Forbidden Highlander

Chapter Twenty-Four

After the excitement of the morning with Broc, Camdyn, and the wyrran, Larena was ready for a quiet afternoon. Camdyn had been introduced to Sonya and Cara and was now helping with the cottages while the three women sat in the great hall.

“I cannot believe the wyrran attacked.” Cara stuck her needle in the gown she was mending with force and yanked it out the other side. She shook her head and sighed. “I should have been there.”

Sonya smiled and smoothed the material of the tunic she was sewing. “I think I would have liked to see the men fighting. And you as well, Larena.”

With a grunt Larena settled in her chair. “I didn’t do that well. I’m not used to fighting in my skirts.”

Cara put down her sewing, her forehead furrowed. “What do you wear then?”

“I usually use my powers to become invisible and fight naked.”

“Now that’s something I imagine the men would like to see,” Sonya said with a giggle. Her amber eyes twinkled with merriment, and soon Cara joined in her laughter.

Larena smiled despite herself. “Fallon pointed out to me that there won’t always be time to use my powers, and he’s right. Especially when I’m fighting Warriors. I’ve depended on my powers for too long.”

“What will you do?” Cara asked. “You could learn to fight in your skirts as I do.”

“I could, but since as Warriors we jump and leap while we fight, the skirts will hamper me.”

Sonya threaded her needle. “Well, it’s not as if you can wear breeches.”

Larena jerked upright, a sudden thought occurring to her. “Why not? The Celts did. Their women wore trousers and fought right alongside the men.”

“We aren’t in ancient times,” Cara said. “I don’t know if the men will approve.”

“I don’t care if they do,” Larena said as she rose to her feet. “I need to be able to fight, and I cannot do that in a gown.” She swallowed and looked at each of the women. She didn’t normally ask anyone for help, but she needed Cara and Sonya. “Will you help me?”

Cara and Sonya exchanged a look before slow smiles spread on the women’s faces. “Aye,” they said in unison.

“Good,” Larena said as relief swept through her. “Let’s get started. We have no idea when the next attack will be.”

Sonya tossed aside her tunic while Cara finished her last stitch and gently set the gown out of the way.

“I can’t wait until Fallon sees you in breeches,” Cara said with a chuckle. “He’s going to be speechless.”

Larena certainly hoped so. Not that she was doing anything to gain his attention.

Or at least she tried to convince herself that she wasn’t.

Deirdre checked Quinn’s injuries as she did several times a day. He was healing nicely. His body had needed the rest, and she liked having him in her bed. Every night she nestled against him and slept.

It was the first time she had ever let a man spend the entire night in her bed. And Quinn would be the last as well.

Her long nails that she filed to a sharp point traced up Quinn’s bare leg to his hip. Whenever she was in the chamber with him, she took off the blanket so she could look her fill at his beautifully sculpted body.

He had lost weight in her dungeons, as they all did. But she would see the muscle put back on his bones soon. For now, it was enough just to be with him.

One of her pets scratched at her door before opening it. The wyrran let out a hiss, letting her know she had a visitor. Deirdre rose and rubbed behind the wyrran’s large ears.

“Thank you,” she said. “Let’s go see what Dunmore has brought us this time.”

Deirdre walked out of her private chambers to a set of stairs that led to a long corridor where her throne room sat. She opened the door to find the tall, hulking form of Dunmore. He had come to her as a young man eager for power, and through the years she had continued to give him more and more authority.

“Mistress.” He bowed low, his dark curls falling over his high forehead. “You grow more beautiful each day.”

“Such flattery.” But Deirdre smiled.

She had always liked Dunmore. He had lines around his eyes now, but his body was still firm with no fat visible. He knew how to take care of himself, and as a man who had shared her bed, he knew how to pleasure a woman.

He also didn’t mind a woman being in charge, nor did he hesitate to carry out her orders. Just the sort of man she needed to round up the Druids.

Dunmore pushed aside his red cloak and placed his hands on his hips, his feet braced shoulder width apart. “I found them. They were living in caves and starving.”

“How many did you bring me?”

He glanced at the floor, his black eyes troubled. “Twelve in all. Two of the old women didn’t make the trip.”

“You are harsh with them,” Deirdre said.

“As you’ve told me to be.”

She smiled. “Go on.”

“One of the young ones, a lad of about seven summers, escaped. We chased him, and just as we were about to catch him, he jumped off the side of the mountain.”

“It appears my reputation precedes me.” Deirdre walked to a silver chest that sat on a table near her throne. The chest was unadorned except for intricate knotwork in a beautiful design all over the chest. The knotwork had been infused with spells to keep anyone but her from touching the chest since it housed coin and jewels.

Deirdre opened the lid and lifted a small velvet bag. She tested the weight of the coins within before she turned and tossed it to Dunmore. “Once again you’ve done well.”

He tucked the bag into his belt and bowed. “It is my wish to serve you.”

“My seer has told me of another group of Druids that think they can hide from me.” One of her greatest finds had been the seer, and Deirdre put her to use whenever she could.

“Tell me where to find them, mistress, and I will bring them to you.”

Deirdre walked to Dunmore and tapped the cleft on his chin. “These Druids won’t be as easy to find. They use magic to cloak themselves. There is one I want above the others. A young woman with turquoise eyes. You won’t mistake her. She has … information I need.”

“I’ve not failed you before. I willna now.” His eyes glittered with determination, his jaw set.

She studied the man before her. Neither Dunmore nor his family had Druid blood or gods in them. Yet, he had proven to be a wonderful talent. She had intended to kill him for daring to seek her out, but she had sensed in him a thread of evil that she worked to her benefit.

“Nay, Dunmore, you won’t fail me because you know how much I want these Druids. And because you like the influence I give you. Return with the girl and I will reward you with wealth beyond your imagining. Bring other Druids with her, and I’ll make it worth your while.”

Once Deirdre relayed where the Druids were hiding, he gave her another bow and left. She watched his retreating back. If Dunmore failed, she would skin him alive and use his bowels to choke him. She had to have this Druid named Marcail.

Fallon wiped the sweat from his face with the sleeve of his tunic. The clouds had begun to gather just after noon, shielding most of the sun. Rain was in the air, and he wanted the roof Larena had fallen through fixed before it began.

“Almost done,” Logan called down from above him.

While Fallon had worked, his mind replayed Broc’s visit and all he had been told. He hoped Broc hadn’t been lying when he said Quinn was all right. Just thinking that his youngest brother might be suffering was like a noose tightening around his neck.

He prayed Quinn stayed strong while in Deirdre’s mountain. Quinn had been so perilously close to losing it before Cara had come to their castle. And seeing Lucan and Cara’s obvious love for each other had just made things worse for Quinn.

Not once since the deaths of his wife and son had Quinn ever spoken of them. Fallon and Lucan had bowed to Quinn’s wishes and didn’t ask questions. So, when Quinn confessed that he had never loved his wife, Fallon couldn’t have been more stunned.

He had thought their union was one born of love. Quinn had fooled everyone, including himself. Fallon wanted the best for his brothers, and each of them deserved the kind of marriage their parents had had. He didn’t want Quinn settling again.

Fallon rubbed his neck as he felt the ache that settled at the base of his skull every time he thought of Quinn. Quinn was strong. He would know they were coming for him.

“Hold on, little brother,” Fallon whispered.

“Finished!”

Fallon looked above him. Logan had repaired the hole so well it was hard to determine where Larena had fallen through. Fallon walked out of the cottage and nodded to Logan as he jumped to the ground.

“Well done.”

Logan shrugged and dusted off his hands. “It was an easy task. I used to have to repair my family’s roof.”

Fallon waited to see if Logan would speak further about his past. It was a rare occurrence when any of them spoke about the time before they had been turned into Warriors.

When Logan said no more, Fallon piled more pieces of shattered beds, chairs, and tables on the fire. Most everything had already been burned, and by the end of the next day, the rest would be gone as well.

“Things are moving well,” Lucan said as he walked up with Galen and Camdyn. “Already the village looks better.”

Fallon handed his brother a water skin and looked up at the dark clouds coming their way. “We have six more cottages that need to be torn down and burned. The rain may delay things.”

Lucan drank deeply before offering the water to Camdyn. “The rain willna bother my work, and if need be, I can work with you in the rain removing the cottages.”

“Nay, work on the construction of the furniture,” Fallon said. “Logan and I can handle the rest.”

“And I can help,” Camdyn added.

Fallon nodded to the most recent arrival. A glance at his brother told Fallon that Lucan liked Camdyn, which was good. The more Warriors they had to fight against Deirdre the better.

“It looks like Broc has returned,” Galen said.

Fallon turned around to see Broc flying toward him with something in his arms. The way Broc flew as if he were injured gave Fallon pause. Without a word to the others, Fallon started running toward Broc.

The winged Warrior was flying low, barely missing the tops of the trees. He landed heavily as Fallon came to a stop in front of him.

“He’s hurt bad, but not dead,” Broc said, and laid Malcolm on the ground between them.

Fallon noticed the cuts and blood on Broc as the others fanned out behind him. “What happened?”

“I saw him being beaten.”

“By whom?”

Broc rubbed his eyes with one hand while he flexed his other shoulder. “It doesn’t matter.”

But it did. Fallon waited while Lucan knelt beside Malcolm then nodded that the man was still alive.

“Why did you help him?” Fallon asked.

Broc’s gaze met his. “Malcolm is an innocent. He is neither Druid nor Warrior. There was no need to harm him.”

Fallon was taken aback by the anger in Broc’s barely controlled voice. Then he noticed the injuries on Broc’s body. Not all the blood on him was Malcolm’s. “He helped Larena. In some people’s mind, that is enough to condemn him.”

“Not in mine.”

Fallon blew out a breath. “Thank you.”

Broc said nothing as he jumped in the air and flew away once more.

“I’m not quite sure what to make of him,” Lucan said of Broc’s retreating form.

Fallon shook his head. “Me neither. Let’s get Malcolm to the castle. Larena will want to see him.”

But when Fallon bent down to lift Malcolm he noticed the extent of his injuries, including the bone protruding from Malcolm’s arm. Fallon met Lucan’s gaze and sighed. Malcolm’s arm hung at an awkward angle, and Fallon feared trying to use his powers to move him to the castle and what it might do to Malcolm’s arm.

“Logan, I need you to find Sonya and bring her here. Tell her we have an injured man she needs to see to immediately. Lucan, find Larena.”

Lucan rose to his feet, his face grim. “What will you do?”

“I’m going to move Malcolm into a cottage. We cannot treat him out in the open.”

Camdyn moved to stand at Malcolm’s feet. “I’ll help you carry him. The more of us that hold him the better.”

“I agree,” Galen said.

“Then Logan needs to stay,” Lucan said. “I can get Sonya and Larena.”

“Hurry,” Fallon urged his brother.

Lucan spun on his heel and ran toward the castle. Fallon wiped his hand down his face and looked at Malcolm. He could barely recognize his face.

“All right,” Fallon said after a moment. “I want to take him to the cottage we just repaired, Logan. The bed was still intact, wasn’t it?”

Logan nodded. “Aye, and there are a couple of chairs that also hadn’t been destroyed.”

“Good. I want us to lift and move him carefully. He’s unconscious, and I’d like for him to stay that way for the time being.”

“Will Sonya be able to set his arm?” Camdyn asked. “It looks dreadful.”

Fallon swallowed the bile that rose in his throat. “I honestly don’t know.”

The four of them lifted Malcolm with the care they would have shown an infant. Their steps were slow and measured as they walked to the cottage. Thankfully, it was the closest one.

Malcolm groaned in pain when Fallon stumbled over a rock and jerked. Fallon wanted him on the bed and some of the blood washed away before Larena saw him.

“The door is narrow,” Logan said. “Camdyn, you go first, but step carefully over the threshold. Once he’s through, Galen, you go next.”

Camdyn eased through the door with Malcolm’s feet. Galen had some trouble getting through, but after they angled Malcolm’s body, he was able to walk into the cottage. Logan was next as he squeezed through the doorway without bumping Malcolm once.

Fallon had Malcolm’s shoulders and easily stepped through the door, then turned to lay him down when they spotted pieces of the roof on the bed from when Larena fell through.

“Hold him.” Logan moved with efficient speed as he cleaned off the bed and pulled back the covers.

It took all of them to lay Malcolm down without incident. Fallon straightened and jerked his head to the door when he heard a startled gasp and found Larena gripping the doorway so tightly her knuckles were white.

Larena’s face crumpled, but she didn’t cry, not that Fallon would have thought less of her had he seen the tears.

“What happened?” she asked in a strangled voice.

Fallon’s heart ached for the pain that seemed to swallow her whole. “Broc brought him to us. He said he found Malcolm being beaten.”

Her eyes lifted to his, and he saw the stark anguish in their smoky-blue depths. “Who would do this to him?”

“Broc didn’t say, but I think it was Warriors.”

“Could Broc have done it?”

Fallon shook his head. “It was my first thought. Until I saw Broc’s own injuries. Nay, Larena, he fought to get your cousin free.”

“Oh, God,” she said and put her forehead to the doorway. “His arm, Fallon.”

“I know. Sonya has great magic. She will do all she can.” He just prayed it would be enough.

Larena took a deep breath and straightened from the door. That’s when he noticed she no longer wore a gown but breeches and a tunic. The buttery soft brown leather encased her slim legs like a second skin. His mouth watered at the sight.

A tunic of blue had been altered to fit her, showing off her full breasts. Though the tunic hid her waist and most of her hips, Fallon still saw the swell of her buttocks.

He licked his lips and bit back a groan. He had never thought he would be reduced to such a state by the image of a woman. But then again, he had never imagined a woman such as Larena.

Her gaze dared him to rebuff her. Fallon didn’t like the idea of her walking around in breeches, especially given the fact that both Camdyn and Logan were as thunderstruck as he was.

“You said I couldn’t depend on my powers,” she said. “You said I needed to learn to fight without them.”

“So I did,” Fallon murmured. She had taken his argument and used it against him. “I’m not used to seeing a woman in breeches.”

She looked down at herself and stubbed the toe of her boot on the ground. “It feels odd, but I can move much better when I’m fighting.”

Malcolm groaned and everyone forgot Larena’s attire and focused on him.

“I knew this might happen to him,” Larena said as she walked to Malcolm and placed her hand on his forehead. “He always said he would fight and die by my side, even though he doesn’t have my powers.”

“He is a good man,” Fallon said.

Larena nodded. “I will never forgive myself if he dies.”

“He won’t die,” Logan said. “Sonya is coming, and she will help him.”

Fallon prayed Logan was right. Malcolm looked ghastly but Fallon knew from personal experience that Sonya’s magic for healing was great.

A moment later Sonya, Cara, and Lucan walked into the cottage. Sonya didn’t say a word as she went to Malcolm and began to inspect his injuries.

Fallon moved to the door where the other men had gathered. He crossed his arms over his chest and watched as the three women bent their heads over Malcolm.

Moments stretched into hours as they wiped away the blood again and again. Fallon and Lucan took turns getting more water for the women to wring out the blood-soaked cloths.

An eternity later, Sonya straightened, her hand on her lower back. “His arm is broken and dislocated. If I don’t get it back in place and set the bone correctly, he won’t be able to use his arm, regardless of the magic I use. Once his arm is done, I’ll see to the other wounds.”

A Highlander needed both arms. A clan looked to their laird for strength, courage, and wisdom. Without all three, they wouldn’t follow him. And even though Malcolm had enough courage to overcome losing an arm, his clan wouldn’t care.

Fallon walked to Sonya. “What do you need me todo?”

Her red hair was plastered to the side of her face, and her amber eyes held a wealth of misery. “Hold him. It’s going to take all of you, I’m sure.”

Fallon motioned the other Warriors over, and each set their hands on Malcolm to hold him down.

“I’m going to pop his shoulder back into position first,” Sonya said.

She licked her lips and with a twist and a yank, put the joint into place. Malcolm yelled, his back bowing from the pain.

Sonya glanced up at Fallon. “Get ready,” she advised everyone. “The bone has gone through the skin and he’s going to fight.”

“Can’t you just use magic?” Logan asked.

Sonya glanced at him and shook her head. “If only it were that easy, Logan. Magic isn’t the answer to everything, especially for mortals who hold no magic within them.”

As soon as Larena touched his arm near the break, Malcolm’s eyes flew open. He bucked and tried to break from their grip, his bellows of pain filling the cottage. Fallon and the other used all their strength to hold him steady so Sonya could set the break.

Cara took Malcolm’s injured hand in hers and held it. Larena caressed his brow and whispered words into his ear that Fallon couldn’t discern.

Malcolm’s eyes were crazed, his breathing ragged. Already his wounds had begun to bleed again.

“Hold him,” Sonya yelled when Malcolm gave a vicious yank.

“Forget his other injuries,” Fallon said to the others. “Just hold him. Sonya will deal with everything once his arm is set.”

With that, the other Warriors clamped down on Malcolm until he could barely move. He screamed in agony when Sonya pulled his arm to get the bone back under the skin.

Sweat beaded Fallon’s brow as he imagined the pain that filled Malcolm. No one let up their hold until Sonya had set the bone.

“He’s passed out,” Larena said.

Fallon looked down to find that Malcolm was indeed unconscious again. He released his hold and stepped back. The others did the same, but Camdyn left the cottage.

Once he saw how pale Larena was, Fallon brought her a chair and made her sit. Then he wrung out a wet cloth and gave it to her so she could wipe Malcolm’s brow.

Sonya gave him a nod, letting him know that she had everything under control. Fallon left the cottage to seek some fresh air. The smell of blood clung to the air in the cottage, reminding him of his clan’s murder.

“Is he going to be all right?”

Fallon turned his head to find Camdyn leaning against the outside of the cottage. Camdyn’s hands shook as he brought them to his face to brush away a strand of hair.

“I think so,” Fallon answered. “We won’t know about his arm until the break has mended. Sonya will use whatever magic she can to heal him.”

Camdyn shifted his stance. “I had an uncle, a big bear of a man, who had his arm crushed when a tree fell on him. He had been respected and revered in the clan until that accident. Afterward, people wouldn’t look him in the eye. He didn’t give up living though. He learned to use his sword with his left arm, but when the time came for battle, they wouldna let him fight.”

“What did your uncle do?”

“He stayed behind as they demanded, but their actions hurt him more than the loss of his arm ever did. My aunt was a good woman, and loved him despite his missing arm.”

Fallon looked to his castle and frowned. “Malcolm is supposed to be laird of his clan.”

“God help him then,” Camdyn murmured.

Fallon pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. Camdyn had the right of it. If Malcolm couldn’t use his arm, his clan wouldn’t want him. He would have nowhere to go.

After all Malcolm had done for Larena, Fallon couldn’t let him wander Scotland. They would make a place for Malcolm at the castle.

“We’ll help him,” Fallon said. “He’ll stay here with us.”

Camdyn’s head swiveled around to him. “You are the man everyone says you are. I’m sorry you didn’t get to be laird of your clan, Fallon, but I’m glad to have you lead us.”

Fallon didn’t know how to respond to Camdyn. In the end, he gave the man a nod and walked away. There was work to be done, and he was doing no one any good just standing around.