Highlander The Dark Dragon

by Donna Fletcher

  Heather gasped. “Do you know who it is?”

  Rhys shook his head. “I have yet to discover his identity. I have instructed Pitt to engage more with Nessa since she sees much of what goes on in the keep than any other.”

  “So that is why he has been seeking her out and talking with her.” Heather shook her head. “I believe it might prove difficult for Pitt, since Nessa does not find him as appealing as she does Fife. I will talk with her if you would like and free Pitt of the chore.”

  “No doubt she will speak more openly with you, though lately I do not think that Pitt considers it a chore.” Rhys eased her off his lap and onto her feet, then stood. “I have matters that need my attention. You will remain in the keep until I return.” He held his finger up when she looked ready to protest. “That is light punishment for such flagrant disobedience. I must calm the many tongues you sent wagging with your actions and make sure they know you do not go unpunished.”

  Heather did not argue. She had made her choice, knowing there would be consequences to face and she would do it again.

  His hand slipped around the back of her neck and with a quick tug he brought her up against him to kiss her. “Hurry and heal,” he said when the kiss was done and he quickly left the room.

  Heather sat, before her legs would hold her no more. She thought her desire for him would abate after how many times they had made love last night, but it had not. If anything, it had multiplied tenfold. And his words proved that he felt the same.

  She reached for the goblet of wine and drank, wondering what could keep her busy while waiting for his return.

  Mary McComb’s solar.

  The thought had her hurrying out of the chair and out of the room. Rhys would not mind if she started the search without him since it would confine her to the keep. With no reason to rush, she slowed her pace as she reached the stairs and with each step she took, she thought of what Rhys had confided to her.

  She sat after entering Mary’s solar, trying to comprehend what Quinn had suffered all these years. The awful things he must have gone through and what price he must have been forced to pay for his freedom.

  Guilt nudged at her, remembering how she had grown angry through the years, thinking he had stopped loving her, thinking he had died, when all the while, he was fighting his way back to her. A tear trickled from the corner of her eye. Her heart had broken and she had thought her suffering unbearable when it had been nothing compared to what he had endured.

  She wished that just once she could call him Quinn, let him know that she loved him, had always loved him and always would. She gave herself a few more minutes to cry for what they had lost, then she brushed her tears away. She would not linger in the past. They were here together now and that was what mattered most. She turned her attention on searching for the secret passage.

  After an hour or more of examining every part of the room, she sat in the chair again and looked through the few pieces of embroidery in the basket. Picking up piece after piece, she wondered if her mum had helped Mary McComb stitch any of them and the thought of her mum suddenly had her missing her father and sisters.

  The day she had been abducted had changed all their lives and in a strange way for the better. Emma and Patience both had found love and their father’s health had improved. She smiled, thinking how thrilled he would be when he discovered that unknowingly he had given her what she wanted most...Quinn.

  She sat a few moments more, several yawns attacking her and decided to return to her bedchamber and have a bit of rest. Her eyes caught on the room across the narrow hall as she stepped out of the solar and a thought struck her. What if she was searching the wrong room?

  Grabbing the torch from the sconce, she opened the door and entered the room. A musty odor whipped around her and the shadows scurried away from the light as she made her way deeper into the room. She had to step around the many pieces of furniture that had been haphazardly placed in there.

  A breeze brushed against her face as she stopped by the lone window. She drew back the heavy tapestry that covered it, surprised to see part of the window broken. Could that be how someone was gaining access to the upper floor, though the height would make it an impossible wall to scale or was it?

  She would tell Rhys about it as soon as she saw him. The more she explored the more she realized it would be truly impossible to search this room. There was just too much in the way to do a thorough search. She would ask Rhys to have it cleaned out so they could explore every inch of it.

  Disappointed she began to make her way back toward the door when a sudden gust of wind not only blew the torch out with the strength of a giant’s breath, but it also slammed the door shut, leaving her in complete darkness.

  Heather warned herself to remain calm. The dark could intimidate now and then, but now was not the time to let it. All she had to do was make her way to the window and yank the tapestry off and she would have light.

  She placed the extinguished torch on top of something in front of her and turned, reaching out in search of the wall. She found it easier than she expected and was pleased by her quick progress. She took hold of the corner of the tapestry and gave it a hard yank.

  Nothing happened and after what seemed like endless yanking, she stopped, frustrated. The skies had grayed again, but the light from the window would be sufficient to see her way around if she could get the tapestry down. A few more tries and she gave up. She pulled it back and did not release it until she made a mental trail to the door. Once in the dark again, she followed the trail in her mind, bumping her leg now and then before reaching the door.

  She felt along the frame until she came to the latch and gasped...it was gone. She felt around the whole door—nothing. There was no way for her to get out of the room.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Rhys stood near the edge of the woods with his arms crossed. Haidar waited somewhere out there for him and, knowing him as well as Rhys did, he knew there would be no avoiding a confrontation. But then the day he had agreed to help Anala, he knew this time would come. He could have been free, Haidar forever out of his life, but he had given his word to Anala.

  He thought about the lie he told to his wife, but he had given his word and his word was something that he always kept. He had been with Anala when she gave birth. Sadly, she died, though the babe had survived, and he had given her his word that he would never tell anyone about the child and he would make certain the child was kept safe. She also left a message to be given to Haidar, if given the chance, and Rhys was eager to give it to him.

  It took Haidar longer to find him than he had expected, but that had worked to his advantage. He had his ghost warriors and a massive army at his disposal, though he would not dismiss Haidar’s ability to defeat him. What he needed to remember was that Haidar did the unexpected, upsetting his enemies and proving victorious more times than not.

  Rhys had known full well this day would come. He had waited for it, prepared for it, was eager for it. His one regret when he had won his freedom was that he would not see Haidar dead. Taking his wife gave Rhys the chance to satisfy that regret.

  Rhys heard the footfalls behind him and waited for Pitt to reach his side. “Still no luck in finding the rest of Rab’s body?”

  “No a sign of it,” Pitt confirmed.

  “And not one of the warriors who were keeping watch on McDolan saw anything?”

  “He was snatched right out from under everyone.” Pitt shook his head. “Perhaps the head was sufficient for his message and he disposed of the rest of the body.”

  “No, the head was a message for me. Haidar lets me know that he will severe me from all I hold close. The body will surface elsewhere on purpose.” Rhys cast an eye up at the graying clouds. “Have you made any progress with Nessa?”

  “She spares me barely a moment, while she gives freely of her time to Fife.”

  Rhys turned his head and a slight grin surfaced. “She prefers Fife over you.”

  “I
cannot believe it myself, though I think I am making some small progress. She spoke with me a bit longer than she usually does the last two times I engaged with her.”

  “So what you are telling me is that you have learned nothing as of yet.”

  “Only that Fife brings her flowers far too often and I have heard him tell her just as often how beautiful she is—he is definitely right about that—and she is even more beautiful when she smiles.”

  Rhys’s grin grew.

  Pitt threw his hands up. “And he follows her around like a lovesick pup. I do not think there is a place she goes that he does not follow.”

  Rhys’ smile vanished and Pitt’s eyes widened.

  “It has been right there in front of me this whole time,” Pitt said with an angry snarl for not seeing it sooner.

  “He also was the one who found the severed head,” Rhys reminded.

  “I should have seen it,” Pitt said, growing angrier with himself.

  “We both should have seen it, but Fife has been with us about a year, enough time for him to prove himself worthy of becoming a ghost warrior and for us to accept and trust him.”

  “What do you want done with him?”

  “Watch him. Put only our most trusted and skilled men on him and when the time is right...he will be mine to deal with.”

  “What of Nessa?”

  “You know you can say nothing to her.”

  “I do not want to see her hurt. She has a generous heart.”

  “Then set doubt in her mind as to how she feels about him,” Rhys said.

  “I think her mind is firm on him.”

  “Not if she lingered the last few times to speak with you.”

  “You think?”

  Rhys laughed. “I never thought I would see you doubt yourself with a woman.”

  “And I never thought I would ever see you laugh.”

  “The right woman can do that to a man...make him do what he did not think possible.”

  Pitt stepped back, a look of horror on his face. “Bite your tongue. I am not falling in love with Nessa.”

  “I never said you were,” Rhys said and laughed again, “now come with me.

  “It is a ridiculous thought,” Pitt said, keeping pace beside him and repeatedly refuting Rhys’ claim with each step he took.

  ~~~

  Heather leaned her shoulder against the door. She had pounded on it and shouted for help until her throat was dry. It was just a matter of time before Rhys discovered her missing and searched for her. She simply had to be patient. As far as the dark, not knowing what was in it caused more fear than the darkness itself. But there was nothing in this room that could harm her and she very much doubted the secret passage was in here, allowing someone to sneak up on her. There was no telling when this door would be opened or closed. So if the culprit made his way in from outside, he could find himself unable to enter the keep.

  At least she had eliminated one room where the secret passage could be hidden.

  She turned her head suddenly, thinking she heard a sound and smiled when she heard footfalls and voices growing closer.

  Pitt stepped off the top step after Rhys. “First Rab McLaud gets beaten to death by his father-in-law, Hew McDolan, then Haidar steals his body from McDolan, severs his head, and sends it to you. I wonder what is going to happen to the rest of him.”

  Heather’s shout never reached her lips. She could not believe what she had just heard and she would hear more before she let them know of her presence.

  Rhys stopped, realizing no torch flickered, though a modicum of light came from the open door of the one room. He spoke to Pitt as he went to see what happened with the torch. “Make no mistake he will make use of the rest of Rab’s body. He may leave it on Macinnes land to fuel the winds of war between McLaud and Macinnes, making sure my warriors are busy elsewhere or he may deliver it directly to Greer McLaud and tell him that he saw the Macinnes chop off his brother’s head and cast it to the animals. Whatever he chooses to do will benefit his plans.”

  “Shall I have a message sent to the Macinnes alerting them of the situation?”

  “Not yet,” Rhys said as he saw that there was no torch in the sconce.

  His response had Heather pounding on the door and shouting. “Let me out! Let me out now!”

  Rhys hurried to the door upon hearing his wife’s anxious pleas.

  As soon as it opened, Heather stepped out and stepped right in front of her husband. All the things she intended to say died on her lips. They did not seem as important as the words that spilled out instead. “You do not trust me enough to tell me the truth.” Her hand went to her chest. “I thought, I truly thought...” She shook her head and went to rush past Pitt when she was grabbed. She was jerked to a stop and she turned to see and feel her husband’s fingers close strongly around her arm.

  Pitt took his leave without being told to do so.

  No tears came to her eyes, though her heart ached. Then like cold water being thrown in her face, sensibility returned to her. She berated herself silently. How could she have thought of herself before her family? Their safety was more important than her worrying that Rhys did not trust her.

  “My family needs to know about this,” she said.

  “They will know when I am ready to tell them.”

  “They could be in danger,” she argued.

  “They could be in more danger if I told them.”

  She tried to pull away from him, but he held her much too tight.

  “I do trust you, wife,” Rhys said.

  Heather was too angry to hear the sincerity in his words and so she lashed out, “But not enough to confide the truth.”

  “Some things are better left unspoken,” he said.

  “Not between husband and wife.”

  “You need to trust me on this,” he said sternly.

  “And you need to trust me.”

  ~~~

  Heather sat in the chair by the fire with her legs drawn up and her arms wrapped around them. She had not seen her husband since he had deposited her there a couple of hours ago and ordered her to stay put.

  She had no want to go wandering about. She was too upset. He wanted her to trust him, yet he did not trust her, though he said he did and thinking on it he had sounded sincere. Could his reason for not telling her about Rab be a vital one?

  All these years, she had the unwavering support of her family while Rhys had suffered as a slave to an evil man. How could she expect him to trust her as easily as she trusted him?

  A flame jumped and shot a spark out, the tiny ember dying slowly on the hearth stone. Had it been like that for Quinn, a slow death until Rhys was forced to be born? And what was it he had said.

  I know only hate not love.

  She could not imagine living without love. The love of her father, her sisters, friends, the clan and even her mum’s love, though she had died those many years ago. So somewhere deep inside him, he must have remembered the love she had for him. Why else had he returned here and wed her?

  She realized then that she was expecting him to be as he was before and that man was no more. She had to be patient like she often warned her sister to be. It would take time and trust, whether he gave the same to her or not.

  A light tap sounded at the door and Heather went and opened it to find Nessa standing there, looking upset.

  “I am so sorry to bother you, my lady, but Fife is not feeling well. His wound is troubling him and though he told me I was not to bother you, it breaks my heart to see him suffer.”

  “I will have a look at him,” Heather said, “though it does trouble me that his wound has not healed as it should.”

  “It is because he does not follow what you tell him. He waits outside by the kitchen garden, thinking I am bringing him a special treat, which of course I will once you are done tending him.”

  “And do I get a special treat for tending him?” Heather asked with a smile as they walked to the stairs.

  “I am
so sorry, my lady, I spoke out of turn, but there are times you seem more a friend than mistress of this keep.”

  “I am glad of that. It reminds me more of home.”

  “It was the same with your mum. I remember your mum visiting our cottage when I was very young. She sat and spoke with my mum as if they were great friends.” Nessa stopped when they reached the bottom of the stairs. “Word spreads about your dealing with the wolf. Some whisper that you are a witch, others who knew your mum say that you have a special touch with animals just as she once did.”

  “It is nice to know I am like my mum.”

  “You are in more ways than you know.”

  Heather remarked on how delicious the kitchen smelled as she walked through it and outside to the garden along with Nessa.

  Fife jumped up off the bench, an angry scowl on his face as she and Heather approached him. “You should not have disturbed Lady Heather.”

  “You should have told me that your wound still troubles you,” Heather said as they drew closer.

  The attack came fast, the warrior, his face smeared with dirt, lunging and barely catching Fife on the arm as he reached to draw a dagger from the attacker’s waist. It was a quick scuffle more than a fight, the two men falling to the ground one after the other.

  Nessa screamed and ran to Fife.

  Pitt seemed to come out of nowhere and grabbed her around the waist, pulling her away from Fife.

  Nessa struggled to free herself. “No, no let me go to him.”

  Heather, seeing Fife writhe in agony on the ground, went to help him when she was grabbed around the waist and flung away from him before her hands could touch him, her feet dangling above the ground as her husband held her against him.

  Rhys moved a few feet away from the two writhing men and yelled out, “No one touch them.”

  Fife never looked Nessa’s way. He kept his eyes on the Dragon and just before he took his last breath, he choked out, “Victory for Haidar.”

  The other man said the same before he died.

  Rhys called out again. “Do not touch their bodies; they have been poisoned and if you touch them you will die.”