by Donna Grant
Malcolm shrugged. “It was fascinating watching you transform. I envy you that. And your immortality.”
“Don’t,” she cautioned. She was eighty years his senior, but in the eyes of mortals, it was Malcolm who could tell her what to do. “It may look exciting, but my very life hangs in the balance.”
“Your secrets are safe with me. You should know that.”
And she did. Malcolm had been her only connection to her clan after she had left and Robena died. Though banished from the Monroe clan, Larena had always lived close enough to visit her father from time to time.
Through the years Malcolm had always stayed her friend, giving her news and anything else she needed. It had been his idea to come to Edinburgh and act asher brother. Malcolm had sacrificed much in order to help her, and she feared she would never be able to repay him.
“Does Camdyn know that which you guard?” Malcolm asked.
Larena shook her head. “Nay. It’s enough that he knows I’m a Warrior.”
“Be careful, Larena. You may be a Warrior, but Deirdre will find out about you sooner or later.”
“I know.” She glanced away as icy fingers of foreboding raked down her back.
Malcolm touched her hand to gain her attention. “What will you do when she comes after you? For you know she will stop at nothing to acquire what you protect.”
“This I know as well. I’ve been prepared for it.”
“She has black magic. There is nothing that can prepare you for that.”
It was true, but she wouldn’t let him know how much she feared Deirdre’s discovery. For a hundred years she had lived her life as her own. Once Deirdre began hunting her, things would change. And not for the better.
If Deirdre learned of what she was, Larena would forever be running. She didn’t fear being captured by Deirdre. She feared what would happen when Deirdre learned Larena guarded the Scroll.
The Scroll was a list of all the surnames of every Celtic man who had been inhabited by a god to drive out the Romans. It was a list that Deirdre would want at all costs since she could then easily find the men whose bloodline housed a god.
Larena would never forgive herself if the Scroll fell into Deirdre’s hands. It was one of the reasons she kept the secret to herself. The only reason Malcolm knew was because he was family and had been told by his father.
“It’s why you want to talk to the MacLeod, isn’t it?” Malcolm guessed, breaking into her thoughts. “You think he and his brothers can protect you.”
“If anyone can help keep me from Deirdre, it’s the MacLeod and his brothers.”
“And if he says nay?”
She blew out a breath, not even wanting to think of the possibility. “Then I will face Deirdre on my own.”
Malcolm’s arm muscles clenched beneath her hand before he turned and led her back to the castle. “I pray you’re right about MacLeod.”
“So do I,” she murmured.
Her life was nothing, but the Scroll she guarded was too precious to fall into evil hands.
Chapter Three
Fallon watched Larena Monroe from his window. He had been surprised to see her walk into the gardens alone. For a moment she had dropped the smile and let herself relax. In that instant, he had seen the despair and anxiousness in the small frown that marred her smooth forehead.
As soon as the man had joined her, she quickly brought the smile back, however. It was an easy smile, not the obligatory one he saw in the great hall. Whoever this man was, she obviously cared for him. And that annoyed Fallon more than he cared to admit.
Larena and the man had sat for several moments talking before they stood and walked through the garden. Fallon knew he shouldn’t spy on her, but he couldn’t help himself. Everything Larena did fascinated him. From the tilt of her head to the lift of her hand, her every movement was graceful and elegant. The golden curls that framed her face tantalized him with a view of her slender neck.
In the quiet of his chamber, he was able to observe her at his leisure, and he found he quite enjoyed what he saw. The more he looked, the more he wanted to look. It was no wonder every man in the castle wanted her. It wasn’t just her beauty, it was the strength and resolve inside her that drew men’s gazes like a moth to flame.
The way the man held her, as if she were his, caused Fallon’s fists to clench. Was he observing a clandestine meeting? He hadn’t bothered to ask anyone if she was married. As much as Fallon told himself it didn’t matter, the simple truth was it did. Because he wanted her for himself.
“It cannot be,” he told himself.
Yet, as daft as it was, he did want her.
Fallon turned and walked to his bed. He fell facefirst on it and took a deep breath before rolling to his back. His gaze moved to the burgundy velvet canopy that reminded him of Larena Monroe and the gown she wore.
He wished he knew what was going on at his castle. Had Deirdre sent additional Warriors to attack? Were the repairs going according to plan? Had more of Galen’s Warrior friends found their way to the castle? Had Cara and Sonya found the spell that would bind their gods?
Too many questions and no answers. But those questions weren’t what kept him awake at night. Nay, it was his worry of Quinn in Deirdre’s dungeon. He had no idea what Deirdre was doing to his youngest brother, and that scared him as nothing else could.
“I’m coming, Quinn. Hold on, brother. Hold on,” he whispered into the chamber.
He had wanted to go after Quinn immediately, but cooler heads had prevailed. They needed leverage against Deirdre. Besides Lucan’s wife, Cara, there was only one thing Deirdre wanted more — the Scroll.
The Scroll was a list of all the names of men who had housed the gods when the Celts fought the Romans. Deirdre had her own ways of discovering these men who could have the god inside them, but the Scroll would give her all the surnames instantly. It would help her to triple her Warriors in a matter of weeks instead of years. And with those Warriors, Deirdre would have control over Scotland — and the world — all too soon.
Fallon wanted to discern whatever he could about the Scroll, but so far he had found nothing that led him to believe the Scroll was even real. So much got added to stories in the retelling that the legend of the Scroll could have been included at any time.
He sat up when there was a soft knock on his door. Fallon rose and let his claws lengthen. He didn’t trust anyone, and he would be damned before he was caught unawares by Deirdre.
“Who is it?” he called.
“A servant, sir, sent by Baron MacNeil. He has sent you a message,” said the feminine voice.
Fallon walked to the door and opened it a crack to find a young girl with auburn hair standing before him. She held out the missive, her hand shaking and her eyes downcast.
He retracted his claws and reached for the parchment. “Thank you.”
She dipped into a hurried curtsy and started to turn away.
“Wait,” Fallon said. He opened the note and read it. Fallon clenched his jaw when he learned Iver had sent a missive to the king even after Fallon had told him not to.
“Aye, milord?” Her gaze briefly met his.
Fallon folded the parchment. He would deal with Iver later. He leaned his shoulder against the doorway and pushed the door open wider. “Tell me what you know of Lady Larena Monroe.”
The young girl fiddled with her skirts. “She is very beautiful and kind to everyone.”
Fallon lifted a coin and held it before her. “Is it true all the men want her?”
“Aye, milord. She is sought after by many. Her brother is very protective.”
Damn. He handed her the coin and lifted another. “A brother, aye? Who is he?”
“Lord Malcolm Monroe. He’s a handsome devil. He’s as sought after as his sister.”
Fallon narrowed his gaze as his mind raced. “Is that so? Which man is seeking Lady Larena’s favor now?”
“Milord?” the servant asked, her brow furrowed.
He sighed and held up another coin. “What man is in her bed?”
The girl’s eyes grew large. “I wouldn’t know, milord. For all the gossip, there is no man I’ve heard claim that he’s had her.”
“Interesting.” Fallon pulled out some more coins and handed them to the servant. “Thank you for the information.”
Once the door shut, he leaned back against it. He had learned more than he expected. There might not be men boasting of having Larena, but he imagined many had shared her bed. She was, after all, a very beautiful, very alluring woman.
And they were in the king’s castle where favors were traded for anything. It only made sense that Larena and her brother had come to the castle to gain something, as everyone did. Why the men kept quiet about their affairs with Larena was intriguing. Did they do it out of respect? Or did they fear her brother?
It had been a long time since Fallon interacted with people, but he found it more than odd that there wasn’t at least one man willing to claim he’d had Larena.
Fallon tossed aside the missive and left his chamber. He wouldn’t get anything accomplished staying in his room, and he needed MacLeod Castle turned over to him.
Three hours later and Fallon was no closer to finding someone who could help him learn if the king really was coming to Scotland or not. Everyone had a different opinion.
He had thought he could come to Edinburgh and see the king. It never occurred to him the king of Scotland would prefer to rule in England. Of course, it still boggled his mind that the king ruled both England and Scotland.
How times had changed his Scotland. And not for the better.
Just another example of why he and his brothers shouldn’t have remained holed up in the castle for three hundred years. There was so much to get caught up on.
His stomach growled with hunger, but the thought of sitting in the great hall with all those people made him break out in a cold sweat. His steps slowed as he reached the double doors that led into the hall.
More than likely he had learned all he could in Edinburgh. It was the thought of returning to Lucan without anything that made Fallon pause. His brothers were counting on him. He had promised Lucan he would get their castle back. How could Fallon fail once again?
“Damn,” he murmured.
Fallon ran a hand down his face and sighed. He would seek out Thomas MacDonald during the evening meal. MacDonald’s name had been mentioned as someone who knew what the king planned. Maybe Fallon could find out once and for all what the king planned to do. The thought of staying in the castle another hour made him ill, but he would do it for his brothers.
He wished it was Lucan here instead of himself. Lucan knew how to charm people to do whatever he wanted. But Lucan had done too much during the last three hundred years while Fallon had stayed drunk. This was the least he could do for his brothers, and he would see it done. One way or another.
The soft scent of lilies drifted on the air, halting his thoughts. Fallon turned to find none other than Larena Monroe standing behind him. For a moment she looked unsure of herself. Then, she smiled, and he noted the hands clasped in front of her shook a little. Was she nervous? The woman everyone wanted?
Fascinating.
She had changed from her burgundy gown to one of the deepest blue that brought out the color of her eyes. And he couldn’t look away.
Her hair was different as well, softer, with more curls framing her face. One hung alongside her cheek to land near her mouth. He wanted to reach over and tug on one of the strands to see if it was as soft as it looked.
“This may seem unforgivably ill-mannered,” she said, “but I was hoping you could tell me if you are the MacLeod everyone is speaking about?”
Her voice was as smooth as honey and as rich as the finest wine. Her smoky blue eyes searched his, as if she sought more answers than the one question could provide. He could easily drown in her almond-shaped eyes and lose himself in her scent.
His body reacted with alarming speed at the sight of her. Heat and blood centered between his legs as his rod thickened, and the lust he had pushed aside earlier returned with a vengeance.
“Aye,” Fallon answered after a moment, when he knew his voice would work. “I am Fallon MacLeod.”
She let out a breath as her eyes briefly closed. “Fallon. An unusual name.”
“I suppose so.”
“I am’”
“Lady Larena Monroe,” he finished for her. He had to force his gaze from her lips, lips that he ached to kiss, to taste. “It seems as though your name is just as well known as mine, though for a different reason, my lady.”
Her brows furrowed for the space of a heartbeat. “It is the castle of the king, sir. Gossip abounds. You shouldn’t believe anything you hear.”
There was truth to her words. Still, too many whispered their lust for her. Could it be true none of them had sampled her?
“I was hoping I might have a moment of your time?” she asked.
Fallon was intrigued. Too damned intrigued. What could she want with him? He was no palace dandy, and as much as he found himself attracted to her, he didn’t have time for any kind of affair, however short-lived it might be. He had to stay focused on his task.
“I’m sorry, my lady, but I doona have the time.”
Her smile faltered. “I assure you, sir, it is important.”
Fallon frowned. “Then tell me now.”
She glanced around them, noting the people in the corridor before she stepped closer to him. “What I have to say is not for others’ ears. I would prefer a moment alone. Please.”
Fallon was tempted to take her up on her offer, just to see what she had to say. “I’m sorry, my lady, but I must decline. My business is short, and I wish to return home as quickly as I can.”
He turned on his heel and walked into the great hall before she could say more. It had been the right thing to do to walk away from her, although the scent of lilies followed him, reminding him of the exquisite woman that had wanted him, even if it was just to talk.
It wasn’t talking Fallon wanted to do though. He sank onto the end of the first bench he came across and fisted a hand beneath the table. He had been more than rude to Larena, but he hadn’t trusted himself with her.
Just one look at her and he was ready to fall to his knees and beg her to let him touch her, kiss her. The desire consumed him, making it difficult to breathe or think of anything other than her. Larena Monroe.
Fallon needed to keep his sights on why he had come to Edinburgh despite the tightening of his balls and the racing of his heart at the nearness of a woman. There would be time enough later to slake his lust.
But never with one so lovely.
As true as it was, Fallon inhaled deeply and turned to the man beside him. “Can you point out Thomas MacDonald for me?”
Larena stared at the closed doors, her blood pounding in her ears. She couldn’t believe Fallon had refused her. Though she didn’t think her face any prettier than others’, she had learned not long after reaching Edinburgh that a simple smile could make men do just about anything.
Fallon MacLeod, however, was proving to be different. And she liked that. He guarded himself well. It could be because he was a Warrior, or his name could be mere coincidence and the legend of his clan caused him to be cautious.
She understood cautious all too well, but she would wager the Scroll that Fallon was a Warrior. Once Malcolm spoke with Iver MacNeil they would know what Fallon wanted in Edinburgh. There wasn’t much a person couldn’t procure in Edinburgh Castle, and she would make sure she was the one who would give Fallon what he wanted.
Then, he would listen to her.
She lifted her chin and walked into the great hall.
Fallon nodded to the man across from him. After learning that Thomas MacDonald was expected in Edinburgh that evening, Fallon had sat through the meal only half listening to the conversations. All it did was make him miss his brothers and his castle more.
He w
ould talk to MacDonald as soon as he could, then he would leave Edinburgh and use his power to arrive back at his castle. Just being there would help to calm the itch in his blood, although not for long. With Quinn held by Deirdre, Fallon would have that same prickle.
Fallon reached for his goblet, wishing it were wine instead of water. Just as he brought the cup to his lips his eyes clashed with smoky blue ones. For a moment Fallon was held by Larena’s gaze. Finally, he tore his eyes away.
She sat at a table to his right and was surrounded by men, each hanging on every word she spoke. But her eyes were riveted on him. Fallon got perverse joy out of the dark looks the other men threw his way.
Despite his wish to quit the hall, he couldn’t stop watching her. Every time she took a bite of food or drank from her goblet his eyes found her mouth, a mouth he wanted to taste desperately.
Fallon cursed and rose to his feet. He had to leave or risk going to Larena and kissing her in front of everyone. He might have stayed away from people for three hundred years, but even he knew that would be frowned upon.
No sooner had he started toward the doors than he saw her exit in front of him. Too curious for his own good and powerless to control his desire, Fallon followed her. As he let the great hall doors close behind him he saw her walk down the long corridor. Alone.
Unable to help himself, he pursued her. Her strides were long and purposeful as she moved through the castle. Fallon kept to the shadows, not wanting her to see him. He wanted to learn more about her. He tried to tell himself it was in order to discover why she wanted to speak with him, but Fallon knew it for the lie that it was.
He simply wanted to know more.
And so he hid in the shadows and listened as a man blocked her path. The man was dressed not in a kilt, but some revolting extravagance of velvet and stockings with padded breeches that stopped at his knees. In short, he looked ridiculous.
The man had a lecherous smile aimed at Larena, his intentions clear. Larena dodged his hands and raised a brow when he tried to kiss her.