Highlander The Dark Dragon

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Highlander The Dark Dragon Page 8

by Donna Fletcher


  “And Hew McDolan?” Rhys asked.

  “It will not long before he and his warriors arrive at Macinnes keep,” Pitt said. “And Rab McLaud rides with him.”

  “He is coming for his wife Saundra,” Heather said worry wrinkling her brow.

  “And your family will have no choice but to return her to her husband,” Pitt was quick to advise.

  Heather squeezed her husband’s arm. “We must do something. Rab means to see his wife dead. Something I doubt Hew McDolan knows. Perhaps there is another place where Saundra could hide?”

  “If McLaud has eyes on the keep, it will not matter,” Rhys said. “McDolan is no fool. He probably sent someone ahead to see what he could find out.”

  “That is good.” Heather said. “Then he will learn of our union and know he will face more than just the Clan Macinnes.”

  “Our union has no bearing on this matter,” Rhys said. “A wife cannot be kept from her husband. Saundra will have no choice but to return to her husband.”

  “How do we simply hand her over to a man who means to kill her?” Heather argued her concern growing and not only for Saundra. “Patience will never agree to return Saundra to her husband.”

  “That refusal coupled with Greer’s wife being found dead on Macinnes land will surely start a war,” Pitt said.

  “Send two trackers out and see what they can find out,” Rhys ordered.

  Pitt appeared ready to speak, but hesitated.

  “I will have a few moments alone with Pitt,” Rhys said to his wife. “And do not bother to argue. I have been more than generous in granting your numerous requests.”

  She could not argue when he was right. She bobbed her head and stepped far enough away where she could not hear their conversation, though she wished she could. Pitt no doubt spoke to Rhys about their current enemy, a mysterious foe with far too many similarities to the ghost warriors. It had her more than curious.

  Rhys approached her as Pitt went off to do his bidding.

  His expression was stern and Heather could tell his thoughts were heavy and rightfully so.

  Heather took hold of his arm, an instinctive action, she gave no thought to, but Rhys did. Any fear she had of him was rapidly dwindling and he wondered why. Was she simply accepting her fate and forcing herself to tolerate him or was she truly at ease with him?

  “Do you often wear peasant garments,” Rhys asked as they walked toward the village.

  Heather took no offense to his remark, turning a smile on him. “Tending to the ill, seeing to the running of a keep, and tending a garden are all best served in peasant garments.”

  “My home has two healers and servants tend the gardens, peasant garments will not be necessary for the running of the keep. I will see that you have fine garments to wear.”

  Heather chuckled softly. “Fine garments will not keep me out of the garden or lending a hand to the healers. Besides, these garments suit me better than any other.”

  “They do not suit me and it appears that you need constant reminding that my word is law.”

  Heather stopped walking, forcing Rhys to do the same.

  “I was frightened enough when I was abducted and you cannot imagine how my fear escalated when I found out that the infamous Dark Dragon had ordered my abduction. My fear soared beyond reason when my father told me he had given me in marriage to you. And when I met you for the first time and had to take my leave with you, I thought my legs would fail me.”

  “I well remember, since I all but carried you from your keep.”

  “In barely two days’ time, and to my utter surprise, I find fear has been replaced, somewhat, with curiosity. The Dragon may spit fire on occasion, but his nature is not evil as most believe.”

  Rhys brought his face close to hers. “Do you not know that evil lies hidden until ready to strike?”

  Heather rested her hand to his chest. “I do not believe evil resides in you.”

  Rhys placed his hand over hers. “Trust me, wife, when I tell you that evil is there and warn you to be wary that one day it does not strike at you.”

  Heather smiled and tugged him along as she started walking again. “Evil cannot touch a faithful soul, so I have no worry.”

  This time Rhys stopped, though abruptly and yanked her up against. “Evil can take the most faithful soul and rip it apart before it destroys it completely. No amount of faith can survive against pure evil.”

  Heather felt a tug at her heart. She did not know when or how it had happened, but Rhys had obviously suffered at the hands of someone vile. She wished somehow she could ease his pain, his memories that no doubt haunt him. So she did what instinct urged her to do— she kissed him.

  Her kiss felt like a rope being tossed to a drowning man. Only it was not the sea, she was rescuing him from, but the horrendous darkness that forever consumed him. And he could not stop himself from holding on tight and not letting go.

  Her lips were strong, demanding, and full of passion, but then Heather had a passion like no other. She had a passion for everything and it was contagious, drawing you in, making you want to smile even when you had no reason to, and making you believe she could save you from the devil himself.

  Rhys felt the grip to his heart, the kick to his gut and he reached up, grabbed the hair at the back of her head and yanked her head back, reluctantly breaking the kiss. “Are you ready to sink into the darkness with me?”

  She winced from the pain of his grip and once again rested her hand against his chest. “Are you ready for me to pull you from the dark?”

  “You haven’t the strength,” he said, wishing differently.

  “Perhaps, but I can try.”

  “And if you fail?”

  “Then the Dragon will not be alone in the darkness anymore.”

  Rhys brought his mouth down on hers and kissed her with a fierceness that ran a shiver of fear through her. She could taste his ferocious hunger and she worried it could never be satiated.

  He tore his mouth away from hers. “You quake in my arms from a mere kiss. What will you do when I plant myself inside you and ride you endlessly?”

  The thought frightened and excited her at the same time and she wondered if she was already slipping into the darkness with him. “I do not know, for I have never lain with a man.”

  “And no other will ever touch you but me,” he said and softened the grip at the back of her head as he kissed her again, his hunger tempered. He ended the kiss abruptly again and turned his head. “You better pray this interruption is important.”

  Heather looked to see Pitt standing there. She had not heard him approach, but then she had been too occupied with his kiss to hear anything.

  “Your uncle awaits you in the Great Hall.”

  “I will be there shortly,” Rhys said and turned to his wife.

  She slipped out of his arms. “We must hurry. We do not want to keep your uncle waiting and I am eager to hear news of my family.” A strong tug to her arm stopped her abruptly.

  “He is not here to see you.”

  “But surely he will expect to see me if only to share news of my family. You would not deprive me of that, would you?”

  “What possible news could there be with you gone barely two days?”

  “There is my da’s illness and Emma’s pregnancy and with Patience’s impatience there is no telling what she has gotten herself into. And there is the summer harvest that needs to be prepared for winter and—”

  “Enough!” Rhys said with his hand raised. “I will grant you a few moments with him and then you will leave us.”

  He started walking and she hurried to keep step with him.

  ~~~

  Rhys spotted the look of relief on his Uncle Ewan’s face when he saw Heather. This was more than a visit to speak with his nephew. It was to see how Heather was faring.

  “It is good to see you looking well, Heather,” Ewan said, having stood as the couple approached the table.

  “I am quite well, thank you
, and adapting nicely to my marriage,” Heather said with a smile. She was aware that Ewan would report all he saw to her sisters and she did not want them worrying about her. There were far too many other important things to concern themselves with.

  “Your sisters send their regards and hope to visit soon,” Ewan said with a glance to his nephew.

  But it was Heather who answered. “Please tell them I look forward to their visit and will send an invite as soon as I settle in here.”

  Rhys admired his wife’s intelligence and love for her family. She made it clear that her sisters were not to visit until she sent word and she did that not to obey his command, but to protect her family. She no doubt feared they could possibly be attacked as she had been on her journey here.

  “I am sure they will be pleased to hear that,” Ewan said, the news seeming to please him as well.

  “Please sit and tell me how my father is faring and how my sister Emma is feeling.” Heather summoned Nessa with a wave and instructed that more food and drink be brought. “And how is Patience.”

  That brought a laugh from Ewan. “She prepares to rescue you if necessary.”

  Heather smiled. “She would do that, but then I would do the same for her. Please make it clear that I am not in need of rescuing and that I am quite safe with my husband.”

  “That will be a message I will gladly deliver,” Ewan said.

  Conversation flowed as easily and steadily as the wine and after Heather learned what she wished about her family, she stood. “I will leave you gentlemen now so that you may discuss the matters of men. I am also pleased that my husband will be able to deliver an important message for my family to you in person instead of sending a messenger. Do take care, and I am sure we will see each other again soon.”

  “They say Emma is the most intelligent of the three Macinnes sisters, but I believe it is Heather,” Ewan said as he watched her leave the room.

  “Is that because you are just realizing she got more information out of you than you intended to share?” Rhys said a smile stirring, though it did not reach his lips.

  “And that she made certain I know that she was well aware of this important news.” Ewan turned to his nephew. “Does this mean you trust her enough to tell her who attacked your troop on the way here?”

  “You received my message.”

  “I did and I did not share it with anyone as you ordered. Did you tell her?”

  Rhys shook his head. “There is enough for her to think on. I will not burden her further.”

  “Heather is a strong woman and would not shy away from burdens.”

  “You are right about that, but I am her husband now and will carry the burdens,” Rhys said.

  “I doubt she will let you carry them alone, no matter what you command.”

  “Enough about my wife, did you know that Rab and McDolan are not far from the Macinnes keep?”

  Ewan shook his head. “I did not. Macinnes will not be happy with this news and I do not see Patience agreeing to surrender Saundra to her husband. I myself would not want to. Rab means to see her dead.”

  “So I learned. I think little matters to McDolan and McLaud except their unquenchable hunger for power. Greer will not tolerate that his brother’s marriage to Patience and mine to Heather align Hunter more closely with the Dark Dragon than with Greer himself. And no doubt Hew McDolan will be disappointed as well, for Greer and his plans would be for naught.”

  “That could prove dangerous, for I do not see either man accepting defeat easily. Greer planned the immediate demise of Hunter after he wed Patience and he intended to blame it on the Clan Macinnes. When that did not work, his wife’s dead body was found on Macinnes land. And no doubt he intends to ask me, the Dark Dragon’s uncle, for your help in his revenge on the Macinnes for supposedly killing his wife. When he learns that that is no longer possible, I do not know what he will do, but he will do something.”

  “I hope he does. It will give me a good reason to take his life and be done with him.”

  Chapter Ten

  Heather decided to see if she could find Belle. She had been born here and yet she was wed to one of the ghost warriors. When and how that came about Heather was curious to find out. She also wondered if Belle knew of the whereabouts of the older clan members that had mysteriously disappeared.

  She found Belle in her garden, pulling weeds and stopped her from getting to her feet. “No, please stay as you are, I do not wish to disturb you. I know how weeds thrive after a rainstorm, sprouting up everywhere.”

  Belle sat back on her legs, smiling. “You are much like your mum from what my mum told me about Lady Enis. My mum felt like she lost a friend when your mum passed. I wish my mum was still around so you could talk with her. She has passed three years now.”

  “I am sorry to hear that.”

  “My mum told me just before she died that she had been lucky. She had a good husband, a good daughter, a good clan and a good life. She had no complaints even when there were times she could have complained, she never did. I still miss her.”

  “I miss never having known my mum,” Heather said and not wanting to linger in talk that only brought heartache, she asked one of the questions that had her curious. “Many changes have taken place here and there are many new faces. Where have the elders of the Clan McComb gone?”

  “I imagine most have died, for there were few that I knew when I returned here. My da saw how the clan was declining many years ago and wisely moved us away. I met Henry when he passed through our village.” She laughed. “He kept returning after that and we were wed. Unfortunately, I must be like my mum, struggling to conceive a child, though I hold out hope that I may still have one as my mum had me when she was older.”

  “A babe comes in its own good time,” Heather encouraged.

  “That is what my mum told me.”

  “How long have you and Henry been married?”

  “Ten years now,” Belle said with a smile.

  “I am curious, Belle,” Heather said, lowering her voice. “Was Henry a ghost warrior when you wed him?”

  “Henry is a warrior no more, no less and you will hear the same from all the other wives.”

  Heather understood without actually being told that the ghost warriors would never be acknowledged by their wives as such, and she had a strong suspicion that it was a rule of the Dragon’s that made it so.

  “How is Henry’s wound?” Heather asked. Belle smiled wide and Heather sensed she was relieved at the change of subject.

  “I changed the bandage this morning, with much protesting from Henry, but I think he was relieved to see how well it looked. He drinks the brew you showed me how to make and though he will not admit it, he has grown partial to the taste. Though, it might be that the pain subsides some afterwards.”

  “I am glad to know he is doing well. Will you and Henry remain here when the Dragon takes his leave?”

  “I am not sure, but either way I do not mind as long as Henry and I are together. I have fond memories of this place and it would not trouble me to remain here, but the Dragon’s home is beautiful, the village lovely, and I do so love it there. But either place is home for Henry and me.”

  Heather and Belle talked a few minutes more, and then Heather took her leave. She stopped to see how Douglas was doing and was pleased to see that his wound looked good and that his fever had not returned.

  She continued walking through the village, not sure what to do with herself. This would not be her permanent home, so she was not certain as to her duties here, and she certainly was not accustomed to being idle. She wished she could walk in the woods. She had done that often at home, sometimes to gather plants or wildflowers and other times it was simply to enjoy the solitary time it brought her.

  Her eye caught a young lad busy polishing Rhys’ helmet and she walked over to him.

  He rose quickly, grasping the helmet in one hand as he did and gave her a respectful bob of his head.

  “Please sit
and continue your chore,” Heather said. “You are charged with keeping the Dragon’s helmet fit for him?”

  “Aye, my lady. I polish it every day,” the lad said with pride.

  “And a fine job you do,” Heather praised.

  The lad smiled. “Thank you, my lady.”

  “Roy!”

  The lad jumped up. “Pardon me, my lady, my da calls.”

  “Hurry then, you do not want to keep him waiting.”

  The lad bobbed his head again and ran off after placing the helmet on the bench where he had been sitting.

  Heather’s glance fell on the helmet and the odd symbols etched into the metal. She reached down and picked up the helmet. Holding it in one hand, she traced the unfamiliar symbols with her finger.

  “Be careful, my lady, those symbols are evil.”

  Heather turned and stared a moment at the old man, stooped with age and leaning on a worn walking stick. He looked familiar and she smiled, recognizing him. “Seamus, is it not? I tended your arm injury a few years ago when I was here with my father.”

  “Aye, you did Lady Heather, and grateful I am for it. So I return the favor when I tell you those symbols are evil and better left alone.” He hobbled forward, relying heavily on his walking stick, reached out, and slipped the helmet from her hand, then placed it on the bench.

  “Why do you say they are evil?”

  He stared at her as if he was not quite sure if he should speak or not.

  Heather placed her hand on his arm. “I am a friend, Seamus.”

  He kept his voice low. “Evil protects evil. Those are witches’ symbols and they protect the Dragon. The village looks better than it has in a long time. Cottages are being repaired and fields replenished along with the villager folk.” His voice sunk to a whisper. “But the old people are disappearing and no one says a word.” He looked around to see if anyone lingered nearby, then said, “One night I could not sleep. I heard a strange noise and peeked outside. I saw Harold and his wife Bethany being placed in a cart and carried away, never to be seen again.” Seamus shook his head. “There is talk that the Dragon disposes of those who are no longer useful to him, just as he did to Glynnis.”

 

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