Dangerous Highlander

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Cara wanted to stay in Lucan’s arms forever. It didn’t bother her that night was approaching. As long as she was with Lucan she was safe. But with the way he kept glancing at the sun, she knew their time had come to an end.

She sat up and looked down at his luscious, hard body and wanted to explore him to her heart’s content. Next time, and she was sure there would be a next time, she was going to run her hands all over him.

He smiled at her, unabashed in his nudity. She glanced at his flaccid rod, amazed at how it had felt in her hands. She supposed she should be embarrassed about her own nakedness, but she liked how he looked at her. The stark hunger in his eyes made her stomach flutter.

“I need to get you cleaned up,” he said as he rose in one fluid motion to his feet.

Cara saw her virgin’s blood on him. A glance between her legs showed a few spots of blood had gotten on her gown. The ripping of material drew her gaze to him. Lucan had torn his tunic in half and knelt between her legs.

“I’d wet it if there was water.”

She shrugged and reached for the material. “It’s no matter.”

He held it away from her. “Lay back. I’ll clean you.”

She nodded and leaned back on her elbows. His hands were gentle as he cleaned off her blood and his seed from between her thighs. Only once she was clean did he wipe himself. He buried the tunic some distance away and returned to her standing in profile as he pulled on his breeches and boots.

Cara couldn’t take her eyes off him. He was a glorious specimen, a Highlander in every sense of the word. He fit into nature as well as any animal, and the danger that surrounded him only added to his allure.

He was a man every mother would warn her daughter about. But he was a man whom every daughter would want for her own.

Lucan turned his head to Cara and raised a brow. “Something wrong?”

She ran her gaze down his lean buttocks and powerful legs. For a man chiseled in perfection, he was amazingly gentle with her.

Cara licked her lips. “Everything is just right.”

“Need some help getting dressed?” His eyes darkened with desire.

If she didn’t dress now, they would never leave, and she knew how much Lucan wanted to return to the castle. She shook her head and reached for a stocking. “Not this time.”

Lucan leaned against a tree, his arms crossed over his chest, watching her when she turned around from dressing. “Women wear too many clothes.”

“I could say the same as you. Highlanders now wear kilts.”

He shrugged one shoulder. “I might have to get one. It would make it easier to get to you when I wanted to make love.”

A warm heat stole over her body. “So you will take me again?”

“I will take you many times, Cara. I may have fought what was between us, but know this: you are mine.”

When he held out his hand, she took it, accepting whatever the future held for her. “And you are mine,” she said when she pulled even with him.

He nodded. “Aye.”

They walked through the woods in a companionable silence. That morning Cara had thought everything lost to her, and now she had it all. Well, almost, if Deirdre would stop looking for her.

“We found another Warrior,” she said.

“Maybe.”

“I understand why you don’t trust people, Lucan, but I feel that he’s telling the truth.”

“Maybe,” Lucan said again.

She rolled her eyes. Night was approaching quickly, and as they reached the edge of the forest, Cara found she was anxious to get back to the castle.

Suddenly Lucan stopped, his arm drawing her to a halt. Cara stilled and listened.

“What is it?” she whispered.

Lucan shook his head to quiet her. Then she saw movement in the shadow of a tree and Galen stepped into their path. She felt Lucan’s nails growing as she clung to his hand.

“What do you want, Shaw?” Lucan demanded.

But Galen’s eyes were riveted on her. “You wear it for all the world to see?” he asked, his voice low and angry.

Lucan shoved her behind him. “What are you talking about?”

Galen pointed to her. “The vial. The Demon’s Kiss. It should be hidden.”

Cara glanced down to find her mother’s necklace was indeed outside her gown. “I usually keep it hidden, but only because people thought it odd.”

“Where did you get it?” Galen demanded.

“None of your damned concern,” Lucan growled.

Cara, however, realized Galen might know about the vial. She stepped around Lucan. “From my mother when I was just a child.”

“The wyrran killed her, didn’t they?” Galen asked.

She nodded. “My parents hid me, which was the only reason I escaped.”

“Do you know what it is you hold, what you are?”

“Nay.”

“Cara,” Lucan warned.

She looked at Lucan and touched his arm. “I’ve wanted to know what this necklace was for as long as I can remember. I no longer have my mother to tell me. Would you deny me the information if Galen has it?”

Lucan sighed and shook his head. “Of course not.”

She turned to Galen. “What is this necklace?”

“That blood you carry is from a drough.”

Cara recalled how Lucan had told her there were two sects of Druids, the mie, or good Druids, and the drough, or evil Druids. “My family was good and decent. They weren’t evil.”

Lucan’s arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her against his side. “Go on,” he told Galen.

“The blood ritual is a ceremony every drough performs on their eighteenth year. The bloodletting is supposed to open them up to receive black magic.”

“Nay,” Cara said. “My parents were good people.”

“Did you move around often?” Galen asked.

She opened her mouth to deny it when a memory of them walking into the cottage surfaced. How pleased her father had been, and how her mother had said they hoped they could stay longer than the last village.

“You did, didn’t you?”

She nodded to Galen, her chest tightening. “Why did we move so often?”

“Because of Deirdre,” Lucan answered.

Galen gave a curt nod. “Deirdre has been gathering up every Druid, mie or drough, she can find. She kills them for more power. The drough pose a threat to her magic, and it is said that some mie know how to bind the gods.”

She glanced at Lucan to see if he had heard Galen. Lucan’s gaze touched her, wariness filling his gaze. If a mie could bind the god inside Lucan, Cara would find a mie for him.

Cara touched the vial. “A Warrior said Deirdre wanted the blood. Why?”

“A drough’s blood holds great magic, especially to the one who either spills the blood or captures it.” Galen’s gaze narrowed as if something just dawned on him. “You’re what Deirdre is looking for.”

She glanced at Lucan. “I am.”

“Then you’re going to need as many Warriors as you can find, MacLeod. Deirdre wants your woman more than she wants any Warrior.”

“Why?” Lucan asked.

“The power of Cara’s blood mixed with her mother’s is heady for one such as Deirdre to ignore. The jolt of power she would get would be immense. It is rare indeed to find a Druid with her mother’s drough blood around her neck.”

Cara pulled the necklace over her head. “Then I will pour out my mother’s blood.”

“Nay,” Galen said, and held out a hand to stop her. “Don’t.”

“What aren’t you telling us?” Lucan demanded. “The droughs were evil. They would be a benefit to Deirdre, and since blood is let as a ritual, it would be easy for Deirdre to gain their blood. Why kill them when she could have them on her side?”

Galen sighed and ran a hand down his face. “Deirdre is a drough. She has kept herself alive using her brethren’s blood for over five hundred years. Each time she kills a drough and gains their blood, she grows stronger. She wants no drough around that might usurp her power.”

Lucan cursed long and low.

“Your woman needs to be kept away from Deirdre at all costs. She must keep the vial safe as well, for she may need her mother’s blood one day.”

“I’m seeing to that,” Lucan said.

Galen leaned his shoulder against a tree. “Cara could fight Deirdre with her magic.”

“I know nothing of the Druids and their ways,” Cara said with a shake of her head. “I didn’t even know what a drough was until Lucan told me. I have no magic.”

“Not true,” Galen said. “Every descendent of the Druids has magic. The mie turn to nature for theirs. The drough take their own blood, thereby sacrificing a part of themselves to evil. Once that is done, the black magic takes over.”

She put her hand on Lucan’s chest. “I don’t want to use black magic.”

“You willna have to,” he promised her. “We’ll find a way.”

When they looked up, Galen was gone. “You’re going to need more than your brothers, MacLeod,” Galen’s voice echoed in the trees.

“He moves like the wind,” Cara said.

“Come,” Lucan said, and took her hand. “We need to get back to the castle.”

She gathered her skirts in one hand while Lucan held her other and they ran. He slowed his pace so she could keep up, but she was no match for his strength. Night soon blanketed the land. When she could go no farther, Lucan lifted her in his arms without breaking stride and kept running.

Cara laid her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes as her mind ran over everything Galen had told her. She didn’t want to believe her mother had practiced black magic. There had been too much laughter, too much good, in Cara’s life for her to believe her parents had been evil.

But the vial of her mother’s blood around Cara’s neck spoke otherwise. How she wished her mother were there so she could ask.

“We’ll get through this,” Lucan said.

She nodded, unable to reply. His words were meant to comfort and reassure, but she knew the truth of the situation, and it would take more than promises to keep her alive.