She listened for a few more minutes, pretending she found something interesting on the ground and poked at it with her foot. Then all of a sudden she took off into the woods. She was relieved that it did not take long to reach the animal and that no one yet followed.
Her breath caught as she came face to face with the beast. It was a wolf, a large black one.
If the warriors saw him, they would surely kill him.
Heather stopped a few feet from the wolf and waited a moment before she began to approach him slowly and speak to him softly. “I am here to help, but I fear we have little time. So, I have no time to win your trust.” She hunched down and held out her hand to him. “May I help you?”
The wolf seemed to sense her gentleness and urgency and approached her with quick steps.
Heather saw how he hobbled to her and once he was close, she laid a gentle hand at his side and continued speaking softly to him as she ran her hand down along his leg. She heard the soft rumble of a growl in his throat and it took a moment for her to realize that he warned her that soon they would not be alone.
“I must hurry,” she said and lifted his paw to see that a sliver of wood had somehow embedded itself between the pads of his paw. It was red and sore, but if she could extract it, she was sure he would see to the rest.
She heard rushing footfalls drawing closer and while she stroked the wolf gently with one hand, she plucked the sliver of wood out with the other. “You must run,” she whispered to him.
“Step away slowly, Lady Heather.”
She almost sighed with relief when she heard it was Pitt and not her husband. She turned, keeping herself close to the wolf so that the warriors would not take a chance of releasing their arrows in fear of hitting her.
“He was injured. I saw to his wound. He means you no harm,” she called out.
“Step aside,” Pitt ordered again.
“I will not let you harm him.” She realized then that more men were gathering around and they would be on the wolf as soon as he took off. She had no choice. She would not see the beautiful creature die. She had to run with him so that the warriors would not pelt him with arrows.
“The Dragon will be here soon, Lady Heather. He will not be happy about this.”
That was enough to have her turn to the wolf and say, “Run!”
She followed right behind him, pleased that her frequent runs in the meadow with her sisters had served a purpose after all. She kept pace with the wolf or perhaps he had sensed her intentions and kept a pace she could follow.
The footfalls behind her were growing closer and she called out to the wolf, “Keep going. No matter what keep going.”
The wolf picked up speed and she followed as best she could and when he jumped atop a formation of rocks and disappeared behind it, she sensed he was safe. She stopped abruptly and just as abruptly was grabbed from behind and swung around to face her husband.
Anything she was about to say died on her lips as soon as she saw his face. There was no doubt the Dragon stood before her. His dark eyes blazed with fury, his nostrils flared, and it would be fiery words he unleashed on her.
His hand tightened on her arm like an iron shackle. She was not going anywhere.
“We hurry back,” Rhys shouted to his men.
She was surprised that the warriors did not follow after the wolf, but instead surrounded her and Rhys, providing a thick safety barrier around them. She wondered what kind of danger lurked in the woods that such precautions were taken.
When they were a few feet in the village, the warriors dispersed, while a few remained on the edge of the woods. Rhys kept walking, pulling her along with him, his pace barely slowing. People stared and whispers circled as they watched their leader practically drag his wife through the village. Heather almost tripped over her own feet twice, but Rhys was quick to right her.
Heather was shocked when he brought her to the barn. The guard upon seeing them approach, hurried to his feet and moved the bench away from the door just as Rhys reached out for the handle.
He yanked her inside, ordering the guard to shut the door behind him. He rushed her along, stopping at the stall where she had last seen the two dead ghost warriors. Nothing was there but a partially filled grain sack sitting atop a barrel.
His heated tone flamed his words. “I give orders for a reason—to protect my clan. You endangered not only your life, but the lives of my men by disobeying me. Evil lurks in those woods.” He shoved her toward the barrel. “See it for yourself and perhaps then you will obey me.”
A tingle of fear rushed over Heather as she took a step toward the barrel. If the sack held no grain, what did it hold? She cautiously undid the tie on the sack and pulled the edges down around whatever was in it.
Heather’s hands froze when it revealed the severed head of a man that had been beaten beyond reason, his eyes gorged out of his head like the other warrior. Maggots feasted on what was left of the flesh and other bugs began to crawl out of the holes and what was left of his nose. His mouth hung agape as if in a perpetual scream when suddenly a spider crawled out of it.
She jumped back, her stomach revolting at the sickening sight and she turned to her husband, stretching her hand out to him.
Rhys grabbed her around the waist and hurried her away from the disgusting sight. He quickly bent her at the waist, saying, “Take deep breathes.”
She did as he said and while doing so she heard someone enter the barn. The next thing she knew, Rhys was placing a wet cloth to her face. The coolness chased away the last of the protesting rumbles in her stomach and she straightened, though dropped back to lean against her husband.
Rhys had been too angry with his wife to care or give thought to how she would react when she saw the severed head. Now he regretted it and regrets were rare for him.
She turned in his arms, resting her head against his chest, wishing she could erase the atrocious sight from her memory.
Rhys wrapped his arm around her and gently eased her along toward the door.
Pitt stood there and opened it as they approached and Heather realized he had been the one to enter the barn before, but then he was always there when Rhys needed him.
Rhys watched the faces of his people as they looked at his wife as he escorted her through the village. Tongues would wag, speculating over what she saw that left her ghostly pale and trembling in his arms. The servants in the keep stepped away as Rhys walked through the Great Hall with her.
Nessa was the only one with courage enough to approach him. “Is there anything I can do for my lady?”
“Bring more wine to my solar,” Rhys ordered as he hurried Heather out of the room. He sat her in the chair by the fire after entering his solar and when he went to release her hand, she grabbed it.
“Do not leave me.”
Her actions had him recalling a similar reaction right here in the solar after she had seen the bodies of the two dead warriors. She had seen too much evil of late, but this time it had been his fault. Rhys took tight hold of her hand. “I am not going anywhere. I just want to add more logs to the fire. You feel chilled.”
“I am,” she said and reluctantly let him go.
Rhys bid Nessa to enter when he heard a knock and as soon as she did, he said, “Leave it. I will see to it.”
Nessa cast a worried look at Heather. She was pale and shivered even with the fire stoked and she wondered what had happened to her. She hated leaving her, but she had no choice. She closed the door quietly behind her.
Rhys filled a goblet and handed it to Heather.
Her hands shook so badly when she took it that Rhys cupped his around hers and helped her drink from it. Afterwards he took it from her and set it on the small table beside her chair.
Rhys did not like that no color had returned to her cheeks and that she continued to tremble. He leaned over and lifted her up into his arms, then sat in the chair, drawing her legs up and tucking her firmly against him.
After a several minute
s of stroking her back, she looked up at him and said, “Who would do such a monstrous thing?
“The man I was a slave to for seven years.”
“A slave?” Heather repeated almost choking on the word.
“Aye, a slave, forced to do an evil man’s bidding.”
Fear gripped Heather. “You escaped and now he comes for you?”
“No,” Rhys said, shaking his head. “I won my freedom.”
“Then what does he want from you?”
“What I took from him when I left.”
When he remained silent for several minutes, she asked, “What did you take from him?”
“His wife.”
Chapter Twenty-one
Rhys had not planned on telling his wife, at least not yet. But he had foolishly let his anger rule, something he had not done in years, and this was the results and a good reason not to let it happen again. He did wonder, though, if his inquisitive wife would make that impossible.
She had yet to respond; she simply stared at him out of shock or disbelief, he was not certain.
So many thoughts rushed through Heather’s head, but only one word spilled from her lips. “Why?”
“She asked me to.”
“Why?”
“Her life was in danger.” Before Heather could ask why again, Rhys pressed his finger to her lips. “I was taken to a land with vastly different customs than Scotland. There, slaves obeyed their masters or suffered horribly for it. Wives suffered much worse fates.”
“Wives?” Heather asked.
“Aye, wives. Masters had multiple wives, all generously provided for unless a wife did not please her Master.”
“What happened?”
“It depended on the situation. Some simply disappeared, sent away to be provided for elsewhere if the wife had not displeased him. Those who displeased him suffered greatly.”
“This wife who you took from him, did she displease him?” Heather asked his story sounding more like a tale than truth, yet it would explain much about what had happened to change Quinn so drastically. And her heart ached for him.
“Not yet, though she feared that she would. You see Haidar, the master, had five children from five different wives and they were all daughters. He wanted a son, demanded a son, and he proclaimed that any daughter born before he was given a son would be killed. So the next wife who got pregnant and gave him a daughter—” Rhys stopped abruptly the horrendous memory not one he wanted his wife to have. “So I agreed to take her and when I bid Haidar farewell, he never knew that his wife was safely concealed in one of the gifts he had bestowed on me.”
“How very brave of you. You saved this woman and her child. Did she have a son?”
“I do not know and she did not want me to know or know her destination once I left her on her own. We both knew what would happen if Haidar came for us. No one could withstand his brutal torture.”
“How long ago was this?” she asked.
“Three years.”
His time spent as a slave plus three years made it ten years, the exact number of years Quinn had been gone. She tucked the thought away and asked, “Why wait three years to come after you?”
“The woman was wise and left a trail that would make him believe that she had run away but had remained in his country. And he would have never thought I had been involved with her disappearance.”
“Why?”
“I have told you enough,” Rhys said abruptly. “Now you see why it is imperative that you obey me. He seeks not only word of his wife and child, but revenge for me betraying him. His attack on us that day, his brutal killing of my two warriors, the culprit in our bedchamber, and now this severed head, is all to show me that I cannot stop him. He will have what he wants.”
She cringed as she spoke. “He reminds you again with the gorged out eyes in the severed head that you will not see him coming. Do you know who the head belongs to and why the head was only left? And where was the head found?”
“Enough dreadful talk for one day,” Rhys snapped. He reached for the goblet of wine and handed it to her.
Her trembling gone and feeling much improved, Heather took the goblet, but did not drink. “If the head was found on your land, then how did the person get passed your men without being seen?”
“Enough!” Rhys ordered. “Now you will tell me why you went into the woods and why you were running after a wolf.”
Heather did not let his shout or demand bother her. She was so very pleased that he had shared some of his past with her, since it helped her to understand how the Dark Dragon came to be born.
She smiled and kissed his lips gently. “Thank you for trusting me enough to share part of your past.”
“Do not think to distract me with kisses,” he said, though the kiss certainly had brought attention to his manhood. “Tell me of the wolf.”
Heather took a sip of the wine and handed the goblet to Rhys and he took a sip as she said, “I was not running after him. I ran behind him to protect him from your warriors. I knew they would not dare draw their bows with me so close to him.”
“A wise conclusion for a foolish action.”
“Not to me,” Heather said in defense of herself. “The wolf needed my help.”
“And you knew this how?”
Heather took the goblet from her husband and sipped slowly.
“Delaying in answering me will not help,” he advised and slipped the goblet out of her hand to place on the table.
“It will delay having you think me a fool.”
He caressed her lower lip with his thumb, not trusting his lips after her gentle kiss had stirred his hunger for her. “Never would I think you a fool, wife—foolish perhaps—but never a fool.”
His response brought a smile to her face and his touch brought flutters to her stomach. Good lord, but she loved this man beyond reason. “Since I was young I had a certain way with animals. They came to me for comfort, help, and love, and I gave it most willingly.”
“Are you saying the wolf came to you for help?”
“I believe he did, for I heard his distress quite clearly, though I had little time to make certain of his trust since your warriors were on my trail so fast.”
“I am glad to hear that.”
“By the time I removed the sliver of wood from his paw, your warriors were there. I tried to warn them away, telling Pitt that the wolf meant them no harm, but to no avail. I had little choice but to protect the innocent animal.”
Rhys took hold of her chin. “You will stay out of the woods and never again let me find you tending a wolf.” The purse of her lips and the tilt of her head alerted him to his mistake. “Let me clarify that. Never again will you tend a wolf whether I see you doing it or not, and I will have your word on it.”
“I will give you my word that I will not go into the woods until this problem is resolved.” She shook her head. “But I cannot give you my word that I will not tend a wolf, if it should prove necessary.”
“Are you forcing my hand, wife?” he asked, giving her chin a squeeze.
“No,” she whispered and placed her hand over his and eased it off her chin, cupping it in her hands. “I do not force you nor can I stop you from the decisions you make. I say again, I wish for truth and trust between us.”
“Truth often times creates problems.”
“Trust often times helps to avoid or solve them.”
Bringing his lips close to hers, he whispered, “Do you trust me, wife?”
“With my life,” she answered without hesitation.
His words whispered across her lips with a hint of a challenge. “You place your life in the hands of the Dark Dragon?”
“I place my life in the hands of the man I love.” She pressed her lips to his before he could move away in anger, knowing once their lips touched there would be no separating them.
Rhys let the kiss go only so far, his passion flaming much too hot, far too quickly, and he could sense hers had done the same.
/> He tugged her head gently back by her hair. “You are still sore?”
Heather’s hesitated to answer.
His hand dipped under the hem of her dress. “I can find out for myself or you can tell me the truth, since is it not truth that you want between us?”
Heather sighed. “It is, and I have yet to heal completely.”
Rhys removed his hand from under her dress. “There is something I wish to be truthful with you about.”
Heather smiled, pleased that he should do so.
Rhys ran his fingers down along her braid that rested on her chest. “The necklace you wore the other night, it was not me who left it for you.” Her smile faded as Rhys continued. “Haidar gave that necklace to his wife when he found out she was pregnant, certain she would give him a son, since her mother had given her father four sons.”
Heather rubbed her chest, feeling as if it was not the necklace that had touched her skin, but Haidar’s hands.
Rhys took her hand in his aware of what his wife was thinking. “Haidar will never touch you; I will make certain of it.”
Heather smiled and pressed his hand to her chest. “No one will ever touch me but you.”
“You are right about that, for I will kill any man that even dares it.”
Heather wrinkled her brow.
“What is wrong?”
“I think Seamus is right.”
“Right about what?”
“Seamus made mention that one of your own warriors could have turned against you for a price, and with someone having gained access to our bedchamber twice now without being caught I would venture to guess he may be right.”
“Your curiosity combined with your intelligence may prove—”
“Helpful,” she finished with a soft laugh.
Her laughter brought a smile to his face something that had become more frequent with his wife around. And he wondered, or perhaps he more hoped, that she actually had the power to chase away the darkness that had been his constant companion for far too long.
She poked him in the chest. “Tell me you have not considered that one of your men may have betrayed you?”
“He has not betrayed me,” he admitted. “He is loyal to his master Haidar and doing what he was sent to do.”
Highlander The Dark Dragon Page 18