Darkest Highlander (21 page)

Deirdre.

It always worked on the Warriors. She hated to be so devious, but the facts were the facts. Meanwhile, she would show Broc that, curse or not, she wanted him.

She stepped out of his arms, but this time she was more careful about where she placed her feet. With a smile, she took his hand in hers and together they maneuvered the rocks. Fortunately, it wasn’t long before they were in the valley.

“We’ll start with this valley first. Which direction?” Broc asked as he looked first one way and then the other.

Sonya glanced to the right, the way Broc had flown them earlier. “To the left. I suspect if this tomb is so important the Celts made it very difficult to find.”

“Aye. I’m sure you’ve the right of it. With as many mountains and valleys around us, I fear we’ll be here for a verra long time.”

“What if someone has already entered the tomb?”

Broc blew out a harsh breath. “Let’s hope they have no’. It might keep the artifact out of Deirdre’s hands, but it willna put it in ours.”

Sonya hadn’t thought of that. She stubbed her toe on a rock and bit back a cry of pain. “It would make things much easier if the mist would leave.”

“Aye.”

She turned and looked at Broc, but she could only see his outline. She could have sworn she heard laughter in his voice.

It seemed they walked forever. Searching to no avail. The mist hampered them with every move. They ambled slowly over the land, Sonya’s frustration growing with every passing moment. Until Broc slid into a small indention in the earth.

For a heartbeat they both grew excited, thinking it might be the entrance to the burial mound. But in the end it was nothing.

“I doona like this,” Broc grumbled.

Sonya dusted off her hands and waited for Broc to return his grip to her arm. “You mean not being able to use the power of your god? Do you mean feeling as though you are a mortal again?”

A short chuckle came from beside her. “Aye. Exactly that.”

But his grumbling gave her an idea. “Leave me to look for the tomb while you see how close Deirdre is.”

She expected him to reject her idea immediately. Instead, he stood quietly contemplating her words.

“What if you encounter trouble?” he asked. “You no longer have a weapon.”

“The sooner you leave, the sooner you can return.”

He moved to stand in front of her as his other hand came up to hold her arm. Sonya’s hands rested on his chest as she raised her face to his.

“I doona want to return and find you hurt in any way.”

She smiled and nodded, knowing the thought of his supposed curse was making him worry. “I will be here waiting.”

“Make sure of it.”

His head came down and his lips fastened on hers. She sank into his kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck as he pulled her roughly against him.

The kiss was all ravenous passion and scorching heat. Sonya felt the unquenchable desire that stirred to life between them, the irresistible longing which couldn’t—and wouldn’t—be ignored. She was swept along and engulfed by his urgent, hungry kiss.

Heat filled her veins, flooded her body. She threaded her fingers in Broc’s blond locks. Her stomach quivered when she heard his low, hungry moan.

All too soon he broke the kiss and took a step back. The flare of yearning in his eyes and his hard arousal against her stomach only fanned the flames of her desire.

“Hurry,” she whispered.

He gave a small, reluctant jerk of his head, and then he was gone with the whooshing beat of his wings. She hadn’t even seen him call up his god.

Sonya licked her lips and took a deep breath. She was on her own, but she wasn’t afraid. There wasn’t time to be scared.

She put one foot in front of the other in slow, measured steps. The valley was wide, leaving various places the mound could be. She walked forward, careful of where she was going, but for all she knew the tomb could be right beside her.

Sonya stopped and put her hands on her hips. She decided to walk from one side of the valley to the other and back again. Sooner or later, in this valley or the next, she would find it.

An hour later and Sonya had made little progress. She had fallen twice, scraped her hand once, and banged her knee so hard on a rock she knew there would be a bruise. Each time her body had healed her after she had urged her magic. She could feel the steady pulse of her magic growing inside her bit by bit.

And every time it did, her confidence in herself and her magic grew.

She cocked her head to the side and closed her eyes to concentrate. There, with the barest of sounds she heard the whisper of trees on the wind. She couldn’t discern what they said because she was too far away, but she heard them. That in itself was enough to bring a smile to her lips.

Sonya must have walked another half hour when the ground suddenly dropped at a steep angle off to her side. She followed it down, surprised to find there were steps.

“The burial mound,” she whispered as she stopped in front of a stone door.

She leaned close to see if something might be etched into the stone, but she didn’t glimpse anything. Time could have eroded the markings, however. She tried to push against the door to open it, but the heavy stone didn’t budge.

Sonya sank onto the steps and waited for Broc. She bounced her leg and drummed her fingers on her knee. She’d never been good at waiting. Patience wasn’t a virtue that came naturally to her, and she hadn’t tried to cultivate it.

She didn’t know how long she sat before she heard the sound of Broc’s wings above her. An instant later he was standing before her.

“I’m not hurt,” she said as she stood.

He walked down the steps with barely a glance at the door of the tomb. His gaze raked her up and down. “Nay, you are no’.”

“I found the tomb.”

“A good thing too.” Broc’s Warrior eyes looked over her head. Gone were his dark, sultry eyes. In their place were ones of the darkest blue covering every inch of his eye, even the whites. Warrior eyes. “Deirdre isna far.”

“I tried to open the door.”

Broc nodded and turned to it. He looked around the door and shook his head. “This is a burial mound, but I doona believe it’s the one we’re looking for.”

“Are you sure?” Sonya wasn’t ready to give up. With Deirdre arriving soon, their time was running out.

“I’m certain. Deirdre told me about the markings.”

Sonya took a deep breath and walked up the steps. “Then we need to keep looking.”

Broc couldn’t stop the smile as he followed Sonya. Her disappointment was great, but she wasn’t giving up. It was her tenacity which would work to their benefit.

He knew she was tired, but she was ready to continue. For as long as it took. He followed her as they searched. She had set up a system that seemed to work.

Thrice more they found burial mounds—mounds he hadn’t seen from the sky, they were so well hidden—but each time they turned out not to be the one they hunted.

The sun was setting, creating more shadows in the mist and making it even more difficult to see. Broc was half a step behind Sonya when he heard her gasp. He grabbed hold of her arm as he saw her pitch forward, his heart in his throat.

He pulled her up beside him and just held her. He fought against the instinct to take her far away from him, but then he remembered her argument. If he left now, Deirdre might find the tomb before he returned. He had no choice. For the moment. But he would keep her safe.

With his speed and enhanced senses, he was better equipped to keep Sonya safe than any before her, save Anice. He’d learned his lesson there, however. He would make sure it was a different outcome with Sonya.

Broc forced his hands to drop from Sonya. He knelt and peered through the mist inside the hole. “It’s another tomb.”

“Where are the stairs?” Sonya asked.

“I doona see any.” He jumped into the indentation and reached up to swing her down beside him.

Sonya groaned. “I can barely see anything.”

Fortunately for Broc, he could see as well in the dark as he could in the light. The stairs down to the entrance of the tomb had been taken over by the earth. “This is a verra old burial mound.”

“Broc.”

He heard a thread of excitement and apprehension in her voice. “What is it?”

“Feel,” she said.

He didn’t need to. He could see what her fingers traced. “Celtic markings.”

“This is it, isn’t it? We’ve found the tomb.”

Her face was turned toward him, a huge smile on her lips. Her eyes danced with anticipation as her fingers moved from one marking to the next.

“I want to have a look inside first,” he said.

“We have no idea what the artifact is. How can you look inside and know if this is the correct tomb or not?”

Broc shrugged. When he realized she couldn’t see, he said, “I doona know. This is an old burial mound, but…”

“But what?”

“I expected more.”

“You mean you expected it to be more difficult to get inside?”

“Aye.”

She sighed. “But you haven’t tried the door yet.”

Broc eyed the square stones that formed the entry before disappearing into the earth on either side and on top. The door itself was made of a solid piece of boulder with a huge spiral carved at its center and smaller ones around it.

He gripped the rock and pulled. It groaned and creaked as it began to gradually slide open. Broc halted Sonya when she began to step around him to enter first.

“Let me,” he said and ducked into the mound.

The chamber was made up of the same square stones to construct a perfect circle. The ground continued its descent another foot, and above him the roof rose and narrowed to resemble a beehive.

“Broc,” Sonya whispered.

He looked around at the broken remains of pottery and the scattered bones. “Come see.”

She stepped through and covered her mouth with her hand as she coughed.

“You’ll get used to the smell. It has been closed up for a long time,” he said.

“Someone moved the body.”

He nodded and walked around the small chamber. “Most likely someone came to see if there was anything of value.”

“Which there isn’t.”

“Or if there was, it was taken.”

She knelt beside the skull. “This was our fifth burial mound. There has to be more.”

“I’m sure there are. We’ll find the one we’re looking for, Sonya.”

“I have no doubt,” she said as she stood and walked from the tomb.

Broc gave the tomb one more look before he followed her.

TWENTY-THREE

Deirdre hadn’t realized how difficult it would be for her to leave Cairn Toul. It had been centuries since the last time she had ventured from her mountain.

The day the MacLeods were destroyed, to be exact.

How she missed the cool, hard feel of the stones, how they spoke to her, calmed her. They gave her magic even more strength.

Now, with every step she traveled farther and farther from her home.

She lifted her chin and lengthened her stride. Her Warriors and wyrran were meant to carry out her orders and ensure her victory. The MacLeods and their allies had put an end to that.

Fury burned deep and true within her, fury at the MacLeods for daring to attack her and ruining all she had built. Soon, they would feel her wrath. They would know the full strength of her magic.

She would see each of the Warriors who had allied with the MacLeods punished. After much suffering they would be hers. Never again would a Warrior dare to think of opposing her by the time she was finished with them.

It hadn’t been an idle threat she had given Broc. She would torture and kill the Warriors, only to bring them back. No one, least of all a Warrior with a primeval god inside him, could withstand such evil.

The army she would build would be better and stronger, and more importantly,
hers
.

Her infatuation with Quinn had led to this. She knew that now. She had wanted the power of the MacLeods, to have all three brothers fighting for her instead of against her. She had thought she could convince Quinn to fulfill the prophecy and give her a child.

Then it would only be a matter of time before the other two brothers became hers. Instead, everything had fallen apart.

All because of Marcail.

Deirdre had never hated a Druid more. Marcail had ruined everything. Not even throwing the interfering bitch into the black flames had stopped whatever hold Marcail had on Quinn. It seemed only to fuel Quinn’s need to kill her.

And kill her they had. Only, Deirdre had put spells in place that ensured it took more than just physical harm to end her existence. She hadn’t given her soul to
diabhul
for nothing.

Deirdre paused and lifted her head as she heard the sound of water. She turned and started for the stream. Around her, twenty wyrran waited for her orders. They followed her blindly, just as her new Warriors would do.

If you can control the gods. You know you cannot let them have too much control
.

She knew just how dangerous it was to allow the gods inside the Warriors full control. The stories of how the first Warriors had killed anything and everything once the Romans were driven from Britain’s shores were not ones she had forgotten.

The spell she used to unbind the gods was one which made certain the gods were able to demonstrate their power, but didn’t overtake the men in doing so.

She hadn’t known this at first, but as she searched for the MacLeod Warriors, she had learned much about the original spell as well as the alternate one she had.

Some of the Warriors did give in to their gods. Quinn had been so close. He would have been difficult to restrain, like any who allowed their god control, but she could have done it.

Deirdre stopped next to the stream and knelt to put her hands in the icy water. She splashed some of the liquid on her face before cupping her hands for a drink.

When finished, she raised her head and looked toward Glencoe. She should reach it within a day or two. She knew Broc was already there.