Untamed Highlander

THIRTY-ONE

Hayden stared at his morning meal without seeing it. He wasn’t hungry, not even after having missed the previous evening meal.

His mind whirled with the conversation he’d had with Isla. Hayden had woken early, but had been unable to leave her. He’d sat instead and just watched her.

He didn’t think he had ever watched another person sleep before. It was a new experience, and one that mesmerized him.

She had lain there looking so tempting and beautiful that it was easy to forget she was a drough. The small smile on her lips when she’d awoken had made his heart quicken, but the grin vanished when she’d found him gone from the bed.

Then she had asked for answers he hadn’t wanted to give, had been afraid to give. The more he’d said, the harder it became. He had hurt her. She had tried to hide it, but his words had cut her deeply.

But no more deeply than her telling him she knew he would kill her.

He hadn’t known where the words had come from when he asked, urged her to live for him. As soon as they had been spoken, he knew he could never kill her.

The words had been spoken from the depths of his soul, and as the silence had stretched in the tower, he realized she either couldn’t or wouldn’t answer him.

Not that he blamed her. So he had left before he heard her response. The things he had said to her, the things he had done were atrocious. He didn’t deserve anything for acting like such a beast.

Hayden rested an elbow on the table and put his hand over his face. Everyone ignored him, which was just what he wanted. He picked up bits of discussion here and there but nothing he wanted to contribute to.

He both hoped and dreaded to see Isla. After what had happened last eve and that morning, he wasn’t sure how he would react upon facing her. Not to mention seeing Ian with her.

She smiled for Ian, laughed for Ian. How Hayden hated the boil of envy that caused him.

“You look like death,” Malcolm said as he glanced up from his trencher.

Hayden rubbed the back of his neck. “You mean I look like you?”

A ghost of a smile touched Malcolm’s lips. “Aye. This doesna happen to have anything to do with the beautiful Isla, does it?”

Hayden looked away, but Malcolm must have gotten his answer because he shook his head.

“I thought as much,” Malcolm mumbled.

“Why do you say that?”

Malcolm shrugged his left shoulder. “It isna hard to see there is a deep connection between the two of you. She’s lonely and hurting. You’re confused and angry. There’s an easy solution.”

“What might that be?” Hayden couldn’t help but ask. If someone had an answer, he wanted it.

“Forget she’s a drough. She was forced to do the ceremony, and she beat back her evil. In my mind, that makes her the strongest mie I’ve ever encountered.”

“She’s a drough, but not the same type that I’ve hunted and killed. That, I already figured out.”

“I certainly don’t think she’s a drough so I’m glad you’ve gotten it all sorted out.”

The sarcasm in Malcolm’s voice made Hayden grin. “You think I mock you?”

“I think until you truly face what Isla means to you, you willna be able to see clearly.”

Hayden gave Malcolm a nod before he rose and strode from the castle. There was work to be done, and it was just what he needed to sort through his thoughts.

Deirdre grew impatient the longer Dunmore was gone. She knew Druids were scarce across Scotland, but he should have been able to find one. That’s all she needed, one insignificant Druid who she could sacrifice and gain the magic.

But it was taking too long. She’d tried to connect with Isla again, and had been unsuccessful. It left Deirdre drained of what little magic she had as well as weak. She hated it.

“I need my magic now,” she seethed.

For nearly a thousand years she had been the strongest Druid ever to walk the earth. Now, she was no better than what her sister had been.

Deirdre wished she could have seen Laria’s death. Had her sister lived to a ripe old age, bent and wrinkled? Or had she been taken while she was still young?

Deirdre had looked for her not long after she made Cairn Toul what it was, but Laria hadn’t been found. Laria had no magic, so to sacrifice her would have just been for pleasure. It had been a touchy subject with her parents. As twins, their magic should have been shared, but Deirdre had gotten all of it and Laria none.

“I need my magic!” Deirdre screamed.

But her scream went unheard by all except the wyrran in the mountain. Others used to tremble when she spoke. How could this have happened to her?

The Warriors shouldn’t have been able to harm her, but somehow something had happened that prevented her from fending off their attacks.

She would figure out what it was so that it never occurred again. She would not be put in this situation a second time.

Though Deirdre was nothing more than an invisible, floating mist, she still felt as if she had a body. She moved her arms, shifted her legs, and turned her head.

So when she sensed something in the chamber with her, something that wasn’t a wyrran, she turned and watched in awe as the black cloud poured up from between two stones to surround her.

“Deirdre, Deirdre, Deirdre. Why are you ranting so?” the hard, deep, cold voice asked. The voice was soft, almost mellow, but she knew it could turn vicious in a heartbeat.

“My magic is gone.”

The voice in the cloud laughed coldly, its evil evident. “Of course it hasn’t. You can speak to your wyrran, and even Dunmore. Do you think that is done without magic?”

“Nay,” she said. “But that is nothing to the magic I had.”

The cloud was so thick she couldn’t see out of it. She knew what it was, or rather who. It was diabhul, the Devil, the very being who had given her everything. She served him willingly, and he was the only thing she feared.

“I warned you about taking the Druids too soon. Dunmore is having difficulty finding one for you. It could take weeks. Months even.”

Deirdre cringed. That wasn’t what she wanted to hear. “I will kill Dunmore if he fails me.”

The cloud laughed again. “Ah, but you are an insatiable one. Do you think your revenge cannot wait? The MacLeods will still be there.”

“I need Isla.”

“I wondered when you would get to her. Be careful there, Deirdre. I warned you that Isla was stronger than you realized. Making her turn drough was not a good idea.”

But Deirdre wasn’t worried. “She’s mine to control. There is no way for her to break the connection between us. As long as she’s alive, she’s mine.”

“Hmmm,” the cloud said. “I don’t think you can still control her.”

“Why do you say that?”

“She’s with the MacLeods.”

Deirdre stilled. She knew he would never lie to her. “She cannot escape me.”

“Your anger is fierce, Deirdre. Feed off of it, nurture it. You will have vengeance and what better way to begin than inside MacLeod Castle? Use Isla to kill the Druids. Then let the Warriors kill Isla.”

“Aye,” Deirdre agreed. “Can you assist me?”

There was a moment of silence before the cloud began to thin and disappear back into the rocks. “You will have your wish, but I will expect something in return.”

“Anything you want.”

“I’ll let you know what that is later. For now, grow your magic.”

Deirdre instantly felt stronger. She waved a hand in front of her face and actually saw her fingers instead of nothing as before.

She concentrated on Isla, letting her fury build until it consumed her. Her magic increased enough that she could see herself in the mirror.

Deirdre wasn’t whole yet. She could see through her body, but she was close, so close.

She would have Isla and her vengeance. And once Isla was back in Cairn Toul, Deirdre would punish her again and again until her anger was appeased.

It could take centuries, but Deirdre would have the time. There was nothing that could stop her now.

Isla put a hand to her forehead. The headache had begun not long after the morning meal as a dull ache and had only increased as the day progressed. No matter what Isla did, nothing would relieve the throbbing.

“What is wrong?” Ian asked from beside her.

Isla raised her head and forced a smile. “My head aches.”

“Still?”

She saw the worry in his eyes. “I’m just concerned about everything. I’ll be fine.”

“Have you asked Sonya to heal you?”

Isla wouldn’t ask for help unless the pain became unbearable. She raised a brow and went back to sweeping out the cottage. “If I don’t feel better by the time we’re done here I’ll go to Sonya.”

“Why doona I believe you?”

She smiled in spite of her pain.

“Does your head ache often?”

“Nay. In fact, this is my second since arriving here.”

Ian scratched his whiskered jaw. “And before?”

“None like this.” Her head always ached before Deirdre took control, but this felt different. Still. Could it be Deirdre?

Her blood turned to ice. It couldn’t be happening already. If Deirdre had her magic, she could have easily gotten control of Isla’s mind.

Isla’s shield would have dimmed Deirdre’s magic, but not enough to prevent it. Unless Deirdre was still very weak. None of which boded well for them.

If Deirdre was strong enough to cause Isla’s head to hurt, then it was only a matter of time — a very short time — before Deirdre was strong enough to take over completely.

Isla dropped the broom and started out the cottage door. She had to tell the MacLeods. She took two steps outside before she ground to a sudden halt.

The sun blinded her and increased her agony until she could hardly breathe. She doubled over and bit her lip to keep from crying out. She reached out her hand for the cottage to help guide her when strong, familiar hands took hold of her.

“I’ve got you,” Hayden said.

Isla had never been more relieved to be lifted in his arms. She wound her arm around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder.

“What happened?” he asked.

There were footsteps and then she heard Ian say, “It’s her head.”

“It hurts,” Isla whispered. “The sun hurts my eyes.”

Hayden rubbed his check on top of her head. “I’ll get you somewhere safe. Trust me.”

It never entered her mind not to. As long as Hayden was near, she knew she was safe.