Darkest Highlander (7 page)

Until the last Druid was brought into the chamber.

“Please,” the
mie
begged.

Deirdre stared at the older woman. Deep grooves of age and the hardship of life lined the woman’s sagging skin. Her hair was gray and wiry as it stuck out at odd angles from her braid, which had come loose.

“Please what?” Deirdre demanded. “Do you think I will spare you as I did your friends?”

The woman glanced at the dead bodies and pushed against the wyrran’s hold. She didn’t appear to notice when the wyrran’s claws dug into her skin and blood dripped from the wounds.

“Well?” Deirdre prompted. The killing of Druids always put her in a better mood. It was the only reason she toyed with the woman now.

“I was in MacLeod Castle for days. I can give you information.”

Now Deirdre was intrigued. “In exchange for what?”

“Life,” the woman answered without hesitation. “I don’t want to die.”

“How many more years do you think you have?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

Deirdre crossed her arms over her chest and realized all the Druids she’d killed would’ve had information about the occupants of MacLeod Castle. She should have gotten it before she killed them, but when her fury took hold, she never thought clearly.

Which is why she made sure to keep a tight rein on her anger.

“Speak,” Deirdre commanded. “Tell me what you know.”

“And you will spare me?”

“Depends on what details you impart.”

The woman licked her lips. “There are twelve Warriors at the castle.”

“That information I’m already privy to.”

“There are six Druids at the castle, including three of our own who wouldn’t leave.”

“They were wiser than you. Who are the three?”

“Fiona, who is mother to wee Braden, and Reaghan.”

Deirdre smiled. “Ah, Reaghan. The artifact you all protected so diligently?”

The woman slowly nodded. “Aye.”

“I’ve been told she was dealt a mortal blow during the battle.”

“Nay,” the
mie
said with wide eyes.

Deirdre shrugged. “I will discover soon enough if Reaghan is dead. I learned a great deal about her while I occupied Mairi’s mind.”

The Druid’s body began to tremble. “You were the cause of our elder spouting such hateful things.”

“I was very convincing, was I not? Mairi’s mind had weakened in her old age. If she’d had more magic, she might have been able to put up a little fight. It was almost too easy the way I was able to take over her mind and body.”

The
mie
simply stared at Deirdre, as if only now realizing how dangerous Deirdre really was.

“Anyone else?” Deirdre asked.

“A man.”

“Who?”

The woman’s chin shook as tears gathered and spilled down her face. “His name was Monro. Malcolm Monro.”

Deirdre closed her eyes. Malcolm was supposed to have been killed by her Warriors. Now she knew what happened to the Warriors she sent after the mortal. What she didn’t know was who had saved Malcolm from the death she had ordered. But she would find out.

“Put her on the table,” Deirdre ordered her wyrran.

The woman screamed and tried to jerk away, but she was no match for the strength of the wyrran. Besides, Deirdre had never told her she would be spared.

Once the woman was secured, Deirdre looked to the wyrran nearest her. “I want wyrran sent out separately to scout for Druids and any Warriors who might still be alive. They are to stay hidden, unseen by all. When they find a Druid or Warrior, they are to report back to me immediately. Especially if they find Broc.”

The wyrran bowed his yellow head before he turned and raced out of the chamber. Deirdre turned to the woman, who was now a sobbing wretch.

“Now. Shall we begin?”

SEVEN

Sonya smoothed her hand down the pale blue gown she had donned and reached for the comb. Her hand still ached, so braiding her thick hair was going to be impossible.

She had awoken to find herself alone. Yet, she hadn’t feared Broc had left. She knew he hadn’t. He took his duties too seriously, and returning her to the castle was a priority.

A soft knock sounded, startling her. The door opened and Broc stepped inside. He closed the door behind him and leaned against it.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked.

Sonya turned her face away lest he see her embarrassment. She had dreamed of nothing but him all night. His lips on hers, his body pressed against her, his arms holding her tight. She had woken needy and aching. If he had been in the chamber, she wasn’t sure what she would have done. All she had known was that she needed him with a hunger that went to her very soul.

“I did,” she answered. “And you?”

“You know we doona need to sleep every night.”

That got her attention. She ran her fingers along the small table as she walked around it. “So you stayed awake all night?”

“I kept watch.”

“That’s two nights you’ve not slept. You must sleep sometime.”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “I’ll rest when I need it.”

Sonya blew out an exasperated breath and leaned against the wall. “So, what now? Is this where you try and talk me into returning with you?”

“This is where I try to convince you that MacLeod Castle is where you need to be.”

“And if you cannot?”

His lips tilted in a lopsided grin. “Then I will continue to try and persuade you to my way of thinking.”

She wanted to smile at him, to carry on as if everything was as it had been before the battle. But she couldn’t. “What use am I to anyone if I don’t have magic?”

“But you do,” he argued. “I feel it.”

There was such sincerity in his dark, compelling eyes that she believed him. How could she not? Broc would never lie about her magic. “All right. Then what use am I to anyone if I cannot
use
my magic?”

“You will use your magic again. Maybe once at MacLeod Castle with the other Druids you can discover what has happened.”

Sonya looked at her injured hand. So much had changed in so little time. How could someone be so content in life and in the space of a heartbeat have everything crash around her?

“Did you no’ tell Fallon the trees warned you to stay at MacLeod Castle?” Broc asked.

She nodded, unable to deny it. She didn’t care why Fallon had told Broc. Obviously the eldest MacLeod brother had thought Broc needed to know.

Sonya swallowed and lifted her gaze to Broc. “I don’t know why they wanted me at the castle, only that they said that’s where I need to be.”

“And you’ve always trusted them.”

It was a statement, not a question. “Aye.”

“Why question them now?”

Sonya smiled ruefully. “I’m not. I’m questioning myself.”

He exhaled sharply and pushed off the door to slowly pace the confines of the chamber. “It’s because of what I said to you, is it no’? It’s about you finding me with Anice and learning that I knew her.”

“It’s partly why I ran, aye.” There was no use hiding that information now. Broc already knew anyway. “Coupled with the fact I couldn’t heal Reaghan when she was dying. If it wasn’t for the spell she’d put on herself, she would be dead now.”

“But she is alive.” He stopped before her, daring her to deny his words.

Sonya had to tilt her head back to continue looking in his fathomless eyes. “A few days ago I knew who I was. I knew
what
I was. I knew the power of the magic inside me and all I could do. And then…”

She trailed off, unable to finish as she recalled the raw, heartbreaking agony she had felt when she could no longer call up her magic.

“And then Anice died,” Broc concluded. “I know I hurt you by no’ telling you the truth. I know I should have, but Anice wouldna know if she hadna stumbled upon me all those years ago.”

Sonya had never been envious of her sister until she had seen her in Broc’s arms. Not even knowing her sister was dead could halt the jealousy. It had been the complete suffering in Broc’s voice and in his face which tore apart Sonya’s heart.

“If it had been me instead of my sister who found you, would you have spoken to me as you did Anice?”

He stared at her, the muscle in his jaw jumping. “Nay.”

“I see.”

“You doona, Sonya.”

“Then explain it.”

His brow creased as his gaze dropped to the floor. “I … cannot.”

Sonya hadn’t thought she could hurt more than she already did, but those two simple words brought it all back and more. What had been so special about Anice that she lacked?

She would never know now.

Without a word, Sonya turned and walked out of the room. She needed to get out of the small chamber and away from Broc, away from the torment of wanting someone she couldn’t have. Being that close to him was too much. It wasn’t fair that she should endure such torture.

“Sonya,” Broc said through clenched teeth as he grabbed her elbow.

She was brought to a stop with a firm jerk. Sonya pulled her arm from Broc’s grasp. “You cannot hover around me all the time.”

“I can and I will.” His tone told her he didn’t care what she wanted, he would do as he pleased.

“I’m going for a walk through the village. No harm can come to me from that.”

Sonya didn’t wait for him to answer. She spun around and walked down the corridor and descended the stairs. When she reached the bottom, she paused to look in the empty dining room.

“I’m glad to see ye up and about, milady,” said a female voice.

Sonya shifted to see who spoke. The woman stood drying goblets behind the bar, a smile on her plump, round face. “Thank you,” Sonya said.

“How is the wound on yer hand?”

“It’s healing, Jean,” Broc said as he came to stand behind Sonya.

Jean’s smile grew. “Yer husband was verra worried about ye, lass. He didn’t leave yer side.”

Sonya didn’t hear anything after “husband.” Had Broc told everyone they were married? More frightening than that, why did a thrill race through Sonya at the prospect of being married to him?

He was a Warrior. Immortal. Dangerous.

Entirely too tempting.

“Jean cleaned your wound,” Broc said, breaking the silence.

Sonya smiled at the woman. “Thank you. I’m feeling much better.”

“Ah, but still a wee bit weary, I think. Ye shouldn’t exert yerself, lass. Rest and allow yer body to mend.”

“I will,” Sonya said, and walked from the inn.

She didn’t pause as she stepped outside. Sonya strolled leisurely through the village. Her body was still weak, but she needed the outdoors.

Four young lads raced down the street and parted to go around her. Sonya laughed at their antics as one gave her hair a soft tug. As she turned to watch them, she spotted Broc just steps behind her, a frown making him look angry and threatening.

Intent on ignoring him, Sonya immersed herself in the village. The sound of children laughing as they played helped to calm the resentment inside her. Women smiled at her, men nodded in greeting. It was as if she belonged there, as if she weren’t a stranger.

Sonya stopped beside a cart full of vegetables. She picked up an apple and absently held it while she surveyed the village. She felt Broc move up beside her.

“This is only the second time I’ve been to a village,” she said. “This is much larger than where I was raised. Things with the Dru … with my people were different.”

“Magic is the difference,” Broc whispered in her ear. “These people know nothing of Druids or Warriors. This is their life, and it’s a hard one, Sonya.”

She nodded and replaced the apple. “I know. It’s just so different. Almost as if I walked into another world.”

“You have in a way. You’ve been hidden all your life.”

Sonya looked over her shoulder and into Broc’s dark brown eyes, eyes that were mysterious, sultry, and altogether too fascinating. “How would you know how the others live? You’ve been in Deirdre’s mountain for how long?”

He smiled tightly. “Lest you forget, I was able to get away from that cursed mound of rock frequently.”

“Nay, you were referring to before Deirdre took you. Weren’t you?”

His gaze slid away. “Aye.”

For all the time Sonya had spent in the company of Warriors at MacLeod Castle, none of them spoke about their lives before their gods were unbound. At least, they didn’t to her.

She found herself immensely curious about Broc’s life before he became a Warrior. “Will you tell me?”

“What is the point in it?” he asked.

Sonya felt more than heard the hurt. “My days were spent in the forest or swimming in the loch when I wasn’t learning mag … who I am,” she amended.

“That was—is—a good life.”

“But nothing like yours was.”

Broc sighed and guided her away from the prying ears of the vendor to continue their stroll. “Nay, Sonya. It was nothing like mine. Until Deirdre, I never knew there was another, secret world living alongside mine.”

“Was your world like this village?” she asked. She couldn’t help herself. She had to know. “Did you live in a village much like this one?”

One side of his mouth tilted into a smile as he clasped his hands behind his back. “Nay, but one was nearby. I was there often enough causing trouble. My favorite thing to do was play jests on the merchants.”

“Did you ever get caught?”

He chuckled, his eyes crinkling with laughter. “Oh, aye. Most every time, though I did learn to run away quicker.”

Sonya stumbled when she caught sight of Broc’s smile. His hand reached out to steady her, but she knew nothing would ever steady her heart again. Not after seeing something that transformed his face from handsome to heartstoppingly dazzling.

Broc’s smile had been full of good memories, full of mirth and happiness, and it had changed his already striking face into one that took her breath away. He was an arresting male with his height, his long, fair hair, and his dark eyes, and his brooding only made him more so.

But the smile … the smile showed Sonya another side of Broc, a side she longed to learn more about.