wood breaking. She had faced the dark. She could do this.
She placed one foot on the board. After a deep breath, she put her other foot in front of the first.
“Good,” Fallon said, and smiled at her.
“You are really quite handsome when you smile.”
He chuckled. “Is that so? Are you saying I should smile more?”
“I’m saying you should attempt it.”
“I’ll give it a try. Keep coming.”
She hadn’t realized she had taken several more steps until he said something, but she refused to stop now. Her legs shook, causing her to wobble.
“You’re going to make it,” Fallon said. “Look at me, Cara. Keep your eyes on me.”
She tried, but how would she know her feet weren’t staying on the board if she didn’t look at it? She glanced down and groaned when her gaze fell on the hole. It was a significant way down. Five levels to be exact.
“Cara,” Fallon called.
She lifted her gaze to him. She was nearly to the center. His outstretched hand was almost within her grasp. Just . . . a . . . few . . . more. . . .
She shrieked as the board gave a loud crack before it split. Cara felt herself falling, saw Fallon’s eyes widen. And just as suddenly as she had dropped, she was jerked to a stop. When she looked up into Lucan’s sea green eyes, she felt like crying.
“What in the name of all that is holy are you doing?” Lucan ground out.
He lifted her out of the gap and set her on her feet beside him. His arms wrapped around her, holding her close. She clung to him, her entire body shaking.
“That’s the second time I rescued you from a fall,” he whispered into her hair.
“I didn’t mean it,” she said, her face in his chest. “I just wanted to see the village.”
She heard stones sliding as Fallon moved over to them. “I came to get her,” he said.
“And you would have let her die!” Lucan bellowed.
“Nay,” Cara said, and put her hand on his chest as she pulled back. “Had I done what Fallon said, I would have been all right.”
“Had you done what I said, you would never have been up here,” Fallon argued.
She cut him a glare, then looked back at Lucan. “Thank you. Again.”
He gave her a curt nod and took her hand. He was tender as he helped her out of the chamber and down the corridor. All the while Fallon grumbled behind them about how the hallway should have been sealed off, but that even the village idiot would have known not to go up there.
Cara was duly chastised, and she was glad to have Lucan touching her again. It was the first she had seen of him all morning. She hadn’t realized how much she craved the sight of him until he wasn’t with her.
She clung to his hand and followed him to the great hall. But once there, he released her hand and stalked from the castle.
Cara looked behind her to Fallon, who was staring after Lucan as well. The realization that Lucan really didn’t want her, that she was just something else he could fix like his brothers, made her throat burn.
“It has been a long time since Lucan has had his life turned upside down,” Quinn said from the table. “I quite like this.”
“Quinn,” Fallon admonished as he walked past her. “Doona pay any heed to Quinn, Cara.”
She wrung her hands. Sister Abigail said idle hands were the devil’s work. “I need to do something.”
Quinn rose and unsheathed a dagger he kept in his boot. He handed it to her hilt first. “I was just about to skin and clean the deer.”
Cara took the dagger, grateful that she had something to do. “I’ll help.”
She and Quinn got to work quickly, and though her hands were busy, her mind wandered. To Lucan. She didn’t know much of men, but she had been sure Lucan desired her. It was there in the way he looked at her and in his kisses. At least, she had thought it was. Now she wasn’t sure of anything anymore.
Her life was in disarray again, all because of the Demon’s Kiss. Her mother’s blood. Her blood. What was so important about it? There was no one alive who could tell Cara the truth. She would have to carry her question with her until Deirdre found her.
For Cara had no doubt, despite Lucan’s efforts, that Deirdre would take her. To what end, Cara wasn’t sure.
Death most likely.
She dropped the dagger and looked at the blood that soaked her hands and forearms. “I need to leave.”
“I need to leave. Everywhere I go people die. My parents and now the village. If I stay here, you and your brothers will die as well.”
Quinn sat and regarded her. “We’re immortal, Cara.”
“But you can still die. Lucan told me that.”
Quinn’s lips twisted wryly. “And I’m sure Lucan told you your safest place is with us.”
“You have your own battle with Deirdre. You would still be safe had she not come looking for me.”
“Stay here, Cara. You have no idea what’s out in the world.”
She laughed, the sound brittle to her ears. “I had thought living in the nunnery and giving my life to God would keep me safe from the evil.”
“No one is safe. No one. The evil strikes where it will.”
She swallowed back tears. “You’re right, of course. I’m going to go wash the blood off.”
“Follow the path,” Quinn said as he pointed out the kitchen doorway. “It’ll lead you to the sea.”
How he knew she needed a moment alone she didn’t know. She gave him a nod and kept her pace slow as she left the kitchen. She didn’t want Quinn to know what she planned. Not yet anyway.
The path down to the sea was steep. Many times she had to grab hold of the rocks to keep from sliding as her feet came out from underneath her. It would be a dangerous climb back, but then she had no intentions of returning to the castle.
She had tried to tell Quinn, tried to make him understand. She couldn’t stay there. Not any longer. It wasn’t just her feelings for Lucan. It was because she didn’t want them to die. They had survived so much. They didn’t deserve death.
And she knew she couldn’t stay around Lucan and see his dismissal of her. It hurt too much.
Cara had never been to this part of the sea. No one had known about the path from the castle since no one went near the ruins, and with the cliffs the villagers had to go a different route when they wanted to fish. Which meant this bay had been kept isolated for three hundred years.
She knelt by the water and washed her hands. Her shoes and hem were soaked by the time she was done, but she didn’t care. Her mind was on a way to slip away unnoticed.