Donna Grant - Untamed Highlander

“You cannot be serious?” Cara said, her voice rising in outrage.

Hayden glanced at Cara and shrugged. “Why not? Isla has as much as admitted about the evil inside her. Do you want it infecting this castle? Marcail’s child? Think about that.”

While he thought about why he continued to want to protect Isla. Damn, this was not good. Not good at all.

“I’ll make sure she doesna leave the castle,” Hayden said.

“As will I,” Logan announced and stood.

Together they took the stairs to the battlements. Hayden intended to give Isla the time alone she needed. Besides, he didn’t have anything to say to her.

Logan didn’t utter a word as they walked onto the battlements. They quickly found Isla wandering the bailey as if she were lost in thought.

“Do you believe her?” Logan asked. “About the objects or relics or whatever? Do you think they are really out there?”

Hayden’s gaze followed Isla. Her black hair was drying as it flowed freely about her shoulders and down to her waist thick, glossy, and straight. Her head was bent forward and her hair shielded her face. He wondered what she was thinking.

The admission that they knew of her torture had surprised her. She hadn’t liked that they knew. As to if he believed her, he wasn’t sure.

“She could be telling the truth,” he answered. “I can see Deirdre wanting to keep under lock and key anything that could help — or hurt — her magic. If she had the objects, no one else could use them against her.”

Logan nodded his head, his brown hair falling into his eyes. “I believe her. She was forced to turn drough against her will. Why wouldn’t she want Deirdre dead?”

“Unless she’s as good a liar as Deirdre is.”

Logan snorted. “You’re the one who said you looked into her eyes and knew she spoke the truth about Deirdre being alive. Look into her eyes again.”

That was the problem. Hayden had done just that. He didn’t want to find Isla attractive. He didn’t want to inhale her scent of snow and wild pansies again. But damn him if he didn’t yearn to do both.

What was next? Would he want to kiss her? Bed her? Surely not? Not even her beauty could get him past his aversion to droughs. He knew in the depths of his heart his yearning couldn’t continue.

“She handles herself well,” Logan said. “Despite the questions and stares, she didn’t act frightened.”

Hayden shrugged. “I’m sure she learned that trait while with Deirdre. Deirdre feeds on weakness, Logan. You know that.”

“Exactly. Isla is a strong woman to have endured everything she has. What kind of torture did Deirdre put her through?”

“You doona want to know.” And Hayden wasn’t going to tell him. If Isla wanted Logan to know, then she could tell him what she suffered.

Until then, Hayden would keep what he knew to himself.

Isla walked the perimeter of the bailey and seethed. How could she have allowed herself to become so agitated in front of so many? She had worked decades to be able to hide every emotion only to have everything shredded with just a few words.

Something had changed, and she didn’t like it. She had endured as long as she had by surviving on her wits and ability to hide her feelings. All of that was ruined if she couldn’t control herself around these Warriors.

Isla paused and leaned against the stone wall. It was then she noticed the sky above her. Her breath rushed past her lips as she realized she could stay out in the sunshine for as long as she wanted.

Deirdre had liked to keep Isla deep in the mountain away from the sun and fresh air that mies thrived on. Isla had fought her need to escape Cairn Toul many times. As a drough , she shouldn’t crave light.

“It takes some getting used to.”

Isla’s heart jumped at the sound of Broc’s voice. She hadn’t heard him approach. He must have flown. Those wings of his did come in handy. “What takes getting used to?”

“The freedom. The absence of evil. Deirdre’s hold.”

“Ah, but I have none of those things. I’m still drough . That evil will always be in me.”

Broc clasped his hands behind his back and shrugged. “I think there’s an argument that you aren’t drough .”

Isla didn’t want to have this conversation. Not now. Not ever. “May I leave the castle?”

“Why?”

“I would like to see the sea.”

Broc started to answer her when the castle door opened and Cara leaned her head out. “It’s time for supper. Hurry before Galen eats it all,” she said with a grin.

Broc rolled his eyes and turned on his heel. “Are you coming?” he asked over his shoulder.

Surprisingly, Isla found that she was hungry again. She pushed off the wall and started to follow Broc when movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. On the battlements were two Warriors watching her. Hayden and another man with brown hair. So, the MacLeods must not trust her, not that she could blame them.

Which meant she would probably not be allowed to leave the castle. She could if she wanted to use her magic, and she would if they continued to hold her against her will. They had until nightfall. After that, she was gone.

Isla didn’t know what she expected when she returned to the hall, but it wasn’t to see the great and feared Warriors laughing and talking while food was being passed around.

It was so different than Deirdre’s Warriors who gorged themselves, acting more like animals instead of the men they were.

“You look surprised,” Quinn said as he walked from the kitchens, a pitcher in his hands.

“I am,” Isla said.

Quinn studied the group a moment. “It’s not the same hall I grew up in, but these men and women are my family now, my clan.”

“After everything that has happened to you, how can you be so pleased with your life?”

“A good woman’s love can change even the angriest of men,” he said with an easy grin. “And I had my brothers. I grew tired of holding all that rage. It was exhausting. Love, on the other hand, can give you strength when you think you have no more, and hope when there is none.”

Isla turned her head to find his pale green eyes watching her. “And your god? Your immortality?”

He blew out a breath. “I battle with the knowledge that if my god cannot be bound once more that I will one day bury my wife. Every time I think of it my stomach sours, but one day with Marcail is worth more than never having her.”

“I never expected such words from you, Quinn. Your brothers maybe, but not you.”

Quinn chuckled. “I’m not the same man I was. I let go of the past. You might want to try that.”

“Enough talking,” Larena said with a wink as she came toward them.

Isla watched with awe and a little jealousy at the way Larena walked with such confidence. Not even being in a tunic and breeches seemed to daunt Larena, or anyone at the castle for that matter.

The female Warrior stopped and smiled down at Isla. Larena was stunning with her golden hair and smoky blue eyes. Combined with her long legs encased in the tight fitting breeches, it was no wonder Fallon couldn’t take his eyes off his elegant wife.

“I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. I’m Larena MacLeod.”

Isla nodded. “Fallon’s wife. Aye, I heard Deirdre speak your name many times over the past few months. I applaud you for eluding her. She was eager to have you on her side.”

Larena rolled her eyes. “Deirdre always wants what isn’t hers. And though I would love to take the credit for evading her, I had help. Now come and sit. There’s plenty of room. Just elbow the men out of the way.”