Darkest Highlander (8 page)

They walked the rest of the village in silence. When they reached the end, Sonya turned to start back toward the inn when Broc pushed her up against a cottage.

His hard body pressed hers against the cottage wall, shielding her. Instinctively she braced her hands against his chest. Beneath her palms she could feel the strong, steady beat of his heart and the taut, hard muscles.

Fire licked beneath her skin, heating her blood and causing her heart to race erratically. It was always so when Broc touched her, and the more she stayed near him, the more her body yearned for his touch.

Sonya inhaled his scent of wind, of warm, sunny skies. She waited for him to caress her, to kiss her as she had dreamed of him doing since the first moment she had seen him standing outside Quinn’s chamber.

She could feel the heat of his skin through the tunic he wore. How she longed to be able to touch his bare flesh, to trace the line of muscles she felt beneath her hands, muscles she had seen countless times as he stood bare-chested before her in his Warrior form.

Slowly, Sonya raised her gaze from Broc’s chest to his face. He wasn’t looking at her as she had expected. His dark eyes weren’t filled with passion and desire.

It was the way he stared off into the woods which told her something had alerted him to danger. He was there to protect her, to ensure she returned to MacLeod Castle without incident. Regardless of what Broc wanted, he would see to her safety first.

“What is it?” she whispered.

“Wyrran.”

EIGHT

It was all Broc could do not to lean down and take Sonya’s lips. Her hands on his chest, her body pressed so tightly against his. It was too much.

The yearning, the hunger for her was irresistible.

He had thought of nothing but protecting her when he’d caught sight of the yellow-skinned wyrran. But the moment their bodies had touched, Broc’s need to stroke, to learn, to claim Sonya warred with that of protection.

Rage bubbled within him, rage he knew came from his god. Yet, he couldn’t control it. He wanted to hunt the wyrran and rip it limb from limb for disturbing his time with Sonya.

“Are you sure?” Sonya murmured.

“Unfortunately. I couldna shake the feeling last night that something was near. Now I know what it was.”

He could sense her fear by the way she shook. Her fingers, which had lain so gently on his chest, now dug into his skin as she tensed.

“Did it see us?”

“Most certainly,” he replied grimly.

“Where are they?”

“It. I sense there is only one at the moment, and I doona know where it went. I also doona wish to leave you to find out.”

“But you need to,” she said, and tilted her face to him.

Broc shook his head as he gazed into her amber eyes. “I’m no’ leaving you. There’s no use arguing. It would be exactly what it would want so you would be left alone.”

“Take me back to the inn. I’ll be safe there.”

“How will you protect yourself?” he demanded. He hated how gruff and entirely too harsh his voice was, but the thought of Sonya in the hands of Deirdre made his blood turn to ice. “You say you cannot use your magic, so what will you use?”

She lowered her eyes and shrugged. “I have nothing. No magic, no skill with a weapon. You’ve made your point.”

“My point is to no’ make you feel inferior. My point is that I cannot—and willna—leave you alone while there are wyrran about.”

“Then how are you to kill it?”

Broc took a deep breath and took a step away from Sonya. “I doona know. Yet. But I will.”

“In order to kill it, you’re either going to have to take me with you or leave me alone in the inn. Those are your only choices.”

He hated that she was right. Hated it more that the wyrran—and Deirdre—had put him in this position. But he’d always known it would come to this.

His life mattered not, but Sonya was another matter entirely. He didn’t fear death, only that he wouldn’t live long enough to ensure Sonya was protected at MacLeod Castle.

“There’s another choice,” he said as he thought of the Warriors and Druids. “We leave for MacLeod Castle. Immediately.”

“And leave the wyrran to do whatever it wants with this village or another village it comes across? You know yourself what Deirdre has sent them to do.”

Broc ran a hand down his face and turned to the forest. He knew all too well what the wyrran were capable of. He’d seen their destructive power on his family, had seen the death that lay in their wake after they swept through a village.

Could he leave this one behind? Did he dare to let it go on the chance it might not hurt anyone?

He knew he couldn’t.

He put his hands on his hips and nodded. “All right. I’ll kill it. Then we return to the castle. I doona know what is happening there and they could need me.”

She hesitated for a brief moment before she said, “Agreed.”

Broc curled his hands into fists as he felt his claws begin to grow. He wanted to hunt the wyrran straightaway. The sooner he killed it, the sooner he could get Sonya back to the castle.

And the sooner he could put some much-needed distance between them.

If the past few days had showed him anything, it was that being near her, alone with her, was testing the limits of his control. Which were fast unraveling.

“We need to return to the inn,” Broc said as he took hold of her arm. “Act as if nothing is wrong, but be on guard.”

“How did it find us so quickly?”

Broc kept his eyes moving around the village, looking for any signs a wyrran was still near. “I doona know. With Deirdre, almost anything is possible. After seeing her nearly take back control of Isla, it’s obvious her magic has been restored.”

“So she’s looking for us.”

“She’s looking for the Warriors who were once allied with her and who are no’ dead. I doona imagine there are many left. We killed most in the battle.”

“The battle where everyone thought Deirdre had died,” Sonya mumbled.

Broc opened the door to the inn and ushered Sonya inside. He gave a nod to Jean who still stood behind the counter, and walked Sonya up the stairs and into their chamber.

Once the door was shut and bolted behind him, Broc strode to the window. “Deirdre wanted the MacLeods before. She’s no’ accustomed to being betrayed. She will hunt and kill anyone associated with the MacLeods in retaliation.”

“Including you.”

“Aye. I know more than most. The only Warrior who was closer to Deirdre than me was William, and he was killed.”

The bed creaked, signaling Sonya had sat. “I shouldn’t have fought against returning to the castle. We’d be safe now.”

Broc turned to Sonya. “This is no’ your fault. We’ve seen the wyrran, and I will kill it. I willna allow it to harm anyone.”

“And the others? You know there are others out there. You cannot kill them all.”

“I can kill most. Finding them is no’ the problem. It’s getting to them before they can do any mischief.”

Her amber gaze seemed to see right through him, as if she knew he longed to unleash his god and spread his wings to fly through the night, tracking each wyrran to kill it.

Warring with the need for the wyrran’s death was his growing and ever-present longing for Sonya.

Just being alone in the room with her was the sweetest kind of torment. Her lavender scent made him think of wildflowers and forests. Her scent was on his clothes, on the linens of the bed, and forever in his memory.

With three steps he could close the distance between them. He could cover her lips with his, sinking into her kiss. Slowly. Thoroughly.

Completely.

To have her taste on his tongue, to know the essence of her, was what he dreamed about. Everything about her was magical and utterly breathtaking.

One of the best days of his long, exhaustive life was when she used her magic so he could hear the trees talk to her. It had been an experience that touched his very soul. An experience that only made him want her even more, if that were possible.

No one had shared anything so personal, so beautiful with him before. He hadn’t mattered enough to anyone. Yet, Sonya had given him that small gift because she had wanted to share something with him.

He still didn’t understand why she had chosen him, but he cherished it.

Her head cocked to the side as her red hair fell over her shoulder in a cascade of curls. “What are you thinking when you look at me like that?”

“I was thinking about when you allowed me to hear the trees. Why did you do that?”

She shrugged and picked at her skirts. “I’m not sure. You were there and I wanted you to hear them, to hear how lovely they were. How important they are to me.”

“Everyone knows how important the trees are to you.”

“Yet, you seemed surprised I would allow you to hear them. Why?”

Broc smiled wryly. “Do you forget where I was all those years? Do you think there was any kindness inside Cairn Toul?”

“How old are you?”

He blinked at her sudden change of topic. But he didn’t hesitate to tell her. “Two hundred and seventy-five since I was turned immortal.”

“All of it spent with Deirdre?”

“All but the past few weeks, aye.” He hated talking about his time with Deirdre, but since it took up most of his life, he had nothing else to talk about. And he knew Sonya was curious.

Sonya’s tongue peeked out to wet her lips. “Then I’m glad I showed you the wonders of the trees.”

Maybe it was the light in her amber eyes. Maybe it was the way she looked at him, but Broc almost went to her and took the kiss he had been fantasizing about.

She cleared her throat and gave a weak smile. “So, what do we do now? Wait?”

Broc glanced out the window as he tried to think of a reason a wyrran would be at the village. He felt no magic other than Sonya’s, so the wyrran couldn’t be here for a Druid. Unless there were Druids nearby.

“I’m going to go see how many wyrran are about. I want you to stay here.”

“I will,” she promised. “How many do you think there are?”

“If there are several, they’ve been sent to find someone and bring him back to Deirdre.”

“And if there’s only one?”

Broc blew out a breath. “That’s another matter entirely. That means the wyrran was sent to scout for something or someone. Once it finds what it’s searching for, it’ll return to Deirdre.”

“Who will then send more wyrran,” Sonya finished.

“Aye.”

“You think there’s only one, don’t you?”

He wouldn’t lie to her, but how he wished she wouldn’t figure things out so quickly. “I doona want to say until I’ve had a look around.”

“Just tell me your thoughts. Please.”

He would rather go look first, but Sonya was having none of that. “I think there’s just one.”

“I see,” she murmured. “Then you had better go after it.”

It wasn’t yet noon. It would be easier if he waited until nightfall so he could fly, but waiting would allow the wyrran to put a great distance between them.

“I’ll be fine,” Sonya said, as if sensing his reluctance. “I’ll stay here. In this chamber.”

Broc looked around for a weapon—any weapon—he could give her. But there was nothing. As a Warrior, he didn’t need a sword or other blade. His claws and superior strength and speed were all the weapons he needed.

Sonya watched Broc pace around the chamber as if he were searching for something. He stopped and glared at the door before he mumbled something about returning shortly and left.

She was too curious about where Broc had gone to be able to relax. What had him so troubled? What could propel him out of the chamber so quickly?

It hadn’t been wyrran. That she was sure of. What, then?

Her answer presented itself when, a few moments later the door opened and Broc reentered. He walked to her and held out a short scabbard which held a dagger.

Broc slowly pulled the weapon from its sheath, and Sonya found herself staring at a wicked, deadly-looking curved blade that came to a vicious point.

“This is for you,” Broc said.

Sonya took it, surprised to find that the dagger felt lighter than she had imagined. She studied, with astonishment, the detailed knot work etched into the wooden handle of the weapon. “Where did you find this?”

“I had Jean tell me where I could purchase a weapon for you.”

“You realize what’s on the hilt?”

He gave a small jerk of his head. “It’s one of the reasons I chose it. Its light, and though the blade isna as long as a sword’s, it’s longer than some daggers.”

Sonya couldn’t stop looking at the weapon. “I’ll keep it with me always. Thank you, Broc.”

“If I didna have to leave, there’d be no need for you to have a blade. I’m no’ sure you should thank me.”

She took his hand in hers and gave it a small squeeze. “No one has ever given me anything before.”

His warm fingers closed over hers. She lost herself in his dark eyes, wondering, wishing she knew what thoughts ran through his mind. There were times, like then, that she thought he might want her.

That he might desire her.

Then he would blink and it would disappear, as if she imagined all of it.

“I’ll return as soon as I can. The wyrran willna have gone far. Hopefully I’ll find it, kill it, and return before dark.”

“And if you don’t?”

“Jean already knows I have to leave. She’s going to keep an eye on you. There are a few men she uses to guard the inn, and they will be here tonight.”

Sonya nodded absently. “You will return.”

“If for some reason I doona, here’s coin,” he said, and handed her a small bag. “Use it to buy a horse and men to ride with you to the MacLeod’s.

“You’ll return.”

He stared at her a moment. “Aye, but just in case. Promise me you’ll do as I’ve asked.”

“I promise.”

Sonya couldn’t imagine Broc not returning, but then again if Deirdre was out for revenge, Broc would be one of the first on her list.

He released her hand and turned away. Sonya stood and followed him. She didn’t want him to leave, but she knew he had no choice. He had to kill the wyrran before it reported back to Deirdre.