Dragon Knight's Sword (7 page)

Standing outside Glasgow’s airport, she looked about as cars, buses, and people passed her by. She expected Archie to send her a text letting her know the name of his friend he was sending, but she hadn’t heard a word since she left the States.

For a brief moment, the doubts started to creep into her thoughts as to her purpose here in Scotland. It was still unclear. However, this invisible pull, somewhere deep, urged her to continue.

Mind and soul playing a tug-of-war dance.

Then Brigid saw him. He stood heads over everyone else, walking toward her. It was as if the masses of crowds parted for him. He looked like a Viking straight from medieval times. His hair was golden and fell in waves just to his broad shoulders. And oh, those eyes. All she could think of was she had never seen that color of blue before. They seem to sparkle. The air had a chill, but this man wore nothing more than a form fitting black tee and jeans, which were excessively tight.

He oozed raw masculinity and more.

Brigid shook her head, fearing the jet lag was making her vision blur. But when she opened them, there he was standing in front of her.

One of his eyebrows arched, and he spoke. “Brigid O’Neill, do you always stand with your mouth open?”

The Viking god spoke. Brigid took a step back to gaze up at him, almost colliding with a passerby, a blush spreading from her neck to her cheeks.

“Wh...
who
are you?” gasped Brigid.

One side of his mouth tilted upwards in a half smile, “Conn MacRoich, at your service, fair lady. Archie sent me to assist you.” His gaze traveled down to where she had been clutching the sword.

Brigid became aware of the shift in his eyes, as if he went from being someone entirely different, then back to his former self. It was just for a brief moment. She told herself it was probably the jetlag causing her vision to blur.

She shook her head and smiled wearily, “I’m sorry, I’m just tired, and I was not expecting someone like you.”

Conn, aka the Viking god, took the half smirk to a full-blown dazzling smile and crossed his arms across his chest.

“Come, lass, time to start your journey into Scotland. You’ll feel better away from the city.” Conn took her one bag and motioned for her to join him. Again, the crowds seem to part for him, and Brigid just stared in awe at her Viking.

“Oh, Archie, you truly did send a protector,” she whispered.

Conn led her to his jeep around the corner. Loading her bag in the back, he turned to her. “Perhaps you’d like to place your sword in the back, Brigid?”

“Yes, thanks, Conn,” but before she started to remove it from her shoulder, her head snapped up. “How did you know it was a sword?”

Conn did not answer her, and again his eyes shifted colors before he got into the driver’s side.

Brigid placed the sword in the backseat and scooted in beside Conn. Confusion now took first place over the jetlag.

“Seatbelt, lass,” Conn said, giving her a wink. He slapped a pair of shades on, looked over his shoulder, and took off.

“Conn,
how did you know
?”

“Archie told me you were bringing an ancient artifact with you, and since I’m an expert in swords, you might say I recognize a sword when I see one. Also, I recognized the markings on the leather pouch. You’ve got a special friend in Archie. It’s near to impossible for one to get into Scotland with an artifact without any questions.”

“Did he tell you about the legend, too?”

“Nae lass, I already know about the legend. It’s an ancient one, which the bards have been telling in my family for a thousand years.”

“Then do
you
believe in the legend, and that this sword is one of the Knight’s relics?” Brigid looked back at the sword, still so unfathomable to her that this could be one of their relics.

“Aye.”

“How can this sword be connected?”

He glanced at her. “It has the mark of the Order on the pouch, and I can read the ogham on it.”

She simply stared at him, again with her mouth open. Finally realizing it, she snapped it shut. “Not many can read the ancient language.”

“I’m curious, Brigid, why didn’t you take the sword to Archie?”

Sighing she looked away from him. “I really wanted to, but I was just so scared in the beginning. It all seemed so mysterious on its arrival, and I didn’t want Archie thinking I had just acquired another random piece for the store. Everything happened so quickly, that there wasn’t even a chance for him to see it. It all seems surreal.” Shaking her head, she turned to look out the window.

They were no longer on a main highway, but somehow he maneuvered them onto a back two-lane road, and the land rolled around them in waves of green. They had just passed Rannoch Moor and the beauty of it took her breath away. Sheep dotted the hills and every once in a while she would see a stone circle, whose ancient stones beckoned to her, reminding Brigid of a past which was alive with pagan beliefs.

The scenery captivated her as she found it difficult to continue to keep her eyes open. Just before she drifted off, she thought Conn mentioned something about the Grampian Mountains.

****

The tall dark figure stepped forth from the shadow of the trees, and she froze.

Her
warrior
had returned.

Raw masculinity poured off him, and her legs went weak. His stance was fierce, and his gaze at her spoke of lust and possession.

He was unlike any man she had seen before.

Brigid licked her lips, and watched as his eyes followed the movement. She was locked into eyes that were flared with desire.

“Who are you?” she asked breathlessly.

His eyebrow rose a fraction, as if sending the question back out to her.

“Ye ken who I am,” his husky burr low and seductive.

He moved slowly toward her, the heat from his body flooding her senses. She could hear lightning and thunder rumbling in the distance.

“Say it...say my
name,
” he murmured across her cheek, right before his lips devoured hers, and her world dissolved in a dizzying vortex of pleasure.

With a gasp, Brigid woke up.

Chapter 9

“Fair lass come to me in my dreams, for I shall be well again.”

Duncan awoke with a start, surveying his surroundings. It was still dark, but the air hummed with the approaching dawn.

The chill of the morning could not put out the fire which drummed through his veins and surged to his cock. The woman within his dream was like none he had ever seen. She was standing within the stones, a vision of light. The storm lashed about her, yet the elements did not touch her. She was tall, and wore clothing he had never seen, molding her body in luscious curves. Yet, it was the hair and those eyes—auburn hair that glittered like fire, and eyes the color of emeralds.

Her luminosity invaded his darkness, seeking to calm the demon beneath.

She had held out her hand to him, as if inviting him into her arms. He craved her with a primal need—to taste and devour. The desire was so intense the ground shook beneath him.

Just thinking of the dream made him place his hand over his cock and squeeze. Oh, how he lusted after her. It had been too long since he had a woman, and he needed his lust sated. If he concentrated on the vision from his dreams, he could come in a few strokes. His cock throbbed against the folds of his plaid.

“Nae,” he whispered. “There shall be no release, no pleasure.”

Throwing off his wrap, he stood and walked over to the clearing between the trees. Taking deep breaths, he squashed the feeling down deep. Running a hand through his ebony locks, he looked out at the night sky. It was only a dream, yet so powerful in its intensity.

Duncan could not remember the last time he even had a dream.

He needed to find the druid, and put an end to this madness. This was his quest. Emotions started to swirl again from the dream, and again, Duncan fought the lust that surged through him, taunting for the pleasure it would gain.

Turning aside, he went and grabbed his sword and made for a clearing he had seen earlier. Some training in the dark would harness his emotions and hone the other muscles.

There would be no more sleep, no more dreams tonight.

Chapter 10

“They say that a dragon’s bite is worse than the fire they breathe.”

Bolting upright, Brigid rubbed a hand across her face.

“You
a
ll right, lass?” Conn glanced at her sideways.

Hugging her arms tightly around her she replied, “Just a dream.”

Brigid was too embarrassed to look at Conn, focusing her eyes out to the mists, which had started to swirl around the hills. Her breathing labored, as she recalled the intensity of her vision. This was the second time her Highlander invaded her dreams—this one more powerful than the first.

It was so erotic, she felt damp in her jeans, causing her to blush even more. When her Highlander had turned toward her, he reminded her of a Celtic god, arousing such a passion that she felt crestfallen that it was only a dream. Never in all her life had she felt such desire.

Angus Og
, god of love came to her thoughts.

A nervous laugh escaped from her. “Land of myths and legends, right, Conn?”

“Aye, and they can be mighty powerful.” He nodded toward a place to their right. “Ancient ruins of long ago, though still powerful to this day.”

“Oh my...Conn,” gushed, Brigid. “Can we stop for a moment?” The need for fresh air and the ruins of a castle were the perfect excuse.

Conn pulled to the side of the road, finding a small path that would lead them closer. “The magic of the land always calls to those who can hear her.”

“I’ve only viewed Scotland in artifacts and books trying to capture this.” She waved her hand about. “The beauty here is surreal. The books don’t do it justice.”

He laughed. “No, I suppose they wouldn’t. One must
touch
the stones to get a sense of the past.”

Her eyes lit up. “Yes, exactly.”

Seeing a spot where he could park, he drove off the main part of the road.

She quickly stepped out and walked up the hill. The brisk, misty air invigorated Brigid as she climbed, each step taking her closer to the ruins.

They were magnificent, granted it was no longer habitable, but she could almost see what their former life had been like. The ruins spoke to her, beckoning her closer. She was in awe of their beauty with moss and wildflowers competing for space within the crevices and around the ground.

A rabbit skittered across and ran through a stone arch and she followed his path.

Upon entering, she gazed on what appeared to be a magical place. Sunlight glittered through the trees and onto the moss-covered stones, shimmering with a brilliance that astounded her. Carefully moving within the enclosure, she reached out to touch one of the walls. She was transported back to a time when survival upon the land and people were essential. Closing her eyes, she could almost hear the clang of swords and fragmented sounds of the people who lived among these walls. Laughter and song flittered across her senses, and she smiled.

Belonging filled Brigid’s spirit.

Slowly, she opened her eyes, breathing deeply. Often contemplating why she would feel displaced in her own country, heck, even her own time, brought back those questions. “What do I have in common with the people of the past?” she whispered.

Her dream invaded her thoughts, again.

“If only he really did exist. I’m in Scotland and already dreaming of tall, dark, and gorgeous looking men.” She snickered. “I was already dreaming of them back home.”

Laughing softly to herself, she noticed a stone lying near some heather. It was quite unlike the other small stones lying around the ground. Crouching low and being careful not to touch the thorny parts of the heather, she picked it up. Holding it in her palm, it felt smooth and its color reminded Brigid of obsidian glass. Raising it above her head, she tried to peer inside. “My first treasure on my quest.” Tucking the stone into her jacket, Brigid took another deep breath, and with reverence thanked the spirits for the gift, sending back thoughts of love.

“Is that a pebble you’ve found there?” asked Conn.

“Oh!” Brigid swung around so fast she tripped over a tree root. Trying to catch herself she landed in the arms of Conn, who had moved with incredible speed to break her fall. The contact with him made her skin tingle, as if he was charged with electricity. When she looked into his eyes, they did those strange shifting of colors she had seen earlier.

Conn released her gently backing away. “Come, lass.” He turned and started toward the car.

“Who the hell are you?” she muttered, following in his steps. Her mind spinning questions about this man. “Viking god, Celtic god? Get a grip, Bree.”

However, the only man who seemed to stir her was the one in her dreams.

****

It was midafternoon when they arrived at Rowan Cottage. Brigid said a mental thank you again to Archie for booking a room so quickly and near Urquhart Castle. The cottage was nestled among the evergreens. White washed on the outside, it looked so stark against the trees, with the front door painted a bold red. Smoke was coming from one of the chimneys, giving it a warm and inviting presence.

“Lovely,” Brigid smiled, turning to Conn. His eyes were not on the cottage but seemed to be looking at something beyond the trees. Turning back toward her, he only nodded in agreement then got out of the car to get her luggage.

They didn’t even get a chance to go through the door of the inn when a small, elderly woman came bustling out the front door. Her gray hair was woven in a braid, which fell down her back, and her white apron was covered in dust from flour, reminding her of a gnome. She grasped Brigid’s arms and gave her a fierce hug.

“Welcome to Rowan Cottage, Brigid O’Neill. I’m Kate Tooley. Hamish, my husband, is tending to the horses. You’ll get to meet him at supper.” Kate engulfed Brigid with a feeling of motherly love, and she found she was speechless. Looking over to Conn, she could see laughter dancing within his eyes.

Mrs. Tooley then went to embrace Conn who literally picked her up in a bear hug, twirling her around. In just the short time she had spent with Conn, she had thought him reserved, and yet here he was acting the child. Laughter came forth from both of them, and Brigid stood transfixed by the scene.