by Donna Grant
It wasn’t a matter of if Deirdre regained her magic, it was when. When that time came, Deirdre would eventually find her, and Deirdre would use anything at her disposal against Isla. That included everyone at MacLeod Castle.
Isla looked up at the imposing structure of the castle built on the edge of the cliffs. Through destruction, fire, abandonment, and even isolation, the stones still stood proud and defiant. Much like the MacLeods themselves.
Could she find as much courage in herself? Did she dare?
Isla sat to put her stockings and shoes back on before she started up the path to the castle. She was halfway up when her foot slipped.
A hand grabbed her arm to stop her slide. Isla looked up to find Marcail smiling down at her.
“I think I found you at a good time,” Marcail said.
Isla returned her smile and regained her footing. “Thank you. This path is dangerous. I’m surprised Quinn hasn’t told you not to come down here.”
“Oh, he has.” Marcail shrugged, a twinkle in her eye. “But I saw you and wanted to speak with you.”
Isla straightened and dusted off her hands. “About what?”
Marcail pointed to a section of the path that veered off to the left. “Cara told me about this path. Would you like to take a walk?”
“All right.” Isla glanced at the castle. Whatever Marcail wanted to say, she wanted it done in private.
She followed Marcail for a ways down the path. It was several feet below the edge of the cliff, but Isla could tell that at one time it had been a well used trail.
“Quinn told me that they used to use this path to hunt when he was a lad,” Marcail said. She looked over her shoulder and shrugged. “Cara used it when she ran away. She thought to leave so Deirdre wouldn’t harm Lucan.”
“Deirdre would have come for Lucan anyway.”
Marcail paused and turned to face her. “I know that. I saw for myself the evil that Deirdre is. Larena saw a small part of it, but Sonya and Cara have only heard stories. I’d like to keep it that way.”
“We all would.” Isla had seen more horrors than anyone could comprehend, but she wasn’t about to tell Marcail that.
Marcail lowered herself onto the ground and drew her knees up to her chest. Isla followed suit a moment later, and though her gaze was on the sea, she knew Marcail was troubled. It didn’t take Isla long to realize what it was.
“You cannot recall the spell to bind the gods, can you?”
Marcail sighed and shook her head. “Those magical black flames Deirdre threw me in did something to my magic. Even after Quinn pulled me out, I nearly died.”
“That fire was not meant to keep you alive like the blue flames for my sister. The flames Deirdre put you in were meant to keep you locked away from everyone. It would have killed you. Your magic protected you, but in doing so, you lost some of it.”
“I lost nearly all of it. I wasn’t a very strong Druid to begin with.” Marcail smiled sadly. “My mother thought it was time we moved on from the old ways. When she died, I had lost years of valuable time in which to learn how to use and control my magic.”
“What happened?”
“My grandmother was an especially powerful mie. She taught me as much as she could while she lived. It wasn’t until I was in the Pit and fell in love with Quinn that I began to remember the spell.”
Isla’s mouth fell open. “You remembered it? Why didn’t you use it?”
“I recalled parts of it. My grandmother had made it so I would never know the spell until I had fallen in love.” Marcail dashed at her eyes to wipe away a tear. “When I went into the black flames, it took the spell. I’ve tried everything I know to remember it.”
Isla reached over and put her hand atop Marcail’s. She hadn’t willingly touched anyone until she had come to MacLeod Castle. Now, it seemed almost natural. “Has Sonya or Cara not been able to help you?”
“Cara is still learning her magic. She knows even less than I do, and Sonya has tried to help me. Nothing has helped.”
“You want to know if I can do anything.”
Marcail turned her unusual turquoise eyes to her and nodded. “You have powerful magic. Is there anything you can do?”
“I wish I could.” She looked back out to the sea, unable to watch the hurt in Marcail’s eyes. “Once your magic has been taken, you cannot retrieve it. The fact you have any left at all tells me that you had great magic inside you.”
“And I lost it.”
Isla stood and held out her hand to Marcail. “You did what you had to do to keep the spell from Deirdre. Do not discount your valor, Marcail. You did the right thing.”
“Did I?” Marcail used Isla’s hand and stood.
“Aye.”
Marcail blew out a harsh breath and squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. “Tell that to the Warriors. They are still waiting on me to remember the spell.”
“Does Quinn know you can’t recall the spell?”
“Aye, and his brothers know.”
“Then the others need to know as well. It is better that they not continue to hope.”
Marcail looked at her with such sorrow that it nearly brought tears to Isla’s own eyes.
“They know it’s a possibility that the spell might have vanished forever. I just hate to disappoint any of them.”
Isla knew all about disappointment. “They’ll understand.”
“Thank you anyway,” Marcail said and began to retrace her steps back to the castle.
Isla lifted her sodden skirts and hurried after her. “Marcail. Wait. There is one thing you can do. I don’t know if it will help, but since you are descended from powerful Druids, it just might.”
“What is it?” Marcail asked, her face alight with hope as she swung toward Isla.
“Find whatever feeds your magic, be it the earth, trees, water, whatever. Go there and open yourself to the magic.”
“That’s what I did while in the Pit.” Marcail’s brow furrowed in concern. “I nearly lost myself in the magic.”
Isla nodded. “There is a chance of that, aye. You need to have someone with you, someone who can pull you out if necessary. With the babe, you might not want to chance it now.”
Marcail looked down as her hands cradled her stomach. “I don’t want to hurt my child. Quinn has lost so much already, I couldn’t bear to face him if something I did harmed our baby.”
“Then wait,” Isla advised. “A few months won’t matter. Feed your magic until then. The babe inside you should help to strengthen the magic you lost.”
“You mean the child will have magic?”
Isla shrugged. “I don’t see why it wouldn’t. Even with what happened in Cairn Toul, you still have magic.”
Marcail laughed as tears began to spill down her face. “I feared there would be nothing for my child.”
Isla wasn’t so sure that would have been a bad thing. Magic in these times wasn’t a positive, not with Deirdre and the Christians who feared anyone who believed other than they did. But Isla wasn’t about to condemn Marcail’s dreams for her unborn child. The world would do that soon enough.
* * *
Deirdre wanted to scream her frustration, but she couldn’t. She floated as nothing more than a spirit, unable to do anything other than communicate with Dunmore and her wyrran. And even that exhausted her limited magic.
She had tried to contact Isla numerous times, but either the little bitch was dead or her magic was so inadequate that Isla could ignore her. Neither was good.
Deirdre needed Isla. If the MacLeods and their Warriors had not defeated her, Deirdre would know in an instant if Isla was dead or not.
Of course, if Deirdre had her full power restored, finding Isla dead or alive wouldn’t be an issue. Now, Deirdre had to focus her wyrran on finding a Druid just so she could once more have a body.
Until then, if Isla was alive, she was free to do as she wished. Afterward … Deirdre smiled. Afterward, Isla would do as she commanded, and then Isla would
pay with her life.
Deirdre floated from her chamber down the corridor to where she had found Grania lying dead in a pool of blood. Deirdre didn’t know who had killed Grania, but she would discover who did it and flay the skin from their bodies.
Grania had begun as a test to see how far Deirdre could push Isla, but after several decades, the child had grown on Deirdre. They had spent much time together, and Deirdre had known then she would keep Grania with her always.
Now the child was gone from her, taken without so much as a blink.
Rage built inside Deirdre, feeding the evil and helping to restore her magic. She continued to nourish her anger. Every time she saw a dead Druid, a slain wyrran or Warrior, or her mountain destroyed, she thought of the MacLeods.
She had wanted the brothers to align with her. Now she just wanted them and any Warrior who dared to ally with them destroyed.
* * *
The rest of the day crawled for Isla. Not even her earlier worry whether the pudding and pastries would taste good could help her sort through the jumble of emotions inside her.
It didn’t hurt that Hayden was in the village helping to rebuild the cottages. At least she was saved from having to see him and remember their kiss.
That was until supper. It had been near impossible for her not to look at him, and whenever she did, his gaze was on her as well. It left her all too aware of him and what his kisses had done to her.
Her body warmed and her blood turned to fire. There was a peculiar, but pleasurable, feeling in the pit of her stomach. Her breathing was erratic, and Isla couldn’t seem to think clearly.
She’d tried to leave the hall early, but everyone wanted to tell her how much they loved her pastries. It wasn’t until she promised more that she was able to get away.
Now, as she paced her tower, she wondered if she should have stayed in the hall. Maybe she could have spoken with Hayden.
And said what?
She didn’t know. It wasn’t as if she had experience with this type of thing. It was all new to her, especially the longing, the everpresent, never-ending need he had set into motion since he came into her chamber and almost kissed her.
There had been times in the past when she had encountered a man who caught her interest, but she had never allowed herself to do anything about it. She was who she was, and that meant she had to be alone.
Isla sighed and reached for her comb. Brushing her hair had always helped to calm her. She sat on the edge of her bed and watched the light from her single candle dance on the opposite wall while she ran the comb through her hair.
She didn’t know how long she sat like that before she caught a whiff of spice and woods.
Hayden.
His hand covered hers that held the comb. He took the comb from her and slowly, tenderly brushed her hair. He was gentle as he glided it from her head to the ends that fell to her waist.
“There is something compelling about watching a woman brush her hair.”
Isla shivered at the sound of his deep, rich voice. “It is merely a chore.”
“I think not. I think you get as much joy out of it as I do.”
She licked her lips and tried not to think of his firm mouth that had kissed her into oblivion. She’d have done anything he asked of her after that kiss. And she feared that would never change.
“I want to finish what we began on the beach,” he whispered near her ear.
Chills raced over her skin and her stomach fluttered with anticipation, with excitement. Isla turned to face him, afraid he was serious and terrified he wasn’t.
The candlelight left much of his face in shadow, but she saw his black eyes. Even in the dim light she recognized the hunger, the yearning she glimpsed because it was the same within herself.
“I don’t know if that’s wise,” she said. She had to keep him at a distance, if for no reason other than preserving her own sanity.
He smiled then, a knowing, seductive smile that lifted one side of his mouth and made her heart skip a beat. “It most certainly isna wise, but I’ve tried to stay away. I cannot. Can you?”
Isla opened her mouth to deny it, but it would be lying to herself and him. “Nay.”
It was all the encouragement he needed. Hayden knelt on the bed and pulled her, slowly, surely into his arms. As soon as those bands of steel wrapped around her, Isla was lost. Her own arms wound around his neck and into the cool blond silk of his hair. It hung to his shoulders, thick and golden, at complete odds with the darkness of his eyes.
Those eyes watched her now. He studied her, gauging her reaction. “Do you want this? Tell me the truth. I have to know.”
“Aye, Hayden. I want this.” She wanted it like she had wanted nothing else before.
Before the last word was out of her mouth his lips were on hers. The kiss was passionate and fiery, intense and consuming. With each stroke of his tongue on hers, she felt her body sag against him, felt herself come alive.
Passion coiled low in her belly, urging her onward, begging her to follow the desire that heated her blood and pumped through her body.
Everything she was, everything she had been, and everything she wanted disappeared in Hayden’s arms. He made the world vanish, leaving just the two of them and their passion that wouldn’t be denied.
She tugged at the pin holding the tartan over his heart while his hands gathered her skirts at her waist. There was a whooshing sound as his kilt tumbled off him to the floor. With his tartan at his feet, Isla tugged at his shirt, wanting it gone so she could run her hands over his sun-bronzed skin and the powerful muscles beneath.
“Take off your gown before I slice it off you,” he ground out as he jerked his saffron shirt over his head and tossed it aside.
Isla hurried to rid herself of her clothes, and when she looked up, Hayden stood by the bed watching her in all his naked glory.
She caught her breath, once more entranced by the utter perfection, the sheer beauty of Hayden. It was as if the gods had sculpted him themselves, fashioned him into the ultimate warrior, untamed and wild.
And the seamless combination of danger and excitement as a lover.
With a finger, Isla traced down his chest to his narrow waist and over his slim hips to his bulging thighs. She had never touched a man like this before, had never wanted to. Yet, she couldn’t get enough of Hayden.
He knelt between her legs and took off first one shoe, then the other. Next, he reached up and began to roll down her stockings, all the while keeping his eyes locked with hers.
The promise of pleasure she saw in his dark depths made her desire settle deep within her and throb low and steady. Waiting for his kiss, waiting for his touch.
Isla shook with desire and the feel of Hayden’s fingers lightly skimming her skin. He worked the stocking down slowly, as if he wanted to prolong the sweet torment of his touch.
She dropped her head back when he pulled off the first stocking and lifted her foot to place a kiss at her ankle. A moan escaped her when his hands reached up to her hips and caressed downward to her other stocking.
Isla’s hips came off the bed when he came close to touching her sex. His fingers had teased the curls between her legs, tempting her with his touch, building her anticipation.
Her sex throbbed, eager for contact. For Hayden.
He took the same leisurely, sweet time he had on her first leg as he did on the second. This time, when he removed her stocking, he kissed her knee.
Isla fisted her hands in the blanket to help anchor her and the rioting sensations that flooded her body. She feared, yet craved, what came next. And when Hayden rose up to lean over her, she knew that whatever happened, she would never regret giving in to the passion he called forth. A passion that engulfed her.
EIGHTEEN
Hayden didn’t think he had ever seen anything so exquisite, so breathtaking as the vision of Isla lying naked and wanting beneath him.
Her black locks were spread around her, her chest rising and falling r
apidly, and her startling ice-blue eyes locked with his. She was aroused and ready. Waiting.
For him.
Her slender, curvy body had been taken straight from his dreams. He wanted to touch all of her, learn every nuance of her body in order to bring her pleasure so intense, so incredible she wouldn’t be able to string two words together.
But where to begin first was the problem.
Unable to deny himself another taste, Hayden leaned down and kissed her. She eagerly opened for him, spurring his already burning lust to new heights, engulfing both of them in the reckless flames of desire.
Her hands, tentative and soft, touched his sides before moving up and over his back. In the wake of her touch, trails of heat lit his flesh.
Every touch, every sigh only brought him deeper under her spell. Only made him crave her, covet her ever more since the moment he had found her on Cairn Toul.
He shifted to his side and placed his hand on her hip as he deepened the kiss. She moaned into his mouth, impatient for more. Hayden glided his hand over the swell of her hip to the indent of her small waist up to her breast.
His thumb caressed the underside of Isla’s breast before he cupped it. Her nipple was hard and straining, eager for his touch.
He wanted to go slow, to savor her, but need rode him hard. Coupled with Isla’s growing passion, Hayden knew he would have to force himself not to lose control or he’d hurt her.
The fact he was kissing, caressing a drough didn’t dampen his passion. He didn’t stop to ask why, just accepted it for the moment. Later, he would allow himself to wonder how he could desire her as he did.
Hayden groaned when her nails scraped his back, sending chills over his skin. He’d never yearned, never hungered, never needed anyone as he did Isla in that moment.
He kissed down her neck to the valley between her breasts as he rolled her nipple between his fingers. She panted, soft moans of delight passing from her seductive lips.
His cock ached to be inside her, but he held himself in check. He wanted to taste more of her, learn more of her before he gave into his need.