Donna Grant: Dangerous Highlander

The woman smiled and continued toward Cara.

“Halt,” Lucan said.

The woman lifted an auburn brow. “You must be Lucan MacLeod.”

“Who are you?” Lucan demanded.

The woman smiled at Cara. “I’ve come because of Cara.”

Lucan tensed, but Cara put her hand on his arm and moved to stand beside him.

“Who are you?” she repeated Lucan’s question.

“Sonya. I was sent here to help you.”

Cara stared into the woman’s amber eyes, amazed at her beauty and the long, red hair that fell in curls down her back. “I don’t understand. Who sent you?”

Sonya grinned and lifted her hand. “The trees of course.”

“By the saints,” Galen said, awe in his voice. “She’s a Druid.”

Sonya nodded. “I am. I’ve come to teach you, Cara.” Sonya glanced at Galen. “If your new husband will allow me in the castle.”

Cara was speechless. The trees, the trees , had told Sonya to find her. It was too amazing to believe. “Thank you,” she said. “Please join us.”

When Lucan didn’t respond, Cara jabbed him in the ribs. He grunted. “Aye, Sonya, we would be happy to have another Druid.”

“You’re going to need one. Deirdre isn’t happy about losing Cara. It’s all the trees have been talking about.”

Fallon chuckled and welcomed Sonya while the other Warriors introduced themselves. Cara stared at their newest addition, almost too afraid to believe she would now learn all her abilities.

“Are you all right?”

She turned and smiled at Lucan. “Aye. I’ve married the most perfect Highlander, and a Druid, sent by the trees, came to teach me.”

Lucan chuckled. “I shouldn’t be surprised by her words, but I admit I am. Trees? Who knew they could talk?”

“Apparently, Sonya.”

“You aren’t going to start talking to trees, are you?” he asked.

“Hm,” Cara said, and wound her arms around his neck. “I might. Would that be so bad?”

“Not at all, love. I think it would be amazing.”

He claimed her lips in a searing kiss. They had found a love that stretched the boundaries of time, a love that bound their hearts and their souls.

Cara had never been happier. Lucan’s laughter as he lifted her in his arms and swung her around as the others cheered told her he had gotten just what he wanted.

Their future might be questionable, but they had their love. It was enough.

* * *

Quinn held his head in his hands and rolled to his side as his skull pounded with a pain that made his stomach churn. He cracked open his eyes to find darkness surrounded him. The coolness around him told him he was belowground. The stench of stale air and unwashed bodies filled his nose.

He remembered leaving his brothers and running off into the night. It had felt so good to give in to that desire, uncaring if anyone would see him.

He ran for hours until he had spotted a wyrran. He had chased it, intent on spilling more blood as his rage consumed him. Then he recalled falling. The ground must have caved in. He closed his eyes and tried to think. He remembered the sound of his leg breaking in the fall and the unbearable pain as it began to heal.

There had been someone above him; of that he was sure. The man had looked down at Quinn but refused to help when he asked.

Quinn grimaced as a wave of dizziness swept over him. He hadn’t felt this bad since before his god was freed. Despite the pain, Quinn thought back to when he fell and to the man standing over him.

The man had laughed and then jumped down beside Quinn. He had rolled onto his back as he held his leg. The man leaned over Quinn and he looked into the man’s face.

Quinn’s eyes flew open as his memories returned. It wasn’t a man but a Warrior.

Quinn forgot the pain as he looked around him. His claws dug into his palms as he heard the wails of people being beaten below. He had heard the same screams before.

When Deirdre had held the brothers prisoner.

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FORBIDDEN

HIGHLANDER

Coming soon from St. Martin’s Paperbacks

“There is something I need as well,” Iver said.

Fallon quirked a brow. “What is it I can help you with, Baron?”

“There is a woman.”

It was always a woman, Fallon thought. Just then, the crowd around him thinned, and he caught a flash of color. He turned his head and found himself staring across the hall into the face of unbelievable grace and beauty. She was so stunning that he had pushed away from the wall and started toward her before he realized what he was doing. But the need to get closer, to take in her loveliness goaded him onward, much as his god pushed at his rage.

“She’s incredible, isn’t she?” Iver whispered by his side. “There isn’t a man in the castle that doesn’t want her in his bed, and there isn’t a man that wouldn’t kill for her if she but said the word.”

Fallon kept his feet rooted in place by force of will alone, but he couldn’t tear his gaze from her lovely oval face. She held herself with elegance and dignity, a noblewoman by birth. Someone bumped into her from behind, and there was a subtle shift of awareness around her that only a warrior would understand, only a warrior would see.

He was more intrigued by the moment. Though Highland women were known to be strong and courageous, they weren’t warriors.

Just as quickly as she had taken stance, she relaxed, the perfection back in place.

“That is what I want, MacLeod,” Iver said. “I want her for my own. Lady Lenora Monroe.”

“How am I supposed to help you with that?”

Iver slapped him on the back. “I’m sure you’ll figure out a way.”

Fallon moved away from Iver before he punched the little weasel. Fallon weaved through the mob around the perimeter of the great hall. He edged closer to Lenora Monroe, admiring the cut of her burgundy gown and the way it clung to the swells of her breasts before hugging her trim waist. She held her hands together at her waist, her long, slim fingers intertwined as she listened to some older woman with a bulbous nose speak.

Fallon peered through the space of two men and watched the beauty with skin the color of cream. Her face was striking with her extraordinary cheekbones and high forehead. She had wide, expressive eyes that captured whoever she looked at, and full lips he knew he would get drunk from kissing.

Then she turned her head and looked straight at him with eyes a dark, smoky blue that seemed to see him for what he really was. She tipped her head in acknowledgment, her golden halo of hair a beacon in the hall.

As soon as she turned her gaze away, he stepped back through the crowd and into the shadows in a corner. He recognized the lust that flared inside him. He recognized it, and feared it.

Fallon licked his lips as he hungered for a taste of wine, anything to help dull the ache of lust in his loins.