Untamed Highlander

FOURTEEN

Isla left the tower hours before dawn. She had rested as much as she could, but she refused to allow herself to fall into a deep sleep where the nightmares awaited her.

While she had sat in her new chamber, she had let her mind wander over memories of the bakery and her father’s favorite recipes.

It wasn’t long before she decided to see what the kitchens at MacLeod Castle offered. There was nothing else for her to do, and she needed something to occupy her time before she went daft thinking of the near kiss Hayden had given her.

To Isla’s surprise, she found all she needed to make her father’s delicious custard pastry. Isla was glad she was alone as she tried to find her way in the kitchen again. It had been ages since she had cooked or even been in a kitchen. It took her longer than she’d have liked to get her bearings, but once she did, everything came back to her in a rush as if she hadn’t spent five centuries away.

She was so immersed in her cooking she didn’t see the sun rise or notice when others joined her.

“It smells wonderful,” Marcail said as she moved to the opposite side of the large work table. “What are you baking?”

Isla glanced up and smiled. She ducked her head and rubbed her nose on her shoulder since her hands were covered in flour. “Custard pastries. They were my mother’s favorite.”

“I cannot wait to try one.”

Cara walked into the kitchen and inhaled. “The entire castle smells delicious. Who is responsible, and what are we going to eat?”

“It’s Isla,” Marcail said. “She’s baking custard pastries.”

Cara closed her eyes and groaned before licking her lips. “It’s been years since I’ve had a custard pastry. How long until they’re ready?”

Isla looked from one to the other, apprehension weighing like a stone in her stomach. What if the pastry didn’t taste good? She couldn’t bear to be embarrassed. “Soon,” she answered.

“What are you making now?” Marcail asked and leaned close to take a look.

“Pudding.”

Cara licked her lips. “I’m starving already. How long have you been down here?”

Isla shrugged and continued to stir the pudding in the bowl. “I don’t know. A while, I suppose.”

“Well before dawn,” said a deep, masculine voice. A voice that sent tingles of awareness through Isla to settle between her legs. A voice she was beginning to recognize all too clearly.

She raised her gaze to find Hayden standing in the doorway with Larena and Fallon. His black eyes watched her closely. Searching. Seeking. All Isla could think about was the feel of his hard body next to hers and how he had nearly kissed her.

“I couldn’t sleep. I decided to make myself useful.” Isla continued to mix the pudding and did her best to look away from Hayden.

“I have a feeling my stomach will thank you,” Fallon said. “But you needn’t have done all this.”

Isla didn’t bother to answer him. She kept her focus on the pudding and making sure she eliminated all the lumps so it would be as smooth as her father’s used to be.

The women began to gather items for the morning meal, their conversation filling the quiet. Isla didn’t need to look up to know Hayden and Fallon were still in the kitchen. Nor did she need to check to see if Hayden’s eyes were on her. She felt his hot gaze as surely as she felt the heat from the ovens.

Larena suddenly laughed and said, “Galen is going to be sorry he missed this.”

Isla set aside the bowl and went to check the pastries. A glance into the ovens confirmed they were indeed ready. She removed them and set the steamy sweets out to cool.

Hayden walked up beside her. She looked at the pastries seeing the many mistakes she had made, mistakes her father would have scolded her for. Next time she would do better.

“They look and smell tasty,” Hayden said. “When can I try one?”

“Let them cool first. They’re too hot.”

His nearness did crazy things to her body. She almost reached out to touch him, to stroke the hard sinew and bronzed skin. Isla managed to stop herself at the last moment and fisted her hands.

“You didn’t have to sleep in the tower,” he murmured. “My chamber was yours to use.”

Isla swallowed, glad her back was to the others. “It wasn’t right of me to take your chamber when there was another place for me to stay.”

“The tower suits you, I think.”

She looked at him then and found it difficult to breathe. His black eyes were on her, desire smoldering in their depths, the same desire she had seen in his eyes the previous night when he had nearly kissed her. “Does it?”

“Aye. It gives you the distance you need from others.”

“What makes you think that?”

He lifted a massive shoulder. “It’s not difficult to discern. You kept to yourself in Cairn Toul. It only makes sense that you would want your privacy here as well.”

“You think you know me?”

He leaned down so that his mouth was next to her ear. “I think I know you better than most.”

Hayden turned on his heel and left the kitchen without another word. Isla let out a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding. Without Hayden in the kitchen, she was able to relax and once more focus on the pudding.

She went back to the work table and the pudding. She needed to shift her attention to other things besides Hayden and what he did to her.

Yet she found herself missing his dark gaze, his silent stares, and commanding manner. She missed his scent of woods and spices. In any other setting he would be a leader in his own right.

Thinking of him made her recall his appearance in her chamber. Why had he come? Was it to scare her? Talk to her? Or kiss her?

Isla wanted to ask him, but she was too afraid of the answer. It was better if she forgot about the near kiss. Besides, Hayden was the wrong man for her to be attracted to. He was wrong in so many ways.

Why then do you want his kiss?

Isla sighed, because there was no easy answer. It was true she wanted his kiss. She wanted … too much. There were things that could never be hers, and the quicker she realized that the better for everyone. Especially herself.

By the time she set aside the pudding, she was exhausted, but in a pleasant way. It felt appropriate to be baking once more and immersed in the kitchens. She wasn’t sure how anything would taste, but it was a start.

The morning meal was more jovial than the previous evening, but even Isla could tell something bothered the MacLeod brothers.

Sonya was quiet, withdrawn, and that’s when Isla realized they were worried about Broc.

“Broc should have returned by now,” Ramsey said.

Isla looked from Ramsey to Hayden then to the head of the table where the MacLeods watched her. “What is the one place Deirdre feels safe, powerful?”

“Cairn Toul,” Quinn answered.

Isla nodded. “I’m sure that is where she’s at. She needs to build her army once again. She will gather any wyrran left alive there.”

Lucan gathered Cara’s hand in his and asked Isla, “I couldn’t sleep last night and was thinking about Deirdre. Is there anyone else she can turn to for aid?”

Isla inwardly cringed at the thought of Dunmore. A man who craved power and immortality, he was always willing to do whatever Deirdre asked of him. “There is a man, a human man who Deirdre used in hunting Druids.”

“Dunmore,” Marcail said, her voice laced with malice. “The brute who hunted me.”

Isla watched Marcail fiddle with the gold bands binding the many small braids. “Marcail is correct. Dunmore came to Deirdre when he was but a young lad. He had seen the wyrran, had seen one of the Warriors turn, and he followed them back to Cairn Toul.”

“And Deirdre didn’t kill him?” Lucan asked. “I cannot imagine a lad would have been beneficial to her.”

Isla shrugged and looked down at the table. “Deirdre isn’t as complicated a person as you think she is. She wants power, and she wants to be adored.”

Fallon blew a harsh breath. “So when Dunmore came to her, he bowed before her as if she was a goddess?”

“In a manner,” Isla said and turned her face to Fallon. “He did exactly as she wanted. She brought him into the fold. At first he set about doing small things for her.”

“Such as?” Quinn asked.

“Stealing. Murdering. Anything to prove his loyalty. It didn’t take long before she would send him out with the wyrran to track down Druids. Dunmore was put in charge of those wyrran. Eventually, he became one of her most trusted.”

Larena frowned. “Deirdre is all about magic. I still don’t understand why a human man would appeal to her. Whether he worshipped her or not, he could only serve her for a few years.”

“Maybe you’re looking at it the wrong way,” Hayden said. “Maybe this Dunmore was kept because he would be able to provide Deirdre with something.”

“Like what?” Lucan asked. “What could he possibly do that a Warrior or even her wyrran could not?”

Ramsey leaned forward then. “Interact with others. She liked her Warriors to stay in their Warrior form. They couldn’t walk into a village and talk to anyone.”

Isla couldn’t believe she had never thought of that. Of course Dunmore had always irritated her, so she’d stayed away from him as much as she could. “I think you’re correct, Ramsey.”

“I do, too,” Hayden agreed. “It makes sense.”

Fallon turned to Isla. “Did she ever send you into villages?”

“Nay.” Isla licked her lips and tried not to fidget. “She had other things for me.”

Arran spoke up from down the table. “How long are we going to wait before we go looking for Broc?”

“If he isn’t back in a few days, I doubt there will be anything to look for,” Isla said. “If Deirdre detects him, she will do anything in her power to capture him. Her anger will be fierce, and he’ll be the first who feels her wrath.”

Lucan swiped a hand down his face lined with worry and focused his gaze on her. “How long do you think we have before she attacks?”

“As I said before, I really don’t know. She’ll need a Druid’s blood to help regain her lost power. If she hasn’t already sent Dunmore after a Druid, she will soon.”

The door to the castle suddenly opened and Broc strode inside. He looked exhausted, but none the worse for wear. He smiled at them and started toward the tables.

“Are those long faces for me?” he asked.

Ramsey rose and shook his head. “God’s teeth, Broc. What took you so long?”

Broc held up a hand as others began to ask questions. He took a seat at the table and nodded to Larena, who handed him a goblet of water. He downed the entire goblet and wiped his mouth before he looked around the table. “Deirdre is at her mountain.”

“As Isla suspected,” Fallon said. “What else? Are there wyrran?”

Broc curled his lip. “The little bastards never seem to go away. There are more than I expected. They’ve been cleaning the mountain, but more disturbing than the wyrran is that Dunmore has returned.”

Isla fisted her hands in her lap. She had hoped she’d been wrong, but it seems she knew Deirdre much better than she wanted.

“Again, just as Isla suspected.” Fallon leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers over his stomach. “Let me guess. They’ve gone after a Druid.”

Broc nodded. “They have no idea where to find one, so they may be searching for a while.”

Isla listened as Broc recounted everything he had heard regarding Dunmore’s speech to the wyrran. If anyone could have gained entrance into the mountain without being detected, it was Broc. He was a formidable enemy, and she was glad he was aligned with the MacLeods.

Thinking of Cairn Toul made Isla remember Phelan. She wanted to ask Broc about him, but didn’t want everyone to know. Once Cara brought Broc a plate of food, the other women rose to clean the table.

Isla hesitated. When only Quinn, Broc, Ramsey, and Hayden remained she knew she had to ask. She wished Hayden would leave, though. She didn’t like him to know any more of her misdeeds, but there was no way around it.

“Broc, I need to speak with you about something.”

He nodded and shoved a huge bite of bread in his mouth.

Isla’s stomach wound into tight, hard knots. She was nervous, nervous about all of them discovering this dark secret of hers, but she had to know the answer. “Do you remember the doorway in the mountain that Deirdre forbade anyone enter?”

Broc paused in his chewing, his soft brown eyes regarding her. He swallowed and nodded. “I went there when the attack began. I heard something or someone roaring down there.”

“There was nothing there when you went.”

He set aside his food and regarded her with hard eyes. “What was down there, Isla?”

She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “A Warrior by the name of Phelan Stewart.”

“What?” Broc placed his hands flat on the table, his gaze narrowed and dangerous.

Isla could see the other Warriors staring at her. Their presence only made this situation more uncomfortable, but she had already begun. She would end this. “Deirdre had him chained down there for … decades.”

“How did he come to be there?” Quinn asked.

It became difficult to breathe. It always did when Isla thought of Phelan and what she had done to him. “I brought him there when he was just a small child.”