by Donna Grant
“Unfortunately, I’m not. I don’t know who was involved in the vote, but I wasn’t. On the way to Mairi’s, Braden said he and Fiona wished to stay, so I told Mairi. She wasn’t happy, but it was when I told her I wasn’t going that she really grew furious.”
“I’m sorry.”
She pulled apart some of the smoked fish and put it in her mouth. “The worst was when Isla brought Mairi a tray of food, and Mairi dismissed her as she would a servant. She was so hateful to Isla, telling her that she belonged in Hell with the other droughs.”
Galen grimaced as he used a dagger to cut the venison into smaller portions. “She’s lucky Hayden wasn’t there.”
“He was. He threatened to take Mairi to Deirdre himself if she continued. That’s when Mairi told me about my headache. As if she wanted me to believe everyone was keeping it from me.”
“I did want to keep it from you,” Galen confessed. “I know how worried you are about them.”
Reaghan placed her hand atop his forearm. “I appreciate it, but I’d much prefer the truth, as difficult as that truth may be to bear.”
THIRTY
Galen didn’t want to let Reaghan know how Mairi’s change in behavior worried him. He knew Reaghan wanted the truth about anything that occurred, but he decided to keep his worries to himself for the time being.
“I told Isla not to bring any more food to them,” Reaghan went on, unaware of Galen’s turmoil. “If they’re hungry, they can get their own meals.” He chuckled. “Good for you.”
“Mairi called you and the other Warriors animals,” she said softly.
“I’ve been called much worse. Doona let it trouble you.”
Reaghan shook her head, her lovely auburn curls falling over her shoulders. “That’s not like Mairi. Odara was in the chamber. She didn’t say a word, Galen. That’s not like her either. She’s always spoken her mind.” “They’ve left the only place they’ve ever known. It can be more than some people can grasp.”
“I may need your help in keeping Braden and Fiona here. I don’t think Mairi intends to allow them to stay.” Galen snorted as he raised the goblet to his lips and drank the dark wine within. “Mairi cannot make them go with her. The others and I will ensure that.” “Thank you.”
Charon stared at the remaining occupants of the tavern. He’d known better than to return to the village, but he’d been unable to help himself.
When he’d been here as a lad, the tavern had seemed a grand, forbidden place where all men gathered. Now, as he looked at it through a man’s eyes, he saw it was nothing special. Just a rundown building in need of repair.
It had been well over two hundred years since Charon had seen the tavern and the village, but not much had changed. The village had grown to a large size at one time, but now many of the buildings and shops showed neglect from abandonment.
The people, however, hadn’t changed at all. Oh, their clothes had altered, but they were still the poor, undignified, uneducated people they had been before.
There had only been one man who had stood out among this ragged lot, and that had been his father.
He’d been a great warrior, his father. His father would have handled the god inside him better than Charon. His father would have been able to stand against Deirdre. But more importantly, his father wouldn’t have broken under Deirdre’s torture.
“Ye want another ale?”
Charon looked up at the woman. She was pretty, if not a little haggard. She’d had a hard life, which showed in the lines about her face and the dark shadows under her eyes. She was still relatively young, which made him wonder why she was working in the tavern instead of tending to a husband.
“Aye,” he answered. “What is your name?”
“Evanna. Why do ye care?”
Charon shrugged. “Just curious. Have you lived here your entire life?”
She looked away, but not before he saw the wistfulness in her eyes. “Aye. I wanted to leave once, but life doesn’t always go as planned.” “No truer words have been spoken. Bring me another ale.”
As she sauntered off, a new swing to her hips, Charon leaned back in his chair. Their conversation had gained the interest of the two men nearest him.
“Ye passin’ through?” one of the men asked.
Charon glanced at the man’s kilt, the same red with green pattern he had worn with such pride. The same kilt Deirdre had taken from him in Cairn Toul. The colors he wore now were from a kilt he had stolen. It meant nothing to him. “Mayhap.” The second man smiled, showing several missing teeth. “Ye doona carry a blade.”
“Looks can be deceiving.”
“Where is it then?”
Charon was tempted to show them who he really was, but it wasn’t time. Yet. “How fares your laird?”
The two men exchanged a glance, but it was the first man who answered. “He’s gaining in years.”
“Is that so?”
“Ye planning on trying to take over this clan, because there are many Highland warriors here?”
The second man nodded vigorously. “Many warriors. Ye wouldna stand a chance.”
Charon laughed and winked at the barmaid as she set down his ale. “I’ve nay desire to rule this clan.” He had another venture in mind, one the village would discover soon enough.
If Charon had his way, Deirdre and her threats would never bother him again.
He suddenly thought of the MacLeods and the Warriors who had joined them. Charon had helped them kill Deirdre, but even then he had known she wouldn’t die easily.
Maybe he should have returned to the castle with the MacLeods. It would have been nice to have so many Warriors he knew to guard his back. He’d watched Quinn, Arran, Ian, and Duncan do it for each other often enough while in Deirdre’s Pit.
Charon had even tried to help them once, though they knew nothing about it. But he would never fit in at MacLeod Castle. There were too many deeds in his past that they could not accept.
He was better off alone. As he always had been.
Galen watched Reaghan soak in the steaming water. He longed to join her, but it wasn’t big enough for the two of them. Maybe he should ask Lucan to build a tub that would accommodate two.
Her encounter with Mairi had upset Reaghan more than she told him, and so he thought a hot bath might help her relax. He never expected to be so aroused while watching her.
Galen swallowed as she tilted her head to the side, her glorious auburn curls pinned atop her head. Her skin glistened from the heat of the water and the candle glow. The flames cast a golden light about the chamber, making her hair appear darker.
“You’re staring again.”
Galen jerked his eyes to her face to find her smiling. “How can I no’ when I’ve your beautiful body to feast my eyes upon?” “Just your eyes?” she said with a sensual smile that made his balls tighten.
“If you want to finish your bath, you’d best keep your tongue silent lest I pull you from the water and show you what I’d like to do to you.” Her lids closed over her eyes for a heartbeat before she rose from the water. Galen’s breath locked in his lungs as he stared at the magnificent woman who had come into his life so unexpectedly.
His gaze locked on small, pert breasts. Her rosy nipples were hard, wanting, begging for his mouth. A droplet of water beaded on a tip, tempting and teasing him.
“Reaghan, you have no idea what you to do me,” he croaked through the desire that burned in him.
One long, lean leg lifted from the water and over the tub’s edge to gingerly step onto the cool stone floor. The second leg followed.
Galen licked his lips, his cock hard and aching. The droplet on her nipple dangled for a moment before it plummeted down her body.
He followed a droplet as it crawled down her flat stomach to dip into her navel then continue downward into the auburn curls betwixt her legs.
Galen had never undressed so fast in his life. Every time he tasted Reaghan, he wanted more. Always more. He couldn’t get en
ough, couldn’t get close enough to her. Somehow, somewhere from Loch Awe to MacLeod Castle she had stolen a piece of his soul.
He felt as if he had known her for centuries instead of days. It was impossible, yet he didn’t question it. He merely accepted.
“You’re beautiful,” he said as he came to stand in front of her.
He plunged his hands into her hair, scattering the pins that were barely holding her thick locks. He loved the feel of the heavy, silky mass.
Reaghan rose up on her tiptoes and gave him a quick kiss. “And you, my fierce Warrior, are magnificently handsome.” “Magnificent?” he repeated with a grin. “I like that. A lot.”
“Hmm,” she murmured against his neck. “I thought you might.”
Galen sucked in a breath when she wrapped her slender fingers around his staff. She stroked his length and let a digit glide over the sensitive tip. He groaned, lost in the flames of desire, but he never loosened his hold.
“I think you enjoy this,” she whispered seductively in his ear.
Shivers of delight, of anticipation, raced down Galen’s spin. “You have no idea.”
“Should I continue? Should I bring you to your knees with my hands? Maybe my mouth?”
Galen’s cock jumped at the thought of her hot mouth on him. “Only if I can taste you as well.”
Her breathing quickened, her eyelids heavy. “How is that possible?”
“I’ll show you,” he promised as he lifted her in his arms. “Just not yet.”
She wrapped her slim legs around his waist as he brought her against the wall and kissed her. The passion that always simmered between them burst through in an instant.
Their kiss was frantic, their hands searching, caressing, learning. Holding. His hands held her thighs apart, spreading her, opening her. She cried out when the tip of his cock brushed against her moist sex.
The sight of her parted lips, her closed eyes, and the ecstasy that awaited pushed Galen to the brink. He shifted his hips, found her opening, and drove deep inside her.
Her wonderfully wet, deliciously hot sheath wrapped around him, holding him.
“Galen,” she whispered, and sought his lips for another kiss.
Their tongues clashed and separated in time with each thrust of his hips. Her fingers gripped his shoulders, her ankles dug into his buttocks as she urged him faster, harder.
Ruthlessly, he drove inside her again and again, letting the passion, the desire build until they were frenzied with it.
She gasped into his mouth, her body taut. And then she shattered in his arms.
Galen continued to thrust inside her, the urgency to give her more, to take her higher pressed him hard. He wanted to hold back, to take more of her in many different ways, but the sound of her cries as she continued to ride the wave of bliss was too much.
She whispered his name, beckoning him to join her. Galen thrust once more and let his orgasm take him.
Her hands caressed him, her whispered words mumbled in the fog of his climax. He stumbled to the bed and dropped them onto it. She pulled him into his arms, holding him in the shelter of her body as oblivion took hold.
THIRTY-ONE
Logan braced his hands on the cool stones of the battlements and watched the peregrine falcon soar through the air.
The gray and white striped feathers of the bird’s underbelly made it easy to recognize. Which only confirmed to Logan that it was the same bird that had followed them from the castle and back again.
Logan found the falcon majestic to watch as it soared so effortlessly in the sky, its cry touching a chord deep inside him, but that didn’t stop him from wanting to capture it.
There was magic with the bird. The only thing that kept Logan from killing the falcon right then was that he recalled Quinn saying it wasn’t Deirdre’s magic.
At least they knew this bird and what it was about. Better to have a known enemy than an unknown one, Logan’s father had always told him.
The softest of sounds, which only his enhanced hearing discerned, alerted Logan he wasn’t alone. He knew without turning it was Hayden. Logan had wondered how long it would take his friend to find him.
“Did your time away help?” Hayden asked.
Logan smiled. Hayden always got right to the point. It was one of the things that had bonded them so early on. Logan turned to face the man he considered his brother and shrugged. “I could say aye.”
“But it would be a lie.”
“Is it so obvious?”
Hayden sighed, his black eyes filled with concern. “To me it is, but then I know you better than most.”
“That you do.”
“Yet I doona know everything, do I?”
Logan looked away. “There are some secrets best kept locked inside.”
Hayden walked until he stood beside Logan, his gaze now tracking the falcon. “So much happened during the few days you were gone. I tried to deny what I felt for Isla and what she meant to me. I hurt her badly, Logan, and in the end I nearly lost her.”
“What happened?” Logan had known that if Hayden could accept Isla, then good things awaited both of them.
“My past. I couldn’t stay away from her, yet I denied her with every breath I took because she was drough.”
“And a drough murdered your family.”
Hayden grew silent. “It was Isla.”
Logan could only stare at his friend as his words sank in. “And yet you are with her. Hayden, you searched for droughs so you could challenge and kill them.”
“I know,” Hayden admitted. “When Isla told me it was her, it didna matter anymore. I had almost let my god take control of me. That was enough to make me realize I needed to take a hard look at my life. And then when Deirdre tried to take over Isla’s mind, it all became clear to me. My life meant nothing without her.”
Logan turned to the side and leaned his hip against the battlement wall. “I gather you told Isla all of that.”
“Nay. I was too afraid of losing her still. So much had happened and been said between us, most of it my fault. I wanted to gain her trust so she would believe me when I told her how I felt.”
“That you loved her,” Logan said.
Hayden nodded. “That I loved her. I held her while Deirdre tried to take over her mind. I’d never felt so powerless. The Druids did all they could, but even Sonya’s magic couldn’t help.”
“Because it was Deirdre?”
“Aye. Deirdre’s hold on Isla was strong, but Isla fought it. Until I woke up and she was gone.”
Logan’s eyes widened. “Gone? She left you?”
“To save all of us. She was afraid Deirdre would gain control, so Isla planned to sacrifice herself. I went crazy when I found her gone.”
Logan grimaced. He’d seen Hayden at his worst, and somehow he knew it had been so much more with Isla gone.
“Fallon managed to get through to me, and Broc found Isla. By the time I got to her, Deirdre had nearly killed her. Still, Isla found the strength to tell me she had slain my family, but I knew it wasn’t her. Deirdre had taken over her mind and body and done the deed. Isla was blameless, as were all the droughs I executed over the years.”
“I’m glad the others were here for you.” Logan blew out a breath and knew he should have been there for his friend. But he would have been useless. Just as he was now.
Hayden chuckled. “And all I kept thinking was how I wished you were here to make a jest, to make me laugh.”
“I wish I could have been.”
They were silent for a moment, and then Hayden asked, “Are you leaving?”
Logan shook his head and tapped the stones. “Nay. Deirdre and her evil is a festering wound over our land. She needs to be destroyed, and it will take all of us.”
“Tell me what sent you from here.”
“The past and memories that willna loosen their hold.”
Hayden’s large hand came down on his shoulder in a gesture of understanding, of brotherhood. “If you nee
d me, you know I will be there for you.”
“I know.” Logan looked into his friend’s eyes and forced a smile.
With a sigh, Hayden dropped his hand. “Now, what are we going to do about that bird?”
Logan saw the clarity in Hayden’s eyes, eyes that had held the demons of his past for so long. Logan wondered if he’d ever be so content.
As soon as the thought went through his mind he knew it would never be possible. Some transgressions of the past refused to die, and soon one of them would rear its ugly head.
“Logan?”
He shook himself and shrugged. “So far the peregrine hasn’t come too close to the castle. If it does, I’ll be there waiting for it.”
Brenna knew she shouldn’t bring the peregrine so close to the castle, not with the Warrior watching so intently. Yet there was something about the Warriors that called to her.
Maybe it was the sadness she glimpsed occasionally in the Warrior’s eyes. They were dangerous. She’d seen that in the way they battled the wyrran at Loch Awe.
The power of their gods, the savagery that had taken hold of them, should have scared her. But in the safety of her isle as she peered through the falcon’s eyes, she was awestruck by them and the Druids who trusted them.
Brenna mentally asked the falcon to hunt and then return to the forest. With just a thought, Brenna severed the connection she had with the bird.
“Well?”
It was no surprise her father once more waited impatiently to hear what she had seen. “They do nothing.”
“Nothing? I cannot believe that,” Kerwyn said as he paced around her, using the walking stick carved out of an oak and inscribed with ancient Celtic writing.
Brenna glanced at Daghda before she rose and faced her father. “They do nothing. I believe they await an attack from Deirdre.”
“Ah,” he said with a knowing look. “They go to great lengths to make others think they go against Deirdre.”
“And if they are going against Deirdre? Have you stopped to consider that?”