Darkest Highlander (17 page)

Broc never took his eyes from Sonya as she knelt on a long, mostly level rock and dipped her hands into the cool water. She splashed her face, the water droplets trickling over her jaw and down her throat before disappearing into her gown.

He had never been so envious of water before. It was touching her as Broc had never dared, but he had certainly dreamed about. He knew her kiss, but he wanted to know all of her. Every wonderful, delightful inch of her.

As if sensing his gaze, she looked over her shoulder at him. The hair around her face was damp and curling into thick ringlets. The sun peeked from behind a cloud and set her locks on fire.

Sonya smoothed her hair from her face and returned to Broc. “Tell me how you got loose from Deirdre. And why they took you.”

“They took me because Deirdre wanted revenge. I betrayed her. She always suspected Quinn would, but I had fooled her.”

Sonya nodded, her lips twisting wryly. “I see.”

“She was going to kill me and bring me back to life as many times as it took for the evil to take root and my god to seize control.”

“Could that really happen?”

He frowned. “Aye.”

“By all that’s holy,” Sonya murmured. “How many times did she kill you?”

“None.”

Sonya’s eyes grew large. “What did you do?”

“She’s vain. I was able to get her to talk about herself. She has always been too confident, too certain of the outcomes. She began to tell me about another artifact she has located.”

Sonya smiled. “Ah, the reason we are in Glencoe.”

“Exactly. I doona know where precisely the artifact is, but I know it is in a Celtic burial mound.”

“Tell me you’re jesting,” Sonya said with a shiver. “You know no one can go inside the mounds.”

“I wish I were jesting.”

“She could be lying.”

Broc shook his head. “I know her, Sonya. She wasna.”

“Forget the tomb right now. I want to know how you got free of her.”

“She had me far below the mountain where she kept Phelan all those years.”

Sonya’s face crinkled with disgust. “Isla told me that place is desolate.”

“The entire mountain is. But I was isolated there, and that’s what she wanted. I was to be the leader of her new Warriors. She threatened to harm those I cared about, and with her magical chains holding me, I couldna get free.”

“Did you convince her to release you?”

He smiled. “Somehow through the agony of the
drough
blood I recalled the spell I heard her use to unlock doors and chains. I knew I had nothing to lose in trying it.”

“But you aren’t a Druid. How could the magic work for you?”

Broc shrugged. “It’s just a spell.”

“Anyone can say a spell, but you if don’t have magic, it won’t work.”

“I suppose there’s some in my god then, because the chains released me.”

Sonya bit her lip with her teeth. “There must be some magic in your god, in all the gods. It would explain how the Warriors can sense Druid magic.”

“It certainly would.”

“I cannot imagine Deirdre was happy when the chains released you.”

Broc chuckled as he recalled Deirdre’s fury. “She was more surprised than I that it actually worked. I attacked her and beheaded her before I turned to Dunmore. I killed him and went looking for you.”

“That’s quite a story.”

“As was yours.”

She ducked her head and smiled. “We were lucky, Broc.”

“Verra lucky.”

“Almost too lucky, some would say.”

Broc sighed, Sonya’s words echoing his from earlier. “If she captures us again, neither of us will be so fortunate.”

“Precisely,” Sonya said. “Which is why I think it would be wiser to return to MacLeod Castle and gather more Warriors to search for the tomb.”

Broc shook his head. “We doona have the time. Deirdre knows Reaghan is the first artifact. If Deirdre amasses the artifacts, we’ve failed. We have to try. I’ve gotten us here before them. If we hurry, we should be able to find the burial mound and retrieve the artifact well before Deirdre arrives.”

For long moments Sonya stared at him before she smiled and stood. “I suppose we need to begin searching then.”

EIGHTEEN

Deirdre rose up on her elbows and wiped the blood from her lips with the back of her hand. She rolled over and sat up only to find Dunmore’s body, twisted and broken, beside her.

Somehow Broc had gotten free of her chains. How could a Warrior use her spell? She had never thought any of them paid attention to her spells, or would realize how valuable they would be.

Apparently she had been wrong.

And she loathed being wrong.

Once more she was without a Warrior. It would have taken weeks to break Broc into the Warrior she wanted and needed, but it would have been worth it. Broc was a leader, had been a leader in his former life.

He would have been the perfect Warrior to challenge Fallon MacLeod to rule the others. But she knew exactly where to begin searching for Broc.

“Deirdre,” whispered a voice in the cavern.

The deep, gravelly voice bounced off the stone walls and echoed around her. The black smoke came from nowhere and encircled her, constricting her breathing and hampering her movements.

“My lord,” she whispered, because she could barely talk.

The voice tsked several times. “Deirdre, you had him within your grasp. I told you all you needed to do to convert him and have his god take control.”

“I didn’t realize he knew my spell.”

“Or that he could use it,” the voice said stonily.

Deirdre refused to show fear. This was
diabhul
, Satan, her master. She had given her soul to him and would do all that he commanded. “I have failed you now, but he will be mine.”

“You need him and Quinn. There are others, but for now, concentrate on those two.”

Deirdre nodded. “I will see it done, my lord.”

“I want this world covered in darkness. For death and fear to fill the air. You will rule it, Deirdre. I choose you from all the
drough
because you are the only one who has the boldness to see this through.”

“I have done everything you asked.”

“No!” the voice boomed around her. “Your insolence allowed the MacLeods to escape again and again. Now, you have no Warriors and Broc is gone.”

Her skin prickled where his anger coated her. It felt as if she were on fire. “There are the artifacts still.”

The annoyance disappeared as he chuckled. “Do you really believe those will help you? The MacLeods already have one, and your overconfidence has given Broc the means to acquire the second.”

“I will stop him.”

“Forget the artifacts. They are nothing. No amount of magic can compare to my power. And yours. You know this.”

“Aye, my lord, but the Seer said if I am to succeed, I need the artifacts.”

The smoke began to drift upward. “I command you again, Deirdre. Forget the artifacts. Find more Warriors. You will need them.”

Deirdre waited until the smoke was gone before she rose to her feet. She had always listened to her lord, but this time she could not. She knew in the depths of her black soul she needed those artifacts.

And she would have them.

Deirdre left the cavern, her mind forming multiple plans as she walked the never-ending stairway to the top. Once she reached the doorway, she called to her wyrran. She sent groups of six of them to the clans where she knew a god was passed down through their blood.

Once the wyrran had departed, she hurried to create more. She had lost so many in her battle with the MacLeods, but the wyrran were easy to form. She would have her army.

How many hours passed as she worked, she didn’t know.

Deirdre leaned her hands against the stones as exhaustion weighed upon her. She had been creating wyrran for hours. The stones, however, gave her the relief and strength she needed to fortify her.

And as much as she didn’t want to, she knew she had to leave her precious mountain to seek Broc.

*   *   *

Sonya walked beside Broc in companionable silence. The hills they crossed had been easy to climb. So far they hadn’t seen any burial mounds, but with the landscape, they could easily pass near one and not know it.

She glanced at the mountains. “I don’t think the mound would be in the mountains.”

“Nay,” Broc agreed. “Too much rock.”

“It could be anywhere. Should we go to the village and ask?”

Broc shook his head. “I doona want anyone to know we’re looking for it.”

“Then we could be searching for weeks.”

“Let’s hope no’. It willna be too much longer before Deirdre arrives.”

Sonya frowned. “Deirdre? She never leaves her mountain.”

“Things have changed. I suspect since losing the first artifact she’ll come for this one herself.”

Sonya hoped Broc was wrong. She didn’t want to encounter Deirdre, not with her magic as low as it was. “Maybe you should take a look from above. Fly around and see if you can see anything.”

“No’ without you,” he said.

“I’ll stay right here.”

He stopped to look around them before he turned dark eyes filled with reluctance and determination on her. “In the open? Where anyone could see you? I doona think so.”

“You said yourself a wyrran can smell my magic. What difference does it make where I am?”

Broc clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes. “I’m no’ leaving you.”

“You want to find the tomb, and we need to hurry. What other choice do we have?”

“Nay. This isna a debate, Sonya.”

Sonya faced him, an idea taking root. “What if you use your power? You can find anyone. Why not whoever is buried in the mound?”

“Because I doona know who this person was. I have to know who I’m searching for or it doesna work.”

“Oh,” she said, and began walking again. She had thought she had solved their dilemma.

Broc caught up with her in two strides. “It was a good thought. Verra clever thinking.”

Such words shouldn’t make her so happy, but they did. Deliriously so.

They walked for another quarter hour before Broc turned them off their course.

“What are you doing?”

“There’s a storm coming,” he said and pointed to the sky.

Sonya glanced up and saw the clouds gathering overhead. She hadn’t even noticed them. The Highlands were notorious for sudden, freak storms and disorienting mists which descended from the mountains when least expected.

No sooner had Broc mentioned the storm than it began to drizzle rain. Sonya gripped his hand when he took hold of her and led her toward the mountains.

The last thing she wanted to do was try to climb on the wet rocks, but she followed Broc. By the time they reached the edge of the mountain she was soaked through and shivering.

“Here,” Broc shouted over the din of the rain.

Sonya followed him into the cave and stopped at the entrance as he let the satchel drop from his hands. She couldn’t see in the dark as he could with his advanced eyesight, and until she knew nothing lurked in the gloom, like a wolf, she wasn’t going to move.

Broc glanced at her and grinned. “There’s nothing in the cave, Sonya.”

“How far back does it go?”

“A ways. Stay here and I will take a look.”

Before she could tell him nay, he was gone.

Sonya turned and put her back against the wall of the cave. She wrapped her arms around her middle and tried to keep warm. Her eyes felt as if sand coated them. She rubbed them, then immediately wished she hadn’t since it only made them burn worse.

“Nothing,” Broc said as he walked toward her from out of the darkness. “I did find a few pieces of wood. They’re small, but they’ll start a fire.”

Sonya took the wood from him. “I’ll get this going. Go look for more before it gets too wet.”

She set about stacking the wood and had just got the fire lit when Broc returned with more wood. “This is going to have to last us.”

“We can begin looking again as soon as the storm lets up,” she said and huddled as close to the fire as she could.

Broc tugged his tunic over his head and spread it out to dry. “You need to remove your clothes so they can dry. I doona want to chance you becoming ill and no’ being able to heal yourself.”

She swallowed nervously and glanced at his mouth, a mouth that had kissed her softly, sensuously. Thoroughly. She had done well in not letting him realize just how much that kiss had affected her, but she couldn’t lie to herself. Not when she craved more of him.

Sonya cleared her throat and tugged at the clinging, wet material as it stuck to her. There was nothing for her to cover herself with. Broc had taken her cloak, and as far as she knew, it was still out in the woods somewhere.

His dark, soulful eyes turned to her. She couldn’t read his emotions, never knew what he was thinking, because he kept himself closed off and apart from everyone else. He’d had to in order to survive in Deirdre’s mountain.

Sonya shifted onto her bottom and removed her shoes. Broc held her gaze the entire time. He didn’t look away when she pulled her skirts up to her calves so she could remove her wool stockings.

He didn’t look away when she rose up on her knees and began to gather her skirts in her hand. It wasn’t until the cool air hit her legs that he dropped his gaze and turned his back to her.

She was disappointed he had turned away. Maybe the kiss had just been a kindness. Maybe it meant nothing and she was simply making a fool of herself.

Sonya spread out her stockings and her gown near the fire. She shivered in her wet chemise, but when she turned around, Broc held out a tartan, his face angled away.

“Warm yourself with this,” he said.

She hastily removed her chemise and grabbed the tartan to wrap around her shoulders, thankful someone had thought to pack it in the satchel. She sat before the fire and hoped it chased the chill away.

Broc sat across from her and stirred the fire with a long stick. “You should probably rest.”

“You as well.”

“I will.”

“How did you know the cave was here?”