Untamed Highlander

SIX

Isla knew her statement shocked them. “As soon as the command is given, I lose control of my body. I have no memory of what takes place while Deirdre has control. She cannot hold me for long, though, as it requires a tremendous amount of magic.”

Once again the hall erupted in sound as they talked amongst themselves about her revelation. She imagined it was worrisome, and it was the reason she couldn’t stay.

Fallon raised his hand and quiet once more reigned. “Have you ever gotten control during one of these … outings?”

“Once,” Isla said, barely hiding the shudder that wracked her. “Only once.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Isla didn’t like to think of the time Deirdre’s control had slipped. It had been horrifying. To see for herself just how vicious and gruesome she was at killing had left Isla physically ill. She had retched long after there was anything left in her stomach.

Isla licked her lips. “I cannot stop Deirdre from taking control of me. It’s the reason I need to leave immediately. For every moment I am here I put all of you in danger.”

“But you could help us.”

Isla looked at the female. She recognized the Druid with the fiery hair as the one who had put the sleeping chant on her. The mie’s magic was strong, very strong. “Who are you?”

“Sonya.”

“You would risk everyone’s lives on the chance that I could help you, Sonya?” Isla asked.

“The information you could give us about Deirdre will help us. Knowledge is power.”

Marcail chose that moment to speak up. “And what of the shielding you told me about?”

Isla regretted telling Marcail of her ability. Staying at the castle was the last thing Isla needed to do. She stood, the cool stones penetrating her stockings. “You don’t understand. None of you understand.”

“We do,” Broc said as he also rose and walked towards her. “You know things about Deirdre’s magic that we don’t. Think what we could do to her with our combined knowledge.”

Isla looked at Marcail, the Druid’s hand once more on her stomach. Another child’s life was in the balance. But was it worth the risk for Isla to stay?

The answer was a resounding nay.

“I’m sorry, but I cannot. It will take another day for my body to heal the wound, and then I must go.”

“Go where?” Fallon asked.

Isla shrugged. “Does it matter? I will go far away from here, away from anyone and everyone so I can no longer be used to harm people. Had Hayden taken my head as I asked, none of you would be in jeopardy.”

Duncan slammed his hand on the table. “You canna really expect us to believe you want to die.”

She looked into the Warrior’s brown eyes that were full of anger and vengeance. “There is nothing I want more. I’m tired of being used, tired of having no control over my destiny, my life. I want it to end.”

“And the only way to do that is to take your head?” Quinn asked.

Isla nodded and swallowed the lump that had grown in her throat. “Just as a Warrior can only die by taking his head, my life will not come to an end unless Deirdre dies or my head is severed from my body.”

“Holy hell,” Quinn mumbled and blew out a harsh breath.

Isla then thought about the last thing Deirdre had been researching. Maybe if she told the MacLeods it would be enough for them to turn their attention away from her. Isla could use her powers against them. They were Warriors and therefore strong with their gods’ powers, but she was a drough with five hundred years of perfecting her magic. She would be a force to be reckoned with, but she’d rather not hurt anyone at MacLeod Castle. They were good people trying to do the right thing.

She walked to the table and sat down the wine she had barely touched. “Deirdre prided herself on her knowledge of Druids and magic. She knew there were those among the Druids who plotted their revenge and gave magic to items that could hamper her powers.”

Isla ignored the stares and walked around the great hall. Hayden had shifted from his place against the wall and moved toward her. Did he think she meant to flee? That would come in time, but not yet.

“What are you speaking of, woman?” Hayden demanded. His voice was hard and laced with impatience and a bit of doubt. But the way he watched her, with intent and hunger, made her heart race.

“Objects actually. They are hidden all over Scotland. Some that could hinder Deirdre’s magic, others she could turn so that they gave her even more power.”

Lucan groaned. “Just what we need. Deirdre more powerful than she already is.”

Isla stopped when she stood in front of Hayden. She had to tilt her head back just to look into his face, and what a handsome face it was. She found herself reaching up to trace his wide lips, but caught herself in time, tucking her hair behind her ear to hide what she had been about.

If she wasn’t who she was and things were different, she might actually think of flirting with him.

As soon as the thought filled her mind she disregarded it. Thinking such thoughts wasn’t for her. Her path had already been set, and there would be no altering it.

“How do you know of these … objects?” Hayden asked.

She gazed into his eyes, eyes so black she couldn’t see his pupils. Hayden wasn’t a man who bent for anyone or anything. He was a man shaped by his life just as she was, so Isla understood his gruffness.

“Long ago when I was but a child there were stories of some powerful Druid tribes who had relics passed down to each high priestess. Every generation, the Druids of the village would pour their magic into these relics.”

Hayden’s brow furrowed. “Why would they do such a thing?”

“After what happened with the release of the gods and being unable to remove the gods from the men, the Druids sought to find another way to protect Britain. They believed if an object had enough magic that it could keep us safe.”

“And did it?”

Isla briefly closed her eyes. “It was never put to the test. With Deirdre pursuing them and the Christians wanting them dead, the Druids had to bury these objects and hide. The locations were supposedly passed down through the ages.”

“Aye,” Sonya voice interrupted. “I’ve heard such tales from the Druids that raised me. They themselves did not have such a relic, but they retold the stories nonetheless.”

Fallon looked from Sonya to Isla. “Do either of you know where one of these relics is buried?”

“Not exactly,” Isla said. “I discovered what Deirdre was looking for when she began to ask me questions about those tales. So, I asked a few questions of my own.”

She paused then and looked back at Hayden. “I’m not sure how much I believe of what she told me next.”

“Why?” Hayden asked.

“Because she lies.”

“True enough,” Quinn said. “But tell us what she told you.”

Isla made her feet move away from Hayden. Being so near him unsettled her, made her think of only him, of how it felt to have his arms around her. There was something about the giant that set her off balance, and around these Warriors Isla needed to keep her focus.

She walked back to the chair she had sat in and looked at the group of Warriors and Druids who watched her. “Deirdre told me that my sister had given her a clue as to where to find the one object that could kill her.”

“What?” Fallon bellowed. “And you’re just now telling us?”

“I was going to find it myself,” Isla hurried to say. “However, I realize now I would never get to it before Deirdre finds me. Once I woke up here, I knew if anyone could find the object, it was one of you.”

A Warrior with black hair cut short rose to his feet. She looked into his gray eyes for the second time that day, and it was then she remembered who he was. Ramsey MacDonald.

“Ramsey,” she whispered.

So many Warriors had been in and out of the mountain that Isla couldn’t remember them all, but a few stood out. Ramsey was just such a Warrior. He and Broc had been inseparable while they’d been prisoners. Then one day Ramsey had escaped and Broc had given his allegiance to Deirdre. Isla now wondered if that allegiance had ever been genuine.

“You know me?” Ramsey asked as he walked toward her.

She felt a presence beside her, and somehow wasn’t surprised to find Hayden had moved near her. “I remember you from when you were held prisoner. Deirdre wanted you on her side desperately. She knew your god held great power.”

Ramsey cocked his head to the side as he regarded her. “Galen tells us that you were tortured at Deirdre’s hand.”

Isla was thankful her hand rested on the chair, for her knees nearly buckled. She forced her breathing to remain calm. “And who is Galen?”

“Me,” said a tall Warrior with dark blond hair and deep blue eyes. “I have the power to read minds. I saw into yours when Hayden and Fallon brought you back to the castle.”

Her gut twisted and knotted viciously. To know someone had witnessed the things she had been through left her shaking and cold. “You had no right.”

Galen lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “You were fighting Sonya’s healing. We needed to know why.”

“And so you shared my private hell with everyone?”

“Isla,” Broc said. “Galen told us because he thought it was proof enough for us to trust you.”

She forced a laugh to keep her anger in check. “So, again, my tortures are evidence enough for you to believe me?”

“When I was in the mountain,” Quinn said, “you walked past me in the corridor and I saw blood dripping from your hand. What happened?”

Isla took a step back and slammed into a wall of muscle.

“Easy,” Hayden’s deep voice whispered.

Just knowing it was him behind her gave her a measure of calm, but it didn’t stop the humiliation of them knowing what she had been through. Repeatedly.

With no other choice, Isla smothered her emotions and kept the anger from her voice even as her heart hammered wildly in her chest. “Since you know everything else, there’s no reason not to speak of it. I was punished for disobeying Deirdre.”

“How?” Hayden promoted.

“I…” The knot in Isla’s stomach tightened as she recalled her last punishment from Deirdre. Isla had taken too long in gaining Phelan’s blood for Deirdre. The Warrior’s blood would heal anything, but in Deirdre it only strengthened her evil. “I hesitated to bleed a Warrior. So, I was punished.”

It was too much. Recalling Phelan and the disgust in his eyes for her made her ill. She had kept her dreams and thoughts to herself these last five centuries. To know her mind had been invaded, for whatever reason, was a violation she couldn’t stomach.

Isla needed some time to herself. She spun away from Hayden and walked to the door as if she wasn’t hurting and silently screaming inside. No one stopped her as she opened the door and stepped into the bailey.

*

Hayden held up a hand when Marcail and Broc went to follow her. “Give her some time. She feels as though she’s been invaded.”

Galen set his jaw, his unreadable gaze on the door. “She was. By me.”

“And if she tries to run away?” Fallon asked.

Hayden lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “Then Broc can find her.”

Ramsey raised a black brow and asked, “Why do you care about her, Hayden? She is a drough.”

Hayden glared at Ramsey, hating him for daring to speak the very thoughts he himself had. He was having a difficult enough time dealing with his need to kill and protect Isla. He didn’t need the others to know what was going on inside him.

“We need all the information, don’t we? After that, if she still wants to die, I see no reason not to give her what she wants.”

“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.