Dragon Knight's Axe (25 page)

“Guard her, Merlin.” Wiping a lock from her pale face, he said another prayer and stood.

Searching through the trees, he spotted Molly. She snorted softly as he approached. “Och, there now,” he murmured softly. Gripping her reins, he continued to speak quietly as his hand gently ran down her back, slowly making his way to where the arrow was embedded. “’Tis not deep, my beauty.” And with one swift grasp, he pulled it free.

The horse let out her disapproval, but for the most part, she remained calm as Alastair continued to speak to her. After a few moments, he led her down the hill and using a rope, he tied her to Gawain.

“Does she live?” Patrick asked.

“Aye,” he answered softly. As if anticipating his next question, he added, “I will take her to Urquhart.”

“Then ye can inform my brother, Alex, that he is the new Laird of Leomhann.”

Alastair cringed. Giving him a nod, he watched as the man silently walked away.

****

The rain had returned, and Alastair bundled Fiona closer to his chest. They had traveled many hours with no sign of her awakening. Not even a whisper of sound passed from her lips, and he hated the silence. The gash on her head had ceased bleeding, and for that, he was grateful. How he longed to race onward to Urquhart, but he feared that would harm her more.

Slowly they went, making their way deeper into his homeland. Old memories of long ago returned. Good times of laughter and discovery, before the darkness had fallen. Would his brothers welcome his return? Especially after the death of the MacFhearguis? They were trying to heal two feuding families, and he had only brought more bloodshed to their front door.

Sadness engulfed him. He had failed everyone, including Fiona.

Words that Desmond had uttered to him came back to haunt him. And if she died…pushing those thoughts aside, he resumed his belief that she would survive. Surely, there was a healer at Urquhart. Or perhaps a druid that could aid in her healing.

Passing the waters of Loch Ness, he turned his face away from where the Great Dragon lived. When they had escaped, he actually considered having Fiona present the axe to the Great Dragon. Now, all he wanted to do was toss it into the waters.

“Will ye not wake,
leannan
?” he pleaded. His strong brave warrior now as silent as the mists.

When did he lose his heart to Fiona O’Quinlan? Slowly and steadily, she had woven her way in and he let her. He smiled at his first recollection of her standing at the slave market. She might have been scared, but he remembered seeing the wee lass holding her head high with eyes as blue as the sky.

Without thought, the beast and the man took charge to rescue her. She had called to them both like a siren. Oh, he had tried to fight it, but the harder he fought, the more difficult the battle.

His heart splintered realizing that he loved her. A love that should never have found its way to him. He believed himself unworthy. Now gazing back down at his woman, Alastair understood that his only path to redemption lay in his arms.

“Ye will come back to me, Fiona. Do ye hear me? If ye leave me, ye take my heart. And on that day”—his voice catching—“I will surely become the beast.”

Chapter Thirty-Two

“When the Fae came to Ireland they dusted the evening sky with faery dust. Some call them stars.”

“Hmmm…what are ye doing out in this rain, my love?” Stephen MacKay asked, sweeping aside Aileen’s silver blonde tresses and placing a kiss below her ear.

Sighing deeply, she leaned against him. “Enjoying the sweet bliss of coolness after the heat we’ve been having.”

Bringing his arms around her, he looked out at the valley below. “I thought that swimming in the loch brought ye some relief.” He trailed kisses along her neck, reveling in the moans that escaped from her throat.

“That’s not the relief I was speaking of and you…Stephen, what are you doing?” She gasped trying to turn around.

“Undoing your laces.”

“Here? On the wall? Where everyone can see?” she squeaked.

He peeked over her head. “I see no one.”

She swatted at his hands. “Stop. I’m supposed to help Brigid with altering some new clothes for me.”

He chuckled low, finding he loved the soft swell of her growing womb carrying their child. “Have I told ye how beautiful ye are, Aileen MacKay?”

Before she could utter a response, he captured her mouth along with her soft sigh. Soon, she was wrapping her arms around his neck, pressing into his arousal.

He groaned deeply.

Finally releasing her from the kiss, her eyes sparkled with desire. “Well, I do have to change, since I am now thoroughly wet.”

His smile of satisfaction turned predatory when she sauntered away.

Stephen got no further than a few steps when he heard shouting. Stepping over to the wall, he glanced at the rider approaching. Watching as they made their way to the portcullis, the rider halted and waited for them to raise the gate.

Tucking her arm through his, Aileen asked, “Who is it?”

He braced his hands on the cool stone, not believing what he saw. “God’s blood, can it be?” Grabbing her hands, Stephen placed a kiss on each. “Alastair has returned home.”

Running down the steps, his mind raced. Even in the early evening sky, he could make out his brother’s features, and he had someone in his arms.

Sweeping past Brigid, he yelled, “Where’s Duncan?”

“In the great hall with Alex. Why?”

“Our brother, Alastair, is here.”

“I’ll get Delia to prepare some food and drink,” she shouted back.

Crashing through the large oak doors, he caught the eye of his brother, Duncan. “It is Alastair.”

Duncan stood abruptly. “Great Goddess.
Here
?”

“Aye, and he brings another.” Without waiting, Stephen left to go greet his brother. His mind whirled with questions. Never did he fathom that he would see his little brother come walking through the doors of Urquhart so soon.

His heart soared until he saw him dismount. The man walking toward him was not the brother he recognized. No, the man staring back at him was of another who had seen many battles.

“Welcome home, Alastair.” His voice sounding gruff with emotion.

“Do ye have a healer?” demanded Alastair.

“Aye,” interjected Duncan. “Is it for the woman in your arms?”

“Send the healer to my chambers.”

Stephen and Duncan watched as their brother stepped past them with a large dog trotting after him. Each turned to the other and Stephen saw the look of worry in Duncan’s eyes. “Did ye see his face?”

“Lugh’s balls! What could have happened to him?” Duncan hissed, rubbing a hand over his face.

“He has the features of a warrior too long at battle,” answered Stephen, making his way to Alastair’s horse.

“One of the horses is injured,” said Tiernan, one of Duncan’s men.

Duncan placed a hand on his shoulder. “See what can be done. Have Finn help ye.”

Muttering softly, Tiernan led the horses away.

“Wait,” said Stephen, frowning. Lifting the flap on the side of the horse, he let out a curse. “It would seem as if he has found his relic.”

“But not cleansed,” replied Duncan, running his hand over the top. “There is no energy within.”

“We cannae interfere, Duncan. He must find his own path.”

“Ye tell me truths I already ken, Brother.” Nodding to Tiernan to lead the horses away, Duncan rubbed at the back of his neck in obvious frustration.

“Well, where is he?” Brigid asked with Aileen following behind her.

“In his chambers,” answered Stephen. “He requires a healer for the woman he has with him.”

Aileen went into his arms. “I would like to help.”

Stephen tilted her chin up to meet his eyes. “Let us see what Matilda can do for her, first. I fear Alastair will not take kindly to your
Fae
assistance.” He saw her confusion and placed a kiss on her brow. “His journey has not ended.”

“Can’t we do anything?” pleaded Brigid.

Duncan reached for her hand and placed it on his chest. “Och, what would ye have me do? It would not be right. He must find redemption on his own. I can tell ye that he holds the Fae in little or no regard.”

“I remember those days,” interjected Stephen. “Full of dark thoughts regarding them.”

Aileen snorted softly. “I’m certainly glad that you changed your mind, especially since I’m half Fae, too.”

Brigid gave Duncan a quick kiss before releasing him. “I can at least feed your brother. Come, Aileen. Perhaps you can teach me how to prepare that healing tea you’ve been telling me about.”

“Brigid.” Duncan’s tone held more warning than amusement, though his mouth quirked at the corners.

She waved him off, linking her arm with Aileen’s as they walked quickly back into the castle.

Nell came bounding out the front and nearly collided with the two women. “Och, sorry.”

Brigid caught her outstretched arm to steady her. “What’s the rush?”

“Did ye not see the new dog? He’s so verra handsome,” she stated beaming.

“Yes, I did,” smiled Brigid.

“Will he be staying long?”

“Duncan and Stephen’s brother,
or
the dog?”

Nell snickered. “
Merlin,
the dog.”

Duncan placed a gentle hand on Nell’s shoulder. “How do ye ken his name?”

“I asked the man as he held the door open for the dog.” Her eyes went wide as she continued, “He even let me touch Merlin.”

“Did he now.”

“Och, the poor thing. He said they had a rough journey, and the dog needed to rest.”

“Why don’t ye go with your mother and Aileen and look for some scraps for the dog. I am sure he is hungry, too.”

“Thank ye, Father,” she said giving Duncan a quick hug.

As Stephen watched Nell scamper off to join Aileen and Brigid, he cast his brother a sideways glance. “Fatherhood agrees with ye. Ye do ken that she will have ye in knots in a few years.”

“Humph! I will send her to the nearest convent on that day.”

Clamping a firm hand on Duncan’s shoulder, he let out a bark of laughter.

****

Alastair stared at the unmoving woman lying in his bed. He had stripped her boots off and loosened her laces. Until the healer arrived, he would do no more. A cold knife of fear had taken up residence in his chest with each passing hour that she remained silent.

Walking over to the window, he brushed aside the tapestry to let some of the cooler air into the room. Looking down below, emotions blurred recalling the moment he stepped through the gate. He could barely form the words to speak to either brother. He felt like an outsider—intruding on their calm, peaceful lives.

This was
their
home. Not his.

Shoving the uneasiness back down, he walked over and retrieved a chair, placing it next to the bed. Picking up Fiona’s pale hand, he kissed each bruised fingertip. Thoughts of her bathing came back to him. If only she would awaken, he would bath her until her skin glistened.

Merlin padded over to him, putting his head next to his thigh.

“She will not wake, my friend.” Scratching behind his ear, Alastair continued to stare at Fiona’s face—willing her eyes to open.

He was startled when the door opened. Duncan calmly walked into the room, and then stepped aside to let a small woman enter. A flare of recognition passed through his mind, and he frowned trying to remember.

“This is Matilda, Alastair. She is here to tend to the woman,” Duncan said as he closed the door.

“Her name is Fiona,” he stated gruffly.

Matilda smiled and walked over to Alastair. “’Tis good to see ye, since I feared ye would never return.” She squeezed him lightly on the shoulder, and he could feel the weight of her words.

Standing, Alastair swept his hand out toward Fiona. “She will not wake.”

“What happened?” Matilda asked softly.

He glanced up at his brother before turning his gaze back to Fiona. “Her horse took an arrow and she fell off, hitting her head on a boulder.”

Alastair waited for a response from Duncan, but his brother kept silent.

Matilda brushed a hand across her temple. “Her face is pale.” Leaning closer, she closed her eyes and placed a hand below her throat. Moments passed before she finally opened them. “Her breathing is steady, which is a good sign. There are times when the mind puts the body in a deep sleep, so that it may heal. For now, I will require some warm water and cloths to cleanse the wound. We cannae risk the lass to catch a fever.”

Alastair rubbed a hand over his weary face. “Ye are correct. She must be healing.” A tiny spark of hope threaded its way inside of him, and he let out a sigh.

“Ye are tired. Eat and get some rest. I will stay with her.”

Shaking his head, Alastair took Fiona’s hand. “Nae,” he uttered softly. “I intend to stay until she wakes.”

“Is she your woman?” asked Duncan pushing away from the wall where he stood.

Without hesitation, he answered, “Aye.”

Matilda tilted her head up at him. “Then it would do ye good to get some food first before ye keep watch over her.”

He waved her off. “Not hungry.”

“Liar,” stated Duncan. “I can hear your stomach from across the room. Brigid is preparing your meal as we speak. Come. Let us speak and eat together. Then ye can return to Fiona.”

Alastair clenched his eyes shut realizing his brother was correct. He owed him that much. When he opened them, he bent and brushed a kiss along Fiona’s forehead. “Rest and heal, my bonny
leannan
, for I have much to tell ye when ye wake.”

Walking over to the door, he took one last look over his shoulder. “Watch over her, Merlin.”

“Och, he is a fine guard.” Matilda smiled giving the dog a pat on the head.

They walked in silence through the corridors, and Alastair frowned when Duncan took a sudden turn leading upward. “Not to the kitchens?”

“I thought it best if we talk in private without the presence of the others,” Duncan replied as he made his way into his chambers.

“Brigid?”

“And my wife, Aileen,” added Stephen moving away from the hearth. He handed Alastair a mug. “Sorry, no mead. ’Tis only wine.