The MacGregor (21 page)

Megan had never shared this with anyone before. She looked to Sean and dived into the deep blue ocean of his eyes and, for the first time, she could almost believe that it was true.

Sean was rocked. Every time he seemed about to catch up with events, something else cropped up. This time an ancient fort that had belonged to a people who'd been the ancestors of Gods.

Funny thing was, he didn't doubt a word of it. The truth shone out of Megan's whisky eyes. And why would she make such a thing up, anyway? She was, after all, a werewolf. How curious that the Campbells, who she hated with a passion, were actually blood relatives of a sort. Strange. But then, everything was bloody strange. He sagged back in his chair.

Megan leaned towards him. ‘What did you mean, you know, that stuff about feet and…a foot?'

Sean had forgotten that Megan didn't know. He pulled himself together and tried to pick up all the threads of what felt like a complicated weave of fabric. He looked at Lydia. ‘Perhaps you would be best placed to explain.' He laughed. ‘I'm not sure if I've got my head around it all myself.'

Lydia nodded gravely. ‘Of course. Megan, you know we are witches?'

Megan nodded.

‘Well, our history is bound with your own. We too can trace our lineage back to the beginning. We are the descendants of the Druids. And, it is said, a few are the sons and daughters of not just Amergin, but of Wicca herself. Merlin was one such son.' She paused and looked at Sean. ‘And so are you.'

Sean shook his head. ‘But Merlin's a myth!'

Megan butted in. ‘That's what you are meant to believe. I know for a fact that our story has been deliberately written as myth, to keep it secret. There is a Mythmaker whose job it has been through time to create these stories.'

Nancy looked surprised. ‘I've never heard that, although it makes sense.'

Sean was glad someone had a grasp on reality. Was it possible he was a descendant of Merlin? It was just too much to take in. And besides, there were more pressing issues.

He turned to Megan. ‘We know that the vampyres believe that on this property there lies the key to a powerful weapon. It's why Ginny has been here. She's been trying to find out where it is.'

Megan was silent, her eyes moving around the table. He could sense her unease. ‘Do you know where it is?' she said finally.

Sean nodded. ‘Yes. It's a quilt on which the message you heard was written. I lie at the feet of a foot. It's upstairs on Sarah's bed.'

‘Can I see?'

Sean nodded and led Megan up the stairs and into the bedroom.

Megan stared at the quilt. She looked at it for a long while. ‘I have never seen the Olde language written before.' There was a hint of reverential awe in her voice.

‘Do you speak the Olde language, Megan?'

‘A little. Like the song of the trees that you heard. The one that gentles the horses. And a few words. Grandad speaks it better, as does Rory Wallace.'

‘Rory Wallace.'

‘The horseman with the travellers.'

And, of course, it made perfect sense.

Megan sat down on the edge of the bed and looked up at him. A small smile played around her lips. Her eyes glinted with mischief. She reached out and took his hand. ‘He wants to marry me, does Rory Wallace.'

Sean was momentarily speechless. Marry Megan? What a bloody nerve!

Megan patted herself on the back for a job well done. Sean's face was a picture. A delightful mixture of outrage, disbelief and a large lick of possessive jealousy. Brilliant.

She jumped off the bed and slid past him but his hand snaked out and caught her around the waist. She did not even pretend to resist.

His eyes narrowed as he observed her closely. ‘Are you going to marry him then?'

She shrugged. ‘I might. Unless I get a better offer.'

‘You're too young to be married.'

She reared back in indignation. ‘I think that's for me to decide.'

He closed his eyes and sighed. ‘I'm sorry. You're absolutely right.'

Megan chuckled to herself. ‘That's all right. I forgive you.' She waited, hoping he'd open the subject up. But she was disappointed. Still, the seed had been planted. Time should do the trick. But she felt a stirring of angst. Time was running out. Fast.

He pulled her close and, secure in his arms, she allowed herself to relax. He felt good against her. She could feel his heart accelerate as he responded to her heat. His arms tightened and he pulled her hard against him. He smelled good. Horses, hay and Sean. She tilted her head to allow his questing lips to find hers.

Finally he let her go. ‘Better go back down. The others will wonder what we're up to.'

Back downstairs they found Nancy and Lydia tidying up the kitchen. They joined Megan and Sean at the table.

Sean sighed. It was the sound of a man quite worn out. Megan tried to feel bad about exploiting him when he was so vulnerable. But failed miserably. Sometimes one just had to prioritise. Besides, joining with her was the best thing for him. He just didn't know it yet.

‘So, what's next?' he said.

Nancy glanced at Lydia who nodded. ‘We've just been discussing that exact thing. While we know that the answers lie on or around Dunadd fort, we think it would be wise to wait until you have a handle on your magical powers before we explore this any further.'

Megan was all ears. Magic! Sweet!

Sean looked anxious. ‘I agree. But I just don't have a clue.' He stopped and looked at the two witches. ‘How do you two control your magic?'

‘Well,' said Nancy, ‘we use a combination of potions, spells and incantations.'

Megan couldn't help herself. ‘Do you have a wand?'

Lydia laughed. ‘No. Wands aren't magic.'

Megan felt ripped off.

Lydia hadn't finished, however. ‘Wands are a channel though. A funnel. Perhaps tool is the better word.'

Sean leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with curiosity. ‘How so?'

Nancy stepped in. ‘Well, strong magic needs a cipher. A manageable outlet that the sorcerer can bend to his or her will. Traditionally wands were used because of the magical properties of trees. Wood is a wonderful conductor of magic. It's why it doesn't conduct electricity. Nature loves her balance!'

Sean looked disappointed. ‘Well, where can I get a wand?'

Lydia shook her head. ‘I don't know. The few I've seen have been family heirlooms, passed on to each generation. Crystal orbs are the same.'

‘Tarot cards work too,' said Lydia.

Megan was riveted. It occurred to her that if she knew the whereabouts of a wand she could nick one, no worries. She decided to keep this morsel to herself though; Sean was utterly boring on the subject.

Sean's fingers drummed impatiently on the table. Megan could hear the cogs of his mind turning. He sighed. ‘It's all incredibly interesting, but it doesn't help me much.'

The room was silent. Then Lydia stirred. ‘What about the acorn?'

Megan looked up. ‘What acorn?'

Sean answered her by digging around in his back pocket and carefully placing an acorn on the table.

Megan looked at it. It looked kind of ordinary.

‘I was given this acorn by an old oak tree in the wilds,' said Sean. ‘But I don't know what to do with it.'

Megan thought it was obvious. ‘Plant it,' she said.

Cordelia Campbell stood on the mountain and looked down into the valley below at Sean Duncan's house. Her mind writhed with humiliation. Rage ate at her belly like rust on iron. She was consumed with the idea of revenge. While she would honour her promise not to harm the lycan and the warlock she would find a way to break them.

She knew she had lost face in front of Callum. And it was unbearable. Sean Duncan had openly spurned her and made no secret of his preference for the lycan bitch. How was that possible when the pure blood of her race flowed through her veins, untainted and clean? The dog would pay. She just had to find a way.

Callum thought he had it all wrapped up. But it wasn't enough. She wouldn't be happy until she had blood on her hands. MacGregor blood.

She shivered and pulled her hood up. It started to drizzle with rain and soon she was wreathed in mist. But she did not move. She would wait. An opportunity would present itself.

While
she
might be bound by a promise, there was someone she knew well who wasn't. Someone who hated the lycan bitch at least as much as she did. Calix Campbell. It wouldn't take much to get him on side. Perhaps her charms would work on him where they had failed with Callum.

Her heart contracted with pain. Just thinking about him was like sticking a splinter into an open sore. It was what really rankled. The few hours she'd spent in the hunting lodge with Callum had been mind-blowing. But he had dismissed her like she was hired help and looked straight through her ever since. Like it had never happened.

But worse still, she found she desired him no less. Indeed, it was as if he'd lit a fire that only he could quench. And now he had witnessed the lycan best her in a fair fight, and Sean shrug her off like it was she who was unclean. It was unbearable.

Raindrops dripped off her hair and meandered down her face but she barely noticed. Her cunning mind was in overdrive. A plan shimmered invitingly. The more she probed it the better it felt.

Excitement gripped her. Was it possible?

If she pulled it off, then Callum would be forced to acknowledge her. He would finally recognise her brilliance and beauty. She stepped closer to the edge of the tor. Through eyes as keen as the eagles' she peered down at the farmyard. Her eyes lingered on the parked motorbike and the Mini. Perhaps there was a way.

Sean grinned. ‘You're a genius, Megan.' It was so obvious that he felt a fool. What else did you do with a seed? Except eat it, of course. He looked at Nancy and Lydia. ‘You don't think I should eat it, do you?' He felt slightly silly. It was a truly disgusting idea.

But neither Nancy nor Lydia seemed to think it was a stupid question.

Nancy frowned. ‘Mmm. Not sure. I tend to go with Megan's suggestion.'

Lydia tutted softly. ‘I'm not sure. Trouble is, if you eat it and it's the wrong thing then we're in trouble.'

Sean grimaced. ‘Is it poisonous?'

Lydia shrugged. ‘Probably not.'

Probably did not sound reassuring.

‘OK,' said Nancy. ‘How about this for a plan? Plant the acorn and see what happens. If it fails, then you eat it.'

Sean grudgingly agreed and wholeheartedly hoped it didn't come to that. He had a disturbing vision of himself walking around with a tree growing out of his butt. These days nothing seemed impossible.

He thought about the recent confrontation with the Campbells. It had been an eye-opener on many levels. He'd witnessed for himself Megan's other side. Of course he'd been privy to her secret, but nothing like that. To actually witness the enormity of her power had been a revelation. And she had attacked Ginny not for her own sake but for a slight against himself. While this flooded him with love for her it also made him afraid. Afraid of what she may do next for his sake. It felt like an enormous responsibility. The fact that Megan was entirely her own person did not help. He could no more control her than he could catch smoke in his hands.

He realised that she was watching him and he smiled. He was in too deep to even try to get out. Even if he had wanted to. Besides, it seemed he had a few issues of his own. He could no longer trust himself. The storm he'd unleashed had scared him. To say nothing of the Campbells. He believed the Olde stories. But he wasn't sure he wanted to be the next Merlin. He was a wanderer, a horse whisperer and a reluctant warlock. He'd never sought to control and didn't relish the prospect now.

He took Megan's hand and ran a finger down her lifeline. Which was very long. ‘How old is your grandfather?'

‘About seven hundred. Give or take.'

He was not the only one to stare in astonishment at Megan. ‘Seven hundred!' He was horrified. ‘But when you're seven hundred I'll be —'

Megan grinned. ‘Bald? Shrunken? Senile?'

He shook his head. ‘Dead.'

Nancy laughed. ‘Sean, you are not a mortal. You may not make seven hundred years, but I think you'll manage more than three score and ten.'

Sean stared at her. ‘Of course I'm mortal.'

Lydia shook her head. ‘No, you're not Sean. How can you still believe that after what just happened?'

Sean was perplexed. He squeezed Megan's hand and she squeezed it back. He winced. Man, she was strong!

The phone rang and they all jumped. Sean got up and answered it, half expecting an enraged Callum on the other end. But it wasn't Callum. He listened silently to the man. ‘I see,' he said. ‘Well, I'll be seeing you later.' He put the phone down and his stomach felt like it was full of stones.

He turned to his expectant audience. ‘That was Edward Phelps. He owns two of the horses in the yard. He's coming to get them this afternoon. Callum and Ginny have been busy.'

The phone rang again. Sean eyed it warily. When he picked it up he sighed. He listened. ‘OK, Kimberley, I'll see you later.' He put the receiver down quietly.

‘Well?' said Megan.

‘Kimberley Wells,' he said. ‘Owns a promising grey mare. She'll be gone by tonight.'

Megan's amber eyes flared. Sean felt a flicker of unease. But she got up and wrapped her arms around him. ‘I'm so sorry, Sean. This is all my fault.'

He pushed her away a little and looked down at her. ‘No, it's not, Megan. Don't worry. I'll be fine.' But he was lying.

There was one more call. Pippa Sharp. Her horse would be gone by the next morning. Megan listened as Sean politely said goodbye and her heart bled for him. And she seethed. The Campbells were going to pay. She knew what their game was. They were trying to starve Sean out of the place. Send him broke and force a sale. He was effectively under siege.