Highlander the Dark Dragon (9 page)

“You are right about that, but I am her husband now and will carry the burdens,” Rhys said.

“I doubt she will let you carry them alone, no matter what you command.”

“Enough about my wife, did you know that Rab and McDolan are not far from the Macinnes keep?”

Ewan shook his head. “I did not. Macinnes will not be happy with this news and I do not see Patience agreeing to surrender Saundra to her husband. I myself would not want to. Rab means to see her dead.”

“So I learned. I think little matters to McDolan and McLaud except their unquenchable hunger for power. Greer will not tolerate that his brother’s marriage to Patience and mine to Heather align Hunter more closely with the Dark Dragon than with Greer himself. And no doubt Hew McDolan will be disappointed as well, for Greer and his plans would be for naught.”

“That could prove dangerous, for I do not see either man accepting defeat easily. Greer planned the immediate demise of Hunter after he wed Patience and he intended to blame it on the Clan Macinnes. When that did not work, his wife’s dead body was found on Macinnes land. And no doubt he intends to ask me, the Dark Dragon’s uncle, for your help in his revenge on the Macinnes for supposedly killing his wife. When he learns that that is no longer possible, I do not know what he will do, but he will do something.”

“I hope he does. It will give me a good reason to take his life and be done with him.”

Heather decided to see if she could find Belle. She had been born here and yet she was wed to one of the ghost warriors. When and how that came about Heather was curious to find out. She also wondered if Belle knew of the whereabouts of the older clan members that had mysteriously disappeared.

She found Belle in her garden, pulling weeds and stopped her from getting to her feet. “No, please stay as you are, I do not wish to disturb you. I know how weeds thrive after a rainstorm, sprouting up everywhere.”

Belle sat back on her legs, smiling. “You are much like your mum from what my mum told me about Lady Enis. My mum felt like she lost a friend when your mum passed. I wish my mum was still around so you could talk with her. She has passed three years now.”

“I am sorry to hear that.”

“My mum told me just before she died that she had been lucky. She had a good husband, a good daughter, a good clan and a good life. She had no complaints even when there were times she could have complained, she never did. I still miss her.”

“I miss never having known my mum,” Heather said and not wanting to linger in talk that only brought heartache, she asked one of the questions that had her curious. “Many changes have taken place here and there are many new faces. Where have the elders of the Clan McComb gone?”

“I imagine most have died, for there were few that I knew when I returned here. My da saw how the clan was declining many years ago and wisely moved us away. I met Henry when he passed through our village.” She laughed. “He kept returning after that and we were wed. Unfortunately, I must be like my mum, struggling to conceive a child, though I hold out hope that I may still have one as my mum had me when she was older.”

“A babe comes in its own good time,” Heather encouraged.

“That is what my mum told me.”

“How long have you and Henry been married?”

“Ten years now,” Belle said with a smile.

“I am curious, Belle,” Heather said, lowering her voice. “Was Henry a ghost warrior when you wed him?”

“Henry is a warrior no more, no less and you will hear the same from all the other wives.”

Heather understood without actually being told that the ghost warriors would never be acknowledged by their wives as such, and she had a strong suspicion that it was a rule of the Dragon’s that made it so.

“How is Henry’s wound?” Heather asked. Belle smiled wide and Heather sensed she was relieved at the change of subject.

“I changed the bandage this morning, with much protesting from Henry, but I think he was relieved to see how well it looked. He drinks the brew you showed me how to make and though he will not admit it, he has grown partial to the taste. Though, it might be that the pain subsides some afterwards.”

“I am glad to know he is doing well. Will you and Henry remain here when the Dragon takes his leave?”

“I am not sure, but either way I do not mind as long as Henry and I are together. I have fond memories of this place and it would not trouble me to remain here, but the Dragon’s home is beautiful, the village lovely, and I do so love it there. But either place is home for Henry and me.”

Heather and Belle talked a few minutes more, and then Heather took her leave. She stopped to see how Douglas was doing and was pleased to see that his wound looked good and that his fever had not returned.

She continued walking through the village, not sure what to do with herself. This would not be her permanent home, so she was not certain as to her duties here, and she certainly was not accustomed to being idle. She wished she could walk in the woods. She had done that often at home, sometimes to gather plants or wildflowers and other times it was simply to enjoy the solitary time it brought her.

Her eye caught a young lad busy polishing Rhys’ helmet and she walked over to him.

He rose quickly, grasping the helmet in one hand as he did and gave her a respectful bob of his head.

“Please sit and continue your chore,” Heather said. “You are charged with keeping the Dragon’s helmet fit for him?”

“Aye, my lady. I polish it every day,” the lad said with pride.

“And a fine job you do,” Heather praised.

The lad smiled. “Thank you, my lady.”

“Roy!”

The lad jumped up. “Pardon me, my lady, my da calls.”

“Hurry then, you do not want to keep him waiting.”

The lad bobbed his head again and ran off after placing the helmet on the bench where he had been sitting.

Heather’s glance fell on the helmet and the odd symbols etched into the metal. She reached down and picked up the helmet. Holding it in one hand, she traced the unfamiliar symbols with her finger.

“Be careful, my lady, those symbols are evil.”

Heather turned and stared a moment at the old man, stooped with age and leaning on a worn walking stick. He looked familiar and she smiled, recognizing him. “Seamus, is it not? I tended your arm injury a few years ago when I was here with my father.”

“Aye, you did Lady Heather, and grateful I am for it. So I return the favor when I tell you those symbols are evil and better left alone.” He hobbled forward, relying heavily on his walking stick, reached out, and slipped the helmet from her hand, then placed it on the bench.

“Why do you say they are evil?”

He stared at her as if he was not quite sure if he should speak or not.

Heather placed her hand on his arm. “I am a friend, Seamus.”

He kept his voice low. “Evil protects evil. Those are witches’ symbols and they protect the Dragon. The village looks better than it has in a long time. Cottages are being repaired and fields replenished along with the villager folk.” His voice sunk to a whisper. “But the old people are disappearing and no one says a word.” He looked around to see if anyone lingered nearby, then said, “One night I could not sleep. I heard a strange noise and peeked outside. I saw Harold and his wife Bethany being placed in a cart and carried away, never to be seen again.” Seamus shook his head. “There is talk that the Dragon disposes of those who are no longer useful to him, just as he did to Glynnis.”

Before Heather could inquire about Glynnis, Seamus’s daughter called out for him.

“My Alaina keeps an eye on me. She will not admit it, but she fears me being carted off one night, never to see me again. I am old and nearly crippled and of no use to the Dragon. You be careful, my lady, do not become useless to the Dragon or you too will disappear.”

She watched him shuffle off, leaning heavily on his walking stick. She did not believe her husband evil, though her sensible side warned that two days’ time was not enough to truly know someone. Why then did she feel so strongly that evil did not reside in her husband? Her husband did, however, seem to be a man shrouded in mysteries and she was curious to solve them for her own peace of mind.

Roy returned and she left him to finish his chore.

Heather headed to the keep with thought of asking Nessa if she knew about Glynnis and what had happened to her. Her husband was bidding his uncle good-bye as she approached and she gave Ewan a wave as he rode by her.

Her husband walked down the steps to meet her and stretched out his hand. “Time for us to talk.” One look at her soft pink lips and his thoughts were not on talking.

Eager to speak with him, Heather hurried to take his hand, though once he took hold of it, a gentle tingle rippled through her. And for an instant something warned her to never let go.

Rhys settled Heather in a chair in his solar and before he could say a word Heather spoke.

“I am curious about something,” she said.

“Only one thing?” he asked.

Was that a slight smile she saw? Her own smile brightened at the thought that there was hope in getting the Dragon to smile. “One thing for now.”

“Have your say, for there is much I have to say to you.”

Heather did not let his chastising tone bother her. She continued on, though her heart thumped a bit harder as she asked, “Where have all the McCombs gone? I recognize so few faces.”

“Who has been whispering in your ear?”

His curt response sent her heart thumping even harder. “What do you mean?”

He took a step closer to her. “Did you not say you wished for us to always be truthful with each other?”

She nodded.

“Then say what you will and be done with it.”

He sounded as if it was an order, so this time she decided to obey him. “Why are the older McComb people disappearing?”

He took another step closer and leaned over her, planting his hands on the arms of her chair. “That is not your concern.”

Was it her curiosity or foolishness that had her pursuing it? “It is everyone’s concern when clan members vanish without explanation.”

“How many times must I tell you that I rule here? My word is law. I need not explain myself to anyone. Your duty as my wife is to obey, without question. And that is what I expect you to do.”

She inched forward in her seat, her heart racing wildly now as she brought her face closer to his. She could not pull her gaze from his dark eyes, for they seemed to invite her in. But the question was—what would she find there? And once there would she be lost forever?

She spoke softly in almost a whisper as she said, “Is that what you truly want, a meek wife who never questions. A wife with no thoughts of her own?”

Her breath was soft and sweet as it drifted across his lips like a faint kiss and the thought came fast and furious.
Kiss her
. Difficult as it was, he ignored the urge. “I want an obedient wife who will not anger me at every turn.”

It struck her then like a great weight that surely had to be weighing him down, and she rested her hand to his cheek as she said, “What is it you fear?”

He stepped back quickly as if he had been struck. “I fear nothing.”

She stood. “I do not believe you. You reminded me about speaking the truth, now I ask the same of you.”

Rhys reached out, grabbing her by the shoulders. “Fear was beaten out of me a long time ago as was faith. Power is what matters. It controls. It rules. It is obeyed.”

“Love matters more,” Heather said and was shocked to hear him laugh, though it was no humorous laugh.

“You are foolish if you believe that. People do not follow and obey powerful Kings and Rulers or warriors out of love, they follow out of fear, they submit out of fear.”

“So you would rather I fear you than love you?”

“Love?” he said on a laugh that rumbled deep in his chest. “You truly believe that you could love me?”

“Why not?”

“You will find out soon enough,” he said and released her, turning away.

“Why is everything a mystery with you? What do you hide? What do you fear?”

Rhys swerved around. “I hide what is necessary and did I not make it clear that I fear nothing? Enough of this nonsense,” he ordered with a wave of his hand. “There are other more important matters to discuss.”

“There can be no matter more important than that of your wife one day possibly falling in love with you.”

Rhys stepped closer to her. “I would prefer your obedience to love.”

“I cannot promise you either one, but I believe one would be much easier than the other for me to give you.”

Her voice was gentle, her words heartfelt, and her lips inviting.

Kiss her.

This time he did not ignore the urging. His arm hurried around her waist to pull her close and his lips settled eagerly on hers.

Heather let herself be swallowed not only by his powerful arms, but his kiss as well. She had been waiting for him to kiss her, wanted him to kiss her and did not waste time wondering over why she enjoyed his kisses. She simply allowed herself to do so, for in his kiss was a mystery she intended to solve.

He commanded well with words, but more so with his lips and she had no trouble obeying what he demanded of her, for she demanded of him as well. And the deeper the kiss delved the more she sensed she drew closer to uncovering the mystery.

When he tore his mouth away from hers, she felt as if he took her breath with him and she gasped momentarily for air.

Rhys lowered her to the chair and poured her some wine, handing her the goblet. “Drink.”

She did not argue. She sipped at it as her breathing began to slowly return and the pleasurable tingle that had settled over her had begun to fade. She looked up at him at a loss for words.

“Drink,” he ordered again, though this time with firmness that warned of any protest.

It was not his demand that had her taking another sip. She took it because it helped calm her, for calmness was her only shield in dealing with the fiery Dragon.

Rhys paced in front of her.
Love.
It had been foolish of her to have mentioned it and he let her know it. He stopped abruptly and pointed a finger at her. “There will be no more talk of love.” With that he stormed out the room.

Heather jumped when the door slammed shut behind him. She took another sip of wine, wondering how she was ever going to manage being wed to the Dragon. She sat enjoying the solitude and quiet, and the wine.

Feeling quite calm after finishing the wine, she planned to go in search of Nessa in hope of finding out about Glynnis and hoping the answer would not disturb her.

The door opened abruptly and Rhys walked in. Shoving the door shut behind him, he walked over to her with a look on his face that for a moment frightened Heather. She was not sure if it was anger or passion she saw there. She took several anxious steps away from him, but he quickened his step and his arm shot out, coiling around her waist, yanking her forward, and slamming her against his hard chest.

“You want to see the beast you truly married?” he said, though did not give her a chance to respond. His mouth came down on hers so harshly that it stole her breath.