Donna Grant: Untamed Highlander

Now, Isla’s eyes were closed, her head resting back against his arm. He could still hear her soft, velvet voice beseeching him to allow her leave the castle, could still feel the heat of her gaze as she looked over his face.

Had she liked what she saw? He didn’t want to care … but he was strangely curious. He’d never had trouble enticing women into his bed before. Yet there had been no emotion on Isla’s face as she looked her fill of him.

“What did you do to her?” Hayden demanded of Sonya.

Sonya lifted a shoulder. “I put her to sleep. She was becoming irate, and she needs to heal.”

“She was giving us information. And you didn’t see the fear in her eyes. She didna want to sleep.”

“Sleep will heal her.”

“I don’t think so,” Marcail said. “If what I took from her happens when she sleeps, it’s no wonder she became so agitated when she heard the chant. She’ll be back in that same distress once again.”

Hayden lifted Isla’s small body in his arms. They had taken her dirty, damaged gown and replaced it with a plain white chemise which was much too thin. Much too revealing. Even now Hayden could make out Isla’s small, pert breasts and her dark nipples. Most of the dirt from Isla’s face, arms, and chest was gone leaving only creamy skin he had glimpsed on Cairn Toul.

Skin he once more longed to caress.

To Hayden’s surprise, he found his body reacting to the soft curves beneath the simple linen. He knew the feel of her breasts pressed against him. He knew the feel of her small hands on his chest. He knew the slender curves that tantalized and teased his body.

And saints help him, he knew the way her lips parted softly, beckoning him to taste her, as she looked at him. He didn’t want to respond to Isla, but it seemed his body was not his own where she was concerned.

Hayden glared at Sonya instead of moving toward the bed. He wanted to know why Isla thought Deirdre was alive, but it would have to wait. And he’d have to wait for another look into her startling ice-blue eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Sonya said. “I thought it would be better if she rested.”

Fallon rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “You didn’t know. How long will she sleep?”

“It differs.”

Hayden silently cursed. Isla might be a drough , but he couldn’t forget the fear in her eyes. Whatever it was Marcail took from Isla earlier was enough to frighten the drough so that she clung to him, a stranger, someone who prevented her from leaving.

It took a moment for Hayden to realize Lucan was standing beside him, a dark brow raised in question. Lucan’s sea green eyes watched him carefully.

“What is it?” Hayden inquired.

“I asked if you planned to hold her the entire time she slept or lay her down?”

Hayden blew out a breath and walked to the bed. He glanced at Marcail to find the Druid studying him as he lay Isla down. Hayden pulled the covers over Isla and turned to leave.

“Was she telling the truth?” Fallon asked.

Hayden stopped and turned to face the others. “She’s determined to either leave or have herself killed. All you have to do is look into her eyes to see she believes what she is speaking about Deirdre. Whether it’s the truth or not, I cannot say.”

Fallon nodded.

“I’m inclined to believe her,” Quinn said. “Deirdre showed me Isla’s sister and niece. She used them to keep Isla doing what she wanted.”

Broc leaned a hand against the stone wall and dropped his head back so he looked at the ceiling. “Isla kept to herself except when Deirdre would send for her. Even then, she held all emotion from her face. The fear we saw just now was real.” He lowered his head and looked at Fallon. “And that worries me.”

“We all know how powerful Deirdre had gotten,” Lucan said. “What if Isla is telling the truth? What if Deirdre isn’t dead?”

Marcail moaned and buried her head in Quinn’s neck. “God help us all.”

“Then where is Deirdre?” Fallon asked.

Though Hayden hated to have to ask it, he knew he had to. “Did you find her body in the mountain?”

Fallon shook his head. “Nothing.”

“Holy hell,” Quinn mumbled and held onto Marcail tighter.

Hayden found his gaze on Isla, her pallor matching that of the linens. She would know where Deirdre was.

And Hayden intended to ensure she told them everything.

Dunmore kicked at the log in the hearth, sending sparks flying into the air, before he reclined in his chair. A moment later the log broke in half with a loud crack.

He had retreated to the cottage he kept close to Cairn Toul so he could get to Deirdre easily when she needed him. He still couldn’t believe she was gone. She had given him plenty of coin for his work, but to know that he was doing something for someone as great as she had brought meaning to his life.

Ever since he had found her as a lad of just sixteen summers, he had known Deirdre would do great things. It had never entered his mind that she would be killed. By the MacLeods. She was the greatest drough to ever live. It should never have happened.

“I’m not dead, Dunmore.”

Dunmore sat up in his chair and looked around his cottage as he reached for his sword that lay beside him. He was alone just as he had been a moment before. But the voice had come from inside his head.

“You’re not hearing things. My body was destroyed, as well as most of my wyrran. My magic is regenerating my body even as we speak. I will have a form once more, Dunmore. Until then, there is something I need you to do.”

It never entered Dunmore’s mind that the voice in his head wasn’t Deirdre. He had seen what her magic could do, and he knew she had lived for a thousand years. She was the goddess she claimed to be.

“How can I serve?” he asked.

Deirdre chuckled. “My wyrran are cleaning my mountain. I need you to get to Cairn Toul quickly. I’ve a need for a Druid. The MacLeods will pay for ruining my empire.”

“I will see it done,” Dunmore vowed and leapt to his feet.

Hayden closed the door to his chamber behind him as he stepped out into the hallway with Fallon, Lucan, and Broc.

“You haven’t said much,” Lucan said to him. “What are your thoughts?”

Hayden crossed his arms over his chest. “Regardless of whether or not Deirdre held Isla against her will, Isla is drough . A drough is evil. Do you really want something evil in the castle?”

“I’ll make sure Isla doesn’t do anything,” Broc spoke up. “But she is injured and needs to heal. If we send her out now she’ll die.”

Fallon shook his head. “Not if we believe her. She said she cannot die, just as Deirdre cannot die. Did you hear of anything like that while under Deirdre’s service, Broc?”

“Nay,” Broc said. “There were times when Isla didn’t act herself. As a Warrior I had to interact with other Warriors, but Isla was always by herself unless Deirdre had need of her. Isla had no one in that cursed mountain.”

Hayden didn’t want to feel a connection with the drough , but hearing that she preferred to be alone made it impossible. “So what do we do?”

“I would think Quinn would fight to have Isla removed since Marcail is carrying his child, but I saw the determination on Marcail’s face,” Lucan said. “She wants Isla to stay. At least for now.”

The door opened and Cara walked from the chamber straight to Lucan’s side. “Marcail is trying to take Isla’s emotions again, but Quinn is preventing it. Whatever holds Isla in its grip while she dreams is … horrific.”

Lucan kissed her forehead and pulled her against him. “What do you feel about Isla and what she told us regarding Deirdre?”