Donna Grant: Untamed Highlander

Before Duncan could say more, his twin, Ian, put a hand on his shoulder. “It wasn’t Isla who captured us. That was Deirdre, and she’s dead.”

“I won’t allow her to be a prisoner,” Larena said before Duncan could argue with his twin.

Fallon shook his head. “Nay, we willna imprison Isla. We’ll heal her and send her on her way.”

Hayden tried to get the vision of Isla’s hauntingly beautiful ice-blue eyes out of his mind, but he couldn’t. He wanted to see her again, to make sure he hadn’t been mistaken of their color. And her vulnerability.

“What happened at Cairn Toul?” Lucan asked Hayden and Fallon.

Hayden lowered himself on a bench with his back against the table and listened with half an ear as Fallon told the others what occurred during their search of the mountain.

“And then I brought them here,” Fallon finished. “The rest you know.”

Quinn blew out a long breath. “I had hoped you wouldn’t find anyone, that all had managed to get away, but I fully expected them to be alive if anyone was still at the mountain.”

“It was too cold,” Hayden said, remembering how the strands of Isla’s ebony hair had been frozen.

While the MacLeod brothers gathered close together and spoke in whispers, Hayden lifted a brow when Galen and Logan sat on either side of him.

Hayden wasn’t the type of man who wanted — or needed — company. If anything, he desired to be alone with his thoughts, particularly those that warred within him now. It was how he had lived for so long, that even being at MacLeod Castle with the other Warriors sometimes got to him and had him leaving the castle.

He never went far, but just being by himself always helped.

“I willna apologize for giving you a glimpse into Isla’s mind,” Galen said after a lull of silence.

Hayden shrugged. “I didn’t ask for an apology.”

Logan cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes. “You didn’t see your face when you discovered she was drough . For a moment, I thought you would kill her where she lay.”

Did they think him such a monster? Hayden drew in a tired breath. He supposed he was such a beast. He couldn’t deny the urge to kill her had passed through his mind or that he still considered it. She had asked it of him, after all.

How could he ignore the fact she was drough when it was a drough who had slaughtered his family — every one of them?

“I don’t murder people,” Hayden said. “I give the droughs a fair chance at battle before I kill them.”

Logan leaned forward until his elbows rested on his knees. “I wouldna blame you for wanting to kill her. As you said, she’s a drough . And I know why you hate them so.”

He was one of the few who Hayden had confided in, one of the few who knew why Hayden’s hatred went so deep. Deirdre had taken something from every Warrior, so Hayden didn’t expect special treatment for the grudge he carried.

Galen rose to his feet. “I don’t know your reasons, Hayden, but I can guess. If you ever want to have a future you must let go of the past.”

Once Galen had walked away, Logan turned his head to Hayden. “Would you be sitting here if Isla wasn’t a drough ?”

Hayden raised a brow. “What?”

“It’s a simple enough question. I saw how protective of her you were. I’ll ask again. Would you be sitting here if Isla wasn’t a drough ?”

Hayden shook his head, unable to deny the answer.

“I didna think so.” Logan sat up and rubbed his hands on his thighs. “Arran said she was pretty.”

Arran would know, too. He, Ian, and Duncan had been locked in Deirdre’s mountain together with Quinn. The four Warriors had formed a tight bond during those awful weeks in the Pit.

Hayden had just thought his torment was over with Deirdre’s death, but the presence of a drough , even one who might have been forced to serve Deirdre, put his sanity to the test.

Hayden stayed in the corner of his chamber. He’d told himself to stay away, that he didn’t care about Isla, but his curiosity about her had swayed him. And Fallon had requested his presence. Why, Hayden wasn’t so sure.

He watched Isla thrash on the bed, her black hair tangled about her head and face. She burned with fever. Her body was flushed and sweat glistened on her skin, but he had a suspicion that’s not what made her mumble incoherently in her sleep, fear and dread visible on her oval face.

“I don’t understand,” Cara said from beside Lucan, their hands joined together. “Why didn’t our magic heal her? I’ve seen Sonya heal more serious wounds.”

Sonya shifted her thick braid over her shoulder, her gaze on Isla. “She fought our magic. It’s like she doesn’t want to be healed.”

“She did ask Hayden to kill her,” Fallon said.

Marcail sat beside the bed and wiped Isla’s brow once more with a damp cloth. “Regardless, she is in much pain. I can sense the terror within her.”

Hayden saw Quinn start toward his wife, but he wasn’t quick enough. Marcail put her hand on Isla and right before their eyes they saw the stiffness leave Isla’s body in the space of a heartbeat.

“Marcail, damn you,” Quinn said as he knelt and caught his wife against him as she crumpled to the side.

Before Marcail could answer, she leaned over and emptied her stomach in a bucket. When she finished and Quinn turned her in his arms, Marcail’s face was ashen and sweat beaded her brow.

Isla had begged for death and fought the healing, but still Marcail had used her magic and pulled the emotions within Isla into her own body. It was Marcail’s gift as a Druid. She could take others’ emotions into herself, though the greater the emotion the more it made Marcail ill.

Quinn held Marcail gently as the effects rushed through her body. “Why?” Quinn asked his wife.

“I could help her. Why wouldn’t I? She didn’t hurt us in Deirdre’s mountain, Quinn. Not once did she ever harm us.”

“How bad is it?”

Marcail visibly swallowed and closed her eyes. “Awful. I’ve never felt anything so ghastly in my life. Not even when I took Duncan’s pain from him. I don’t know how Isla is still alive.”

Hayden saw the slight movement on the bed and elbowed Fallon. “She moves.”

Isla knew it was a dream, but she didn’t care. She was with her sister, Lavena, once more. And in Isla’s arms was the most beautiful little girl alive — Grania, her niece.

The thick woods of her home surrounded Isla in their comfort and beauty. As a Druid she loved nature, and the closer she was to it the stronger her magic became.

The sky was clear and the birds loud as they flew from branch to branch while their songs filled the air. The smell of pine and oak, of fern and heather mixed together to bring the familiar smell of the forest to her. Isla could stay in the area forever.

But as always the beautiful day turned black and grim with the arrival of the mercenaries. Grania’s laughter turned into shrieks of panic as she was jerked from Isla’s arms.

Isla fought to get to her niece but the men were too strong, laughing through her struggles. Lavena yelled at Isla to get Grania, but Isla could do nothing against the strong arms that held her.

She managed to get free and tried to reach Grania, but a meaty fist slammed into her face, stopping Isla in her tracks. Then the men separated the three of them. Dread filled Isla. Not for herself but for her sister and Grania.

The dream changed again, turning darker and even more sinister as she was delivered into hell — Deirdre’s lair in the mountain. Thick black smoke surrounded her, the evil palpable as it began to drown her in the vapor.