Donna Grant: Shadow Highlander

“You know what is happening to me, don’t you?” Reaghan asked.

Mairi released a long breath. “Reaghan, sometimes it is best if you don’t know the answers to all your questions.”

It was too much. Reaghan stood and moved around Mairi, needing to be alone. Her body was weak, but she couldn’t stay with the elder a moment longer. She needed some time alone. “I’m going to go for a walk.”

“You do understand we need you, don’t you, Reaghan? Our numbers decline more each year. I fear that one day I will be the only one left.”

Reaghan’s heart clenched in her chest as Mairi’s words made her pause near the door. She understood the panic that ran through the village as their numbers declined. “What will be, will be,” she said without turning around.

She didn’t slow once she left her cottage and walked out of what the remaining twenty-three Druids called a village. Reaghan didn’t stop, not even when the only child, Braden, called to her to pick berries with him.

Reaghan felt as if she were slowly going daft. There was much more going on than just the aches of her head. Her dreams had also been filled with images she couldn’t explain but felt she had seen with her own eyes. People. Places. Events. All of which she knew she hadn’t experienced, yet she knew she had. Somehow.

It was illogical. She had never left Loch Awe, so how could she have seen a magnificent castle on the cliffs or the mountain peak where she somehow knew evil was bred?

Reaghan paused beside a pine, her hand upon the rough bark, and took a deep breath. The sunlight filtered through the overhanging branches and leaves, making the vivid, interesting designs on the ground that Reaghan had always found so fascinating. But not today. The smell of pine, of decaying leaves, and a hint of some sweet flower did not calm her as it usually did.

The anxiety inside her only grew with each day, filling her so that she could barely close her eyes at night. There was a part of her that screamed for her to leave posthaste before … before what, she didn’t know. She only sensed that something was going to happen.

She knew she was safe with the Druids. They might not answer her questions, but they had shown her only love and friendship since she had awoken from the fever.

There was safety in the village. Reaghan knew of Deirdre, knew how the drough hunted other Druids. Yet Reaghan wanted to know where she had come from. There might be family still on Foinaven Mountain.

Reaghan shook her head and swallowed past the painful lump in her throat at the thought of leaving Loch Awe and the Druids.

Her thoughts ground to a halt when she heard the keening call of the falcon. It was as if the bird of prey called to her, for her.

There was magic with the bird, of that Reaghan was certain. She didn’t know how or why, only that it was so.

Reaghan watched the magnificent bird fly over the loch before swooping into the trees. Falcons were majestic birds, and the peregrine was the fastest of them all. It moved with artistry and grace, precision and deadly intent.

The bird landed on a thick branch high in a tree not far from Reaghan, folding its wings against its sleek body. She could have sworn the bird’s sharp eyes turned to her as its blackish-colored head cocked to the side.

Reaghan was disappointed. She would have preferred to watch the bird fly. She could have pretended she was the falcon, and the vast expanse of sky her only prison.

With a sigh she lowered her gaze and stilled. Two men stood below her at the shore of the loch. Her fingers dug into the bark of the pine tree as her heart raced frantically and her stomach dropped to her feet like a stone.

Their gazes moved slowly, as if they searched for something — or someone. She stood inside the magical confines of the village. As long as she stayed within the border, the men would never see her. Why that filled her with regret, she wasn’t sure.

“We’ve been searching for four hours,” one mumbled.

The blond nodded. “I well know. I’m no’ about to give up, though.”

A glance at their two different kilts told her they weren’t from the same clan. Travelers maybe? What were such handsome men doing at Loch Awe unless they were on their way to MacIntosh Castle? And what could they be looking for?

Many times she had watched such travelers and yearned to speak to them. What could it hurt? She was leaving on the morrow, once she gathered the rest of her items. What better way to test what awaited her than speaking to strangers near the safety of the village?

And if they are from Deirdre?

She would step back into the magic barrier and watch as the men, confused, looked for her.

Her decision made, Reaghan took the step that put her outside the magic. The men, as one, turned their heads to her. They stared at her, silent and intent.

She didn’t worry about the men seeing the village. Yet. For the moment, they seemed satisfied to observe her. The men looked affable enough, but Reaghan knew better than to trust on appearances alone. Everyone hid something.

“Hello,” the one closest to her said, and she felt her breath catch in her chest.

His voice was rich and smooth, friendly. The sound of it made her blood quicken, causing her to want to hear more. He had thick, dark blond hair that was tied in a loose queue at the back of his neck.

Even from a distance of twenty or so paces, she could see the vibrant cobalt blue of his eyes. The way he watched her, studied her, made gooseflesh rise on her skin as awareness skidded around her, through her.

He stood with his arms to his sides, seemingly at ease despite the corded muscles she glimpsed in his arms and chest. There was a predatory elegance about him that told Reaghan he could — and would — defend what was his. To the death.

Unable to help herself, Reaghan let her gaze run over his chiseled face. His forehead was high, his brows thin and golden. His cheeks were hollowed, his chin hard, and his jaw squared. That jaw was shadowed with a beard, making him appear more interesting, more dangerous.

More enticing.

Reaghan tried to swallow, tried to think of anything but the very male, very appealing man before her. She knew she was being rude in not answering him as she looked her fill, but how could she not? He was everything a Highland warrior should be.

His lips tilted ever so slightly in a smile, as if he knew what went through her mind. Reaghan wanted to move closer to him, to touch his skin and run her hands through his hair.

She yearned to feel the strength of him, to have his muscles move beneath her hand. She longed to run her fingertip over his wide lips, to look deeper into his stunning blue eyes.

Her blood pounded in her ears like a drum the more she thought about touching him, of learning him.

It was as if for the first time in her life she was truly alive. Sounds she hadn’t paid attention to before filled her ears, scents she hadn’t noticed before swirled around her, and the colors of the forest and loch seemed more brilliant, more effervescent than usual.

All because of one man.

She inhaled a shaky breath and pulled her scattered longings back inside her. She would look at her reaction to the man later in the privacy of her own cottage when his cobalt gaze wasn’t on her, reading her every emotion.

“Hello,” she finally replied. She knew the elders wouldn’t approve, but it had been so long since she had seen anyone other than those in her village, especially men of marriageable age.

“Do you live around here?” the other man asked.

Reaghan regretfully shifted her gaze from the first man to the second. His wavy brown hair hung freely about his shoulders. His smile was wider, more teasing, but she saw darkness lurked in his hazel eyes, a darkness he tried valiantly to hide. He was the same height as the first, with the same build, though he was leaner.