Forbidden Highlander (5 page)

Fallon turned to find the man who had been in the garden with Larena. He cursed himself for being so engrossed in a woman that he hadn’t heard someone approach.

The man gave him a friendly smile. “I’m Malcolm Monroe.”

“The lady’s brother. Shouldn’t you help her?”

Malcolm folded his arms over his chest. “She can handle herself or I would ensure the man might never have children.”

Fallon watched the tall, blond Highlander. There was something very amiable about him. Maybe it was his blue eyes that seemed so honest and open, much like Quinn’s had been when he’d been a lad. Time and Deirdre had changed that.

“There is much you do not know, Fallon MacLeod.”

Fallon raised a brow at Malcolm. “You know me?”

“You’re new to Edinburgh Castle. Everyone knows you.”

“And why I’m here?”

Malcolm shrugged indifferently. “Gossip does travel swiftly.”

“So what is it I don’t know?” Fallon asked. He turned to face Malcolm fully. His first instinct about the man was that he liked him, but appearances could be deceiving.

Larena’s brother was just an inch or so shorter than Fallon, but his wide shoulders and thick chest told Fallon he wasn’t a dandy, but a Highlander who was used to hard work.

The smile dropped from Malcolm’s face. “Larena isn’t the woman people think she is. The castle gossips. Men hunger for things they cannot have. Women, in their vindictiveness, spread rumors that aren’t true.”

“That is true enough.”

“Larena needs to talk to you. She doesna seek men out, MacLeod, they come to her. If she tells you she has something to discuss with you, then I would listen to what she has to say.”

“Do you know what she wants to talk to me about?”

Malcolm shrugged again. “It isn’t for me to say. All I ask is that you doona judge her. We all wear guises in some fashion.” He bowed and started to turn when he paused. “I’ve heard that Iver sent a missive to the king. If you’ve pinned your hopes on Iver’s helping you, you chose the wrong noble. King James tends to ignore Iver, as most of us do. I do know someone, however, that the king will listen to.”

Fallon wasn’t fooled for a moment. “I told Iver not to send the missive, but apparently the idiot doesna listen well. Tell me why the king would listen to you?”

“A fair question,” Malcolm said with a smile. “My family, the Monroes, are in good standing with the king. I’ve traveled to London twice to see him. He will listen to me.”

Fallon still didn’t like the idea of being beholden to anyone, but he didn’t want to fail his brothers again. He had been charged with getting the castle back in the hands of the MacLeods. He could either accept Malcolm’s help or travel to London himself and take that much longer to rescue Quinn.

There wasn’t really a choice. Still, it was difficult for Fallon. “And what do you want in exchange?”

“I would tell you I’m doing it because I want to, but you wouldn’t believe me. So I ask that you listen to Larena. That’s all you have to do. Just listen to her.”

Fallon watched him walk away. People weren’t kind for no reason at the castle of the king. They were all out for themselves. They would do you a favor if you could do one in return. Was it worth it to listen to Larena?

When he turned back, Larena was also gone. Fallon ran a hand down his face. He was so tired. And damned thirsty for wine. He held his hand in front of his face and cursed when he saw it shake.

He spun on his heel and stalked to his chamber. He was fidgety, anxious. He wanted to sit atop his castle and let his god loose. He wanted to look out over his sea and watch the waves roll in the dark water. He wanted the comfort of his hall and the calm of home. He wanted his brothers.

Fallon eased his door shut behind him. No candles flickered in greeting. He preferred it this way. It reminded him of what he had left behind on the coast.

He barred the door and froze as he realized someone was in the chamber with him. He reached out, his hand wrapping around a thin wrist.

Fallon pulled the intruder out of the shadows and into the light of the moon from his window. He lengthened one of his claws and put it in his assailant’s side as he pinned a wrist to the door. His eyes widened when he saw he had none other than Larena Monroe in his grasp.

The scent of lilies washed over him. He realized too late he had her against the door, his body pressed against hers. His gaze was riveted to her breasts that rose and fell rapidly, matching the beat of the pulse at her throat.

His anger vanished, replaced with something more primal, more urgent. His blood roared in his ears as desire surged through him. He could feel every inch of her soft body, and God help him, he wanted more. He fought for control, fought to release her and step back.

Then he heard something through the door. A sound distant and fleeting, but with his enhanced hearing he was able to catch it. He leaned his face toward the wood of the door and found his head next to Larena’s.

The sound was forgotten as the feel of her silky cheek rubbed against his. He turned his head and breathed in the scent of her hair. A silken strand touched his face, and before he knew what he was doing, he bent and licked her neck. His lips slid over her jaw and he heard the whoosh of air that passed through her mouth.

His balls tightened as blood rushed to his cock. He had to get away from her, to forget about sampling her lips and tasting her creamy skin. To forget the feel of her curves against his body and the way she fit against him perfectly. To forget the taste of her on his tongue and the scent of her that filled his nose.

But Fallon made a fatal mistake. He looked into her eyes.

Cairn Toul Mountain
Northern Highlands

Quinn tugged at the chains holding his wrists and ankles in the darkness of his prison. How long had he been in the mountain? A day? A month?
A year?

With every moment he was Deirdre’s captive he could feel himself slipping under the god’s control. His god, Apodatoo, the god of revenge, wanted complete power.

There had been a few weeks before Deirdre captured him when Quinn had been tempted to give the god that command. He had resisted. But then again, he’d had his brothers to help him, even though they hadn’t known what was going through his mind.

His brothers.

God, how he missed them. He missed Lucan’s easy smile that relaxed him, and Fallon’s intense gaze that gave him strength.

Lucan and Fallon had always been there for him, even when he hadn’t wanted them. Now, Quinn would chew off his own arm just to be with them again. To sit in their ruin of a castle and share a meal together.

Quinn had wanted to run away. It was what had gotten him caught, but looking back now, he realized that he hadn’t run from his brothers. He had been running from himself.

What a fool he’d been. What a fool he still was. Apodatoo had grown stronger every time Quinn couldn’t manage his rage. It wouldn’t be long before the god had him in his command. And that’s when the true hell would begin. For with the god’s control, then Deirdre would dominate him.

Quinn had no doubt his brothers would come for him, but he prayed it was before Apodatoo and Deirdre took control. If he fell, he knew in his heart, his brothers would follow. And Quinn couldn’t let that happen.

Lucan had just found Cara, and though she was mortal, they had a love that Quinn could only dream about. Then there was Fallon. He had stepped back from his drinking, and he had let his god out to save Cara.

The only one that hadn’t changed was him. Not that Quinn deserved a second chance at anything. He hadn’t been there to save his son and wife, and he had let his brothers down too many times.

Then fight your god!

It was much easier said than done. Yet, Quinn knew his very life rested on this.

The chains that held him were strengthened with magic, which prevented him from pulling loose, unlike the first time Deirdre chained him. Since he couldn’t get free, the only thing he could do was battle his god.

Quinn took a deep breath and fought to manage the anger that ripped through him. With each beat of his heart he concentrated on pushing his god down. After agonizing moments, he felt the god retreat. For the time being.

He blinked in the darkness. Deirdre hadn’t even left a candle for him, but then again he could see well enough in the dark not to need one. He didn’t need light to know his skin was no longer black, his claws and fangs had retreated, and his eyes were once more normal.

He had won against Apodatoo this time, but each time would be more difficult. And in his human form, it left him vulnerable to the attacks he knew were imminent.

Larena held her breath, waiting for Fallon to lean in and place his lips over hers. Her body shivered in anticipation as she gazed into his dark green eyes. She saw loneliness, but she also saw hunger in his depths.

And to her surprise, she felt her own hunger rise up within her. She desperately wanted Fallon to kiss her, wanted to know what his lips felt like.

Already her blood had heated and her heart raced with the feel of Fallon’s body against hers.

She forgot about hiding from Deirdre, she forgot about the Scroll she kept secreted away. All that mattered was the man who held her between his rock-hard body and the door.

Just as she thought she would get her kiss, he spun her away from him and jerked open the door.

Larena blinked at the empty space that Fallon hadjust occupied. She couldn’t believe he had left. She had felt so sure the passion was mutual between them.

Then the screams registered in her ears. She rushed to the doorway and leaned out. Something had panicked the entire castle.

She lifted her skirts in her hand and ran toward the shrieks. Halfway to the great hall she heard it—the unmistakable screech of a wyrran.

“Nay,” she whispered, and ran faster.

Why was a wyrran at the castle? Had Deirdre learned of her? Or was it here because of Fallon? None of it mattered at the moment. The only thing that did matter was killing the ugly creature.

When she reached the corridor that led to the great hall she had to push and shove her way through the crowd running from the hall. She heard someone shout her name and looked over to see Malcolm. His blue eyes held a wealth of worry, telling her without words that her worst fear had come to pass. Deirdre had found her.

Using the strength she usually hid, Larena shoved aside the people blocking her path and pushed into the great hall that was now devoid of people. She skidded to a halt when she found Fallon already there and facing off against the yellow-skinned wyrran as it clung to the upper wall near the ceiling.

She watched Fallon’s claws lengthen, their obsidian color shining in the candlelight. She waited for the rest of him to change. She wanted to know what he looked like as a Warrior, to see all of him as dark as his claws.

Instead, the wyrran raised its gaze to her and let out another ear-piercing screech. It leaped at her, but just when Larena was about to let her goddess out, Fallon caught hold of the creature’s leg.

“Get out!” he bellowed.

She gave a quick nod and hurried from the hall. But Fallon had another thing coming if he thought she wasn’t going to fight.

Fallon couldn’t believe there was a wyrran at the king’s castle. But more worrying than that was the fact Larena had followed him. Most women would have run upon hearing the screams. But not her.

He didn’t know whether he liked her courage, or wanted to shake her for putting her life in danger.

He thought he’d do both.

First, though, he needed to kill the wyrran, and he couldn’t take the chance of changing into his Warrior. The residents of the castle had already seen too much with the wyrran’s appearance. There would be no explaining away his black skin, fangs, and claws.

Fallon unsheathed the dagger he kept in his boot and tracked the small creature, praying that during the few moments Larena had been in the hall she hadn’t seen his claws.

The wyrran were diminutive, but the long claws on their hands and feet could tear a person in half. He hated looking at them with their thin, yellow skin. Their faces were hideous with a mouthful of sharp teeth that their lips could hardly fit over. And their large, round yellow eyes made his skin crawl.

“Did you come for me?” he taunted the creature.

The wyrran opened its mouth and issued a long shriek.

Fallon grimaced as his ears rang from the sound. “I really hate you little shites,” he murmured. “Come on and fight me!”

The wyrran jumped from the wall to the ground. The slight bastards could crawl on anything, in any direction. For the first time since he had let his god out to help save Cara, Fallon wanted to transform. He wanted to toss aside his dagger and use his claws to rip the wyrran in half.

The wyrran’s lips peeled back in what was supposed to be a smile, as if it knew what Fallon wanted.

“Can you read minds now?” Fallon asked as he jumped toward the wyrran. His dagger landed in the creature’s arm. Fallon ripped the blade down, scouring open the thin skin.

The wyrran’s claws raked down Fallon’s chest as it struggled to get free. Fallon ignored the pain and tried to hold on, but the wyrran’s diminutive, lean frame was hard to hold on to. Somehow, it jerked free of Fallon and the dagger and leaped to the wall.

It gave another screech before it bounded out of the great hall and into the castle through the door Larena had left open. Fallon’s only thought was of Larena. She would be defenseless against the wyrran.

Fallon rushed from the hall and into the empty corridor. When he was sure the wyrran and Larena weren’t there, he continued through the castle. The few people he saw quickly ran into chambers and slammed the doors. But he didn’t find the wyrran.

With a curse Fallon slid to a halt and returned to the great hall. The wyrran was fast, but he couldn’t outrun a Warrior.

Larena knew the wyrran would leave the hall. So she sat and waited. She wished she could watch Fallon battle the ugly creature, but she couldn’t chance it. The wyrran had to die.