Highland Nights

by Donna Grant

  Fiona laughed, but he knew it was forced. "Am I so repulsive? The men in my clan claim otherwise."

  "You know you aren't homely," he said and walked to the horses.

  "Gregor--"

  "Enough of the tricks." He swiveled toward her to give her a piece of his mind when he found her standing with her hands on her hips and a brow arched. "What?"

  "You might want to see this."

  He strode to her side and saw men riding hard towards them. There was no mistaking the MacLachlan plaid. "Damn. We need to ride."

  When he turned around she was already mounted. "What's taking you so long?" she asked.

  He bit his tongue and leapt atop Morgane. "Ride, Fiona," he shouted.

  "I thought Aimery said we wouldn't be bothered again," she shouted over her shoulder.

  "These are different men. They must have been on patrol and spotted us."

  "I thought the MacLachlan's were friendly."

  He caught up with her and shrugged. "I would rather not find out. I want to be off MacLachlan land by nightfall."

  * * * *

  Beathan MacLachlan comforted his grieving wife. "Are you sure 'twas him?" he asked his soldiers.

  "Aye, laird. I would know Gregor anywhere."

  "He returned, Beathan," Margaret cried. "Our only child had returned to us. Now he's gone again."

  "He was with a woman, laird. They ran as soon as they spotted us," the soldier explained. "They were too far ahead for us to catch them in the hills."

  "No one knows the mountains like Gregor," Beathan said. He waved away the soldiers and concentrated on his wife. "I will find him, Margaret. I promise."

  He slumped into his chair before the hearth as his wife went to their chamber. If only he could undo time he would change the past and the harsh things he had said, and done, to Gregor.

  That day, so long ago, he had lost both his children. One to death and one to banishment. It had taken years for Margaret to forgive him. When word had reached them that day that Gregor was on MacLachlan land he had immediately sent soldiers to bring him home.

  Only things hadn't turned out as he had hoped. His only wish was to tell Gregor he was sorry for not standing beside him, for not believing him, and to ask his forgiveness.

  "Gregor, my son, please come home."

  The door to the castle flew open. Beathan stood and reached for his sword as two men walked in. "Who are you?" he asked.

  "The ones who will urge Gregor to return home."

  * * * *

  A cold chill encased Fiona. She tried to keep it from Gregor, because she knew he would think she was becoming ill from being in the rain, but he saw it anyway.

  "We need to find shelter," he hollered above the roar of the rain.

  She nodded, but feared even a fire wouldn't warm the chill that encased her soul. Something terrible had happened, but she didn't know what.

  They continued through the downpour that had suddenly come upon them. She kept her head down while Gregor looked among the mountainside for a cave. They come across several that had either been occupied by some animal or too small.

  A shrill whistle brought her head up. He pointed to his left, and she could just make out the entrance to the cave. By this time she was willing to share the cave with an animal. The plaid she had wrapped around her was soaked through, and now so were her clothes.

  She waited outside the cave entrance as Gregor looked around. He was back in no time leading her horse into the cave. She slid off her mare and began to unsaddle the horse while he took care of Morgane.

  After the horses had been seen too, he tossed her another plaid. She caught it before it hit the ground and gave him a bright smile. "It seems like you are always trying to get me out of my clothes."

  He didn't comment, but she had seen the slight lift of his lips before he had turned around. While he scrounged for dry wood she hurriedly undressed and wrapped the dry plaid around her.

  Try as she might, she couldn't push the fear aside that something dreadful had happened. Or was about to happen. If only she could figure out what it was.

  Fat lot of good her Druid powers did when she couldn't fully use them. She needed a bowl of water so she could look into it. It didn't always work, but right now she needed to try.

  The problem was she didn't want Gregor to know what was on her mind. She needed to figure this out on her own, of that she was certain.

  She needed a little time alone, and she knew of only one way to achieve that. With the plaid wrapped around her and one arm outside of it, she made her way to Gregor.

  His leather garments clung to him like a second skin as he moved. It had been her intention to get close to him again, but once she reached him, her only thought was to feel his lips on hers.

  No more trickery or wiles. She truly wanted to know his kiss, the feel of his firm lips moving over her mouth and skin.

  Her body heated just thinking about him. She knew she would have to guard her heart well, for if it was true and all Druids had the ability to find their true mate, then she would have no control over her heart.

  Unless she made sure their union was only physical and not emotional.

  "Fiona?"

  His voice, rich and firm, made her stomach flip flop. Unsure now of whether she wanted time alone or to try and kiss Gregor, she raised her gaze to him.

  There must have been something in her eyes she hadn't been able to hide because he cursed and spun on his heel as he stalked to the horses.

  With a deep sigh she turned and rummaged through her bag. She found the bowl she and Helen had painted black and poured water in it. After she arranged herself comfortably before the fire and with her back to Gregor, she gazed deep within the bowl.

  In the next heartbeat the scenes of her nightmares played out before her, but only in brief glimpses. Her frustration mounted until she was barely able to control it. Then she saw MacNeil and her heart plummeted to her feet.

  "Nay," she whispered.

  Somehow, someway, MacNeil was responsible for the coldness that had encased her soul for the last few hours. But what could he have done?

  She knew instinctively that her sisters were unharmed, but that didn't help in finding out who MacNeil had harmed--or intended to harm.

  A horse nicker broke her concentration. She sat the bowl down and wondered what she should do next. A look over her shoulder found Gregor staring out into the rain.

  The desolation surrounding him saddened her. Before she knew it, she was on her feet and walking toward him. He turned toward her, his black eyes filled with grief and ... resignation.

  Whatever he had done must have been awful for it to fill his life and have him banished. His hurt brought out the compassionate side of her, and she thought if she could take away some of his sorrow it would relieve her pain as well.

  He didn't push her hand away as she brought it up to his face. The feel of his unshaven face beneath her hands was a sensation she never realized she would like so much. The whiskers prickled her palm, but the warmth of his skin in contrast was heady.

  She ran her hand down his cheek to his strong jaw, all the while studying his mouth. He hadn't moved, but she could tell her touch affected him by the slight stiffening of his body.

  With more boldness than she had ever revealed to herself or anyone, she leaned toward him, wanting, needing his kiss. His scent of leather, horse and sandalwood filled her senses. She sighed and slightly parted her mouth as her body came in contact with his.

  He was all man. More man than she had ever encountered. He stirred her body to life, made her think of being with him as only a man and a woman could.

  She was a breath away from having his lips meet her when he jerked back. Could she have been wrong about him? Maybe he wasn't her mate, because her mate would never turn away from her. Twice.

  Gregor tried to ignore the hurt that flashed in Fiona's green eyes, but he couldn't. His body screamed for him to taste her, to finally know if she held the nectar o
f the gods in her mouth. Before he allowed himself to change his mind, he brought his hands to her face and crushed his mouth to hers.

  And then he tasted rapture.

  Her mouth opened eagerly for his, and the softness of her lips only spurred his desire to new heights. And all with a simple kiss.

  When her arms came around him, he couldn't hold back the groan that escaped him at the contact of her supple body against his chest.

  He plundered her mouth as though this was his only chance to taste such bliss. Her willing acceptance of his rough, demanding kiss only made him want more of her as their tongues dueled.

  His breath lodged in his chest as her fingers entwined with his hair and gently scraped the back of his neck, sending chills down his body.

  She was going to be the death of him. He couldn't get enough of her, and when he began thinking of lowering her to the ground to take her, he knew he had reached the stopping point.

  He tried to gently pull away from her, but she refused to let go and pressed her lips to his. When her tongue swept inside his mouth he nearly gave in.

  Nearly.

  He jerked out of her arms. Her chest rose and fell rapidly and her lips were swollen from his kisses. It didn't help that her eyes were glazed with desire, and his body demanded release.

  For him to stay this close to her would be his downfall. He had to get away from her. He turned and strode out of the cave into the rain.

  He let the rain wash over him as he leaned against the side of the mountain trying to regain his senses that had went spiraling out of control at her first touch.

  Damn, he was a fool to have allowed himself to taste her. He had known from the look of longing in her eyes that he needed to get away. He just hadn't gone far enough.

  Now with her taste still on his tongue all he could think of was her. Why had she come to him?

  He closed his eyes as the rain ran down his face and onto his already wet clothes. There was no denying she had touched a part of him that he thought long buried.

  That part of him had died with his sister. He had shown himself, and his clan, just what a monster he was with Anne's death. 'Twas why he had tried to refuse this mission Moira had sent him on.

  He had no right bringing Fiona to the Druid's Glen, and he certainly had no right taking such liberties with one the Fae had blessed.

  Yet, there was no rejecting the fact that it had felt right kissing Fiona. His world hadn't been so hopeless and barren. It had almost seemed like there had been a ray of hope, but that had quickly fled once they parted.

  It must be the Druid in her that allowed him to feel such things. It wasn't real, and he needed to remind himself of that.

  * * * *

  Aimery clutched his chest as the coldness swept over him. He gazed unseeing down at the many books that littered the desk. Something evil had happened, and he could almost guarantee it was the Evil One.

  He leaned his head back and concentrated. It was easy to find MacNeil. The man stank of treachery and murder. But what startled Aimery was where MacNeil was.

  "MacLachlan."

  There was a space beside MacNeil that Aimery knew belonged to the Evil One. Once again the Evil One used Fae magic.

  Whatever time Aimery thought he had grew slim. MacNeil had arrived at MacLachlan's much sooner than anticipated, but Aimery wasn't worried about Gregor's clan. MacNeil and the Evil One wouldn't do anything until Gregor arrived.

  That gave Aimery the little time he needed to continue perusing the books. Somewhere in these massive tomes had to be something about mortals or Druids using Faerie magic.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Fiona stared, dazed, after Gregor. Her heart still beat wildly, and her body yearned for more of him, but she was happy. She had finally gotten her kiss and it was everything she had hoped and dreamed it would be.

  She touched her lips and sighed. If only he hadn't run from her. There was no running now though. She would snare him, because after that kiss there was no use refusing that he was her mate.

  With a smile on her face that she hadn't worn in months, she curled up beside the fire and tried to sleep. But sleep eluded her.

  She wanted to make sure Gregor returned and didn't leave her alone. She couldn't bear for that to happen. Besides, she was the one who would leave him.

  Just as she was about to start worrying, he walked into the cave. He stopped and turned towards her, and she hastily shut her eyes except for a slit so she could see him. For the longest time, he watched her before he turned his back and began to undress.

  The leather was stuck to his skin from the rain. He pulled off his vest, and the expanse of golden skin that narrowed to a trim waist caused her mouth to water. Muscles rippled in his neck and shoulder blades as he moved, and it was then she noticed it.

  The scar ran from the bottom of his right shoulder blade, in a curve, toward his spine. It was an old scar from the look of it. She forgot about the scar when he slipped off his boots and began to pull down his trews. Her breath lodged in her chest at what she saw.

  Just as she was about to get her first glimpse of him naked, he stopped and spun around toward her. It was all she could do to keep her breathing even and continue to pretend she slept.

  To her overwhelming disappointment, Gregor decided against shedding his pants and laid down by the fire. It was going to be a very long night.

  She slept fitfully. Every time she woke she found Gregor awake. She knew she would never survive another hard ride without some rest and so forced herself to drift off to sleep.

  It seemed only an instant before the dream woke her. She opened her eyes to find Gregor across the fire staring at her.

  "Another one?" he asked.

  She nodded and sat up. The dawn had yet to arrive, but from the gray sky it wasn't far off. There was no use trying to find sleep again.

  "And I suppose you still won't tell me about it?"

  How could she tell him she had seen MacNeil murder a man, but she had no idea who this man was? It sounded strange to her ears.

  "I might be able to help," he offered while stirring the fire with a stick.

  She thought about his comment as she began to dress. Then she had a thought. "I will tell you if you tell me why you were banished."

  "Nay."

  His reply was immediate. There had been no thinking about her proposition. "Are you afraid I will think differently about you?"

  "I don't think, Fiona. I know. Why do you think my clan banished me?" He rose to his feet, his anger palpable.

  The weight of her dreams weighed heavily on her, and for the first time in her life she wanted to share them. He was about to walk out of the cave when she said, "I saw MacNeil again. He's the central part of the dreams."

  That stopped Gregor in his tracks. "And," he prompted when he turned toward her. "What is he doing?"

  "Killing a man. A laird of a clan by the looks of it." She raised her eyes to find one side of his mouth lifted in a half smile.

  "You trust me enough to tell me?"

  That brought a smile to her face. She walked to stand beside him at the entrance to the cave. With the previous day's rain finished, the new day dawned splendidly.

  The sky was a dusky pink as the sun began its ascent. It cast the mountains around them into shadow, making them look like hulking black monsters.

  "I know you couldn't possibly understand why I have no wish to see Moira again but that is part of the reason I don't trust people," she said.

  He stood beside her, hands locked behind his back. "Aye. I think I do understand. I don't trust people either."

  "What a pair we make," she said and smiled at him. Memories of the night before and their kiss ascended on her.

  He stepped back. "We, ah, need to get moving."

  She didn't argue as she began to pack. It wouldn't take long to wear down this wall he built around himself. The hardest battle had been fought the night before.

  He wanted her. There was no doubt about that aft
er that hungry kiss they had shared. Getting him to admit it would be another thing, but she didn't need for him to admit it. She just needed him to want her so badly that he forgot about his sorrow.

  * * * *

  Aimery chuckled while he reclined in a chair with one of the many books in his lap. Fiona and Gregor were quite a match if he did say so himself. She was coming into her own power nicely and would soon wear Gregor down. No man could stand against something as beautiful as Fiona and not fall.

  The smile Aimery wore vanished quickly as Fiona's soul deep fear penetrated him. There was only one person who could cause that kind of fear.

  "MacNeil."

  Aimery delved deep into Fiona's mind and saw her nightmares. He sighed. He couldn't interfere in this. MacNeil wanted Fiona and Gregor, and he was supposed to sit by and watch.

  There was no way he would allow that. So far, Fiona and Gregor had figured things out, and as long as they stayed away from MacNeil he would keep the Fae out of it.

  But that didn't mean he couldn't ready his army. MacNeil and the Evil One were using Fae magic. Definitely an advantage over Fiona and Gregor. Just because the army was there didn't mean they would interfere.

  At least that's what he would tell the king and queen if they discovered his plan.

  * * * *

  The sun shone bright and clear the next day as Fiona and Gregor continued their trek to the Druid's Glen. She was exhausted, but refused to allow him to see it. She didn't know how he could manage to continue after a night of little sleep, again, and she had a sneaking suspicion that he spent most of his nights like that.

  Few words had been spoken since the morning had dawned, and that was fine with her. She didn't know what to say to him and, apparently, he had nothing to say to her.

  They had eaten the noon meal while riding, and her backside was sore and in need of a hot bath. Gregor was different now that they were off MacLachlan land. He was more relaxed, if you could call a man as wild and untamed and powerful as he relaxed.

  "We will stop early tonight," he said as they crested a hill.

  Fiona was too tired to speak but when she caught sight of the loch below she did manage a small smile. She would get her bath after all. It wouldn't be hot, but a bath was a bath.