“Only of her death?” Duncan spat out.
“Yes.”
Lightning flashed in the night sky, and thunder rumbled far too close, Brigid thought, causing her to shiver. Afraid, but determined to find out, she asked her next question.
“What happened that night, Duncan?”
The wind started howling through the trees, and the look on Duncan’s face was one of anger and pain. He grasped her shoulders, his eyes shifting from sky blue to shards of white crystal, and his fingers bit into her shoulders. She did not flinch, or back away.
Brigid stood tall and looked into his face of fury.
“
Ye have no right
!”
Her voice, when she spoke, held a sense of calm, and Brigid fought to keep it from quivering. “Yes, Duncan, I do. If I am to help you, I need to know what happened that night.
All of it
.”
“Do not ask me what I cannot speak of,” he snapped.
Brigid slowly brought her hand up and placed it on his chest, feeling his heart hammering against her palm.
Her small, simple touch was his undoing.
His lips came crashing down on hers as he thrust his tongue deep within. He tried to control the kiss, but his beast would not relent. He sucked the air from her and gave it back. The kiss was one fused with anger and hunger. Anger for the one question he was not ready to answer, and hunger for her. He pulled at her bottom lip and sucked greedily, causing her to moan.
Picking her up in one swift movement, he strode over to the bed, collapsing on top of it. She pulled at his hair and twined her fingers in it. Taking her tongue, he let her caress his rough chin. Now it was his turn to moan, and he ravished her mouth again, taking her passion, and fueling his. The heat of her breath came out in small gasps. He wanted to suck all the air from her, as if it was not enough. His kiss was urgent and exploratory, and she responded back with her own passion.
Taking her hands, he held them above her head. Burying his face along the side of her neck, he raked his teeth along her skin, searing a path down to her shoulder. She tasted of flowers, berries, and her womanly scent. He wanted to bury himself in her.
Without thought, he ripped her tee shirt up over her head. With one flick of his thumb and finger, he unsnapped her bra. Cupping her breasts, he lavished each, smothering his face between her soft mounds. Bringing his hand up to one breast, he pinched her rosy nipples, watching as she screamed in pleasure, arching under him.
“Sweet mother Danu!” he choked out. Grasping her shoulder, he stared at the strange mark glaring back at him. He gently rubbed his thumb over her right shoulder.
“Duncan? What?” She tried to move, but he held her away from him.
“Ye bear the mark of the dragon, Brigid. Ye have been touched.” Quickly gathering his senses, he released her. Grabbing his plaid, he draped it over her shoulders and stood.
Hands fisted at his sides, he turned and walked to the entrance of the cave. “Rest, Brigid. We leave at dawn.” Giving her one last look over his shoulder, he shoved a hand through his hair and stepped out.
Brigid stared after him in disbelief. What just happened?
Taking her hand, she touched her lips, lips that were still on fire from his touch. Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply of his scent. Then remembering his words, she peered down at her shoulder and saw the mark. It was no bigger than a nickel, reminding her of Celtic knotwork patterns she had seen and greatly admired.
“
Great
. Now I’ve been tattooed by a dragon.”
Chapter 28
“I skip and play through the meadows of time, but when I awake will I know who I am?”
Brigid awoke to birdsong. Sitting up slowly, she worked out the kinks in her neck and shoulders, watching as a small bird chirped at her from the entrance.
Tossing off the plaid and reaching for her leather jacket, she put it on and zipped it up. Glancing down at her partially torn tee shirt, memories of the night before engulfed her in sadness. “Damn you, Duncan, for making me feel this way.” Bunching up the shirt, she rolled it within one of the plaids and folded the other as best she could. She swept her gaze one last time and walked to the entrance. There was no trace of Duncan having slept inside. She could only guess he probably spent the night outdoors.
Stepping outside, the sun was barely up over the hills when she heard...
chanting
?
She spotted Brandubh and Roan tethered to a nearby tree and walked over to them, putting her items into Roan’s pack. Walking slowly, she followed the sound of the chanting, pushing past green branches of pine and stepping upwards away from the path and the waterfall.
Then Brigid saw him.
Duncan was up on a crest, facing the sunrise. Sword in hand and chanting in Gaelic, he would lunge forward, sweeping the sword up and over in an arc.
Brigid’s mouth fell open.
Duncan had not one stitch of clothing on, except for his boots and the torc around his neck. Her heart started beating faster as she stood transfixed by the scene. Every move of his body accentuated his muscles, and her thoughts returned to her earlier images of him as a Celtic god. He moved with the air, and his words became a repetitive chant. Repeatedly, he would move with fluid movements—sword and man as one entity.
Brigid leaned against a tree for support, watching in awe and a growing respect for her Highlander. When did she start thinking of him as
her
Highlander?
Yet, that was precisely how she felt.
She let her eyes travel the length of his brawny torso, where the black hair curled in abundance across his chest and narrowed down the flat plane of his abdomen to his manhood.
The sunrise made its journey up into the sky and she watched it come up over the hill, touching its rays of light on Duncan as if in welcome. The light shimmered across his ebony locks. He threw both his arms up in greeting and spoke in words of Gaelic. Dropping down on one knee, he bent his head in silence.
To Brigid, he was the most powerful, erotic man she had ever met. And regardless of the outcome of her journey, she knew to the very core of her soul there never could nor would there ever be another. Her heart had sealed that fate the moment she met Duncan Mackay in her dreams.
“Oh, great mother,” she whispered. “Help me to help him, and heal my heart when I am no longer here. I can’t do this alone.” Brigid swallowed, and moved silently away from the tree making her way back to the horses.
****
Duncan’s breathing was labored. He remained kneeling until he heard her footsteps move away. He knew the moment Brigid stepped into view, and it took all of his concentration not to turn and look her way. Doing so would only disturb his ritual, and once his eyes met hers he would want to take her,
again
.
He cursed his body for betraying him when she was near as he continued to fight his lust—a lust that was stripping away his sanity. Yet, there was more than just the red haze of his cravings. She touched his soul and spread warmth throughout, reaching inside the darkness and vanquishing the demons.
Seeing the mark of the great dragon yesterday, reminded him of her purpose. She was not his.
Looking up toward the sun, he shook his head and uttered one word. “
Why
?”
Grunting at the mocking silence, Duncan grabbed a fistful of dirt and brought it to his lips. Kissing it gently, he tossed it back to the ground. Reaching for his tunic, he slung it over his shoulders and made his way back to the horses. If they rode hard, they would reach Castle Creag by late night. The sooner the better, he thought.
When he approached, Brigid was speaking to the horses in soothing tones, and he glanced to the right. She had spread what was left of their food and drink on a rock slab.
She approached him and her smile wavered. “I hope you don’t mind, but I filled one of the skins with water. It’s cool and refreshing.”
Wrapping his plaid around him, he strode over to Brandubh and procured a Celtic pin from his pouch, fastening it in place.
“I thought we should eat, though meager it is, before we leave,” she stated taking a seat on an old log.
“Nae, later.” He waved his hand nonchalantly.
Her shoulders slumped. “Duncan, you haven’t eaten much since our journey. You need to eat, please?”
The look of worry on her face was too much for Duncan. Without uttering a word, he sat down and ate a piece of hard cheese and dry bread. He was thankful for the cool water, though a swig of ale would have tasted far better. It was going to be a very long day, considering his brat had her scent mingled in it.
“How long will it take to reach Castle Creag?” she asked softly, her eyes more on the hard food than on him.
“If we ride hard, by nightfall.”
Brigid took a drink of water and asked, “I’m curious, Duncan, why Castle Creag?”
Rubbing a hand across the back of his neck, he gave her the only reason he could think of. “It is the safest place. With riders spotted in this part of the glen, we travel to a place where I can keep ye safe, and Cormac may have answers as well.”
“Who’s Cormac?”
Glancing slightly at Brigid, he answered, “He is laird of Castle Creag, and the only man I can trust.”
Sorcha’s caw brought both of them up short.
Duncan jumped up, reaching for his sword. He stood in front of her as her protector. Sorcha continued circling above them. Duncan nodded, and she flew off in a northern direction.
Moving around to face her, he placed his fingers across her lips in a plea for silence. Moments passed before he released his fingers from her lips. Her indrawn breath told him she had not even allowed herself to breathe. His eyes peered over her head as if awaiting the danger to come forth.
“We cannot stay. Sorcha has spotted riders in the distance.” Cupping her chin with his hand, his gaze bore into hers with concern. “We have to ride hard and fast, Brigid. There will be no stopping. Can ye do this?”
Placing her hand against the growth of his rough beard, she gave him a smile of encouragement and strength, “Yes, Duncan.”
Duncan’s mind screamed not to do it, but his body betrayed him. Bending his head, he brushed a light kiss along her rosy lips. Taking his tongue, he licked up the last of the crumbs along the edges of her mouth. “Good lass. I do not want to leave ye behind.” He released her with a wicked gleam of a smile as he gathered up the last of their meal.
Chapter 29
“Beware the cloak of doom, for thine enemies are close at hand. Shrewd and cunning, and they will rip one’s soul out.”
The guttural sound coming forth from his mouth was one of disgust and contempt.
Why could no one seem to find them? They slipped through the hills sight unseen, as if the very fae were assisting them. It was impossible, since they were cursed and their souls damned. However, days ago the veil of time shifted and someone had passed through. That was a possibility he had not counted on, and he contemplated its outcome in his plans. Taking a hand to his chin, he mulled over new plans, one of which he had to consider.
“Deep in thought again, Lachlan?”
Alex and a group of his men had come upon him, and that did not bode well. Now, he was faced with riding along with them. He thought to question them as to why they were in these parts, but then decided to keep silent.
Lachlan glared at him. “Your greeting is always with such reverence, Alex. One would think I was one of your men.”
“My pardon, great one.” Alex smirked.
Lachlan nodded, making a mental note he would have to tread carefully around him. He knew of Patrick’s disapproval of him, now Alex? They would know the might of his power when this was over. Then the whole lot of MacFhearguises would feel his wrath and give him their due respect.
“Have ye any news of Adam?” Lachlan asked.
Sighing, Alex sat forward looking down at the loch. “Nae. Not a word.” He waved his gloved hand in the air. “It is as if he vanished into the mists.”
Lachlan next words would anger the man and he counted on it. “Duncan Mackay is now on his quest to find the sword, and restore his clan’s honor.” He watched with shrewdness as Alex’s face contorted with anger, his fist clenching.
“By Lugh’s honor, is it true?” Anger and shock infused Alex’s words. “By the gods, how can this be?”
Lachlan held up his hand to quiet him, reveling internally in the reactionary response he got from Alex. “A vision came to me, and I have sensed the shift in power.”
Shaking his head Alex turned his full fury on Lachlan. “Vision? Ye base this on a
vision
? The Mackays were cursed and banished! Twelve moons have passed without a word from the blasted Mackays. They were disbanded. We have spies everywhere who would have spoken of this quest!” Pointing a finger at Lachlan, he continued his rant, “Might I remind ye, druid, that ye were the one to tell us that the relics no longer belonged to their clan and their names stricken from the hallow halls of the fae!”
Lachlan cleared his throat. “Might I remind ye, Alex, I am a
druid
, and visions are gifts from the gods and goddesses. Your skepticism I find—
disturbing
.”
Alex’s jaw clenched.
“Also, I have reported this to your brother, the laird, and he concurs.” Lachlan did not want to divulge he sensed an undercurrent of discontent from Patrick.
Alex tore his gaze away from the druid.
Rubbing a gloved hand over a moon’s growth of a beard, he yelled back to his men. “Sean, come forth!”
“Damnation! Where are ye, Adam?”
Alex grumbled.
Sean rode to his side, giving a silent greeting of welcome to Lachlan. “Aye, Alex?”
“Lachlan tells me Duncan Mackay has taken up a
quest
to find his sword and restore the clan’s honor and wipe the stain clean.”
“Judas’s balls! I did not think it possible?” Sean’s steed snorted and stomped his hoof several times.
Nodding his head toward Lachlan, Alex continued, “It is true I fear.”
“By the hounds of Cuchulainn! Do ye ken where the Mackay is?” Sean asked.
If Michael knew where the Mackay was, Lachlan would have shared the information, and the force of the gods would not be able to hold any MacFhearguis back from their revenge. But Alex still had to ask.