All she cared about was Galen.
They lost themselves in each other’s eyes as the rest of the world vanished to nothing. The castle and all others were forgotten as Galen started toward her. Reaghan never took her eyes off him. Her heart beat doubled in time and her hands itched to touch him, hold him.
He walked with purpose, commanding attention and respect. How could anyone think him nothing more than a mere man? The Warrior within was evident in the way he moved, the way his gaze devoured her.
A slow heat built in her belly, tightening with every step Galen took, until she was a smoldering mass of desire, desperate and frantic for his touch.
He stopped a step below her, putting them at eye level with each other. Her gaze dropped to his mouth, to his wide lips that she yearned to feel on her body once more.
“Reaghan,” he whispered, his tone full of torment and ecstasy. “You must stop looking at me so before I carry you to my chamber.”
She raised her gaze to his and grinned. “I wouldn’t complain.”
He groaned low in his throat. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
Reaghan lost herself in the depths of his blue eyes and their implicit promise of pleasure. His fingers grazed her cheek with the lightest of touches but left a trail of heat in its wake, heat that centered between her legs and left her throbbing for more. That was always the way with Galen. She could never get enough, and she feared she never would.
His hand dropped and he cleared his throat. “You’re exhausted,” he murmured, and took a step away from her.
Reaghan became aware that Cara and Marcail stood on either side of her. They had witnessed the exchange, but Reaghan didn’t mind.
“We’ve prepared the chambers,” Cara said. “I will show you to yours, Reaghan.”
Reaghan didn’t want to leave Galen’s side again, but she knew he had things he needed to do. And the thought of a soft bed and warm food was too much to resist.
She eagerly followed Cara and Marcail into the castle. Reaghan drank in the sight of the great hall. There were two long tables that filled the space, and four chairs sat before a large hearth.
There was no time to look her fill before they started up the stairs. Cara led her up two flights of steps and down a lengthy corridor before Cara stopped before an open door.
Reaghan glanced inside to find a small chamber with a bed against the far wall and a window on the left side. She stepped within the chamber and spotted a small table beside the bed, four wooden pegs in the wall, and a chest. Above the bed was a shield that Reaghan somehow knew dated back four hundred years.
“This is more than I had imagined,” Reaghan said as she turned to the door to find Cara and Marcail watching her.
“There is a village not far from here,” Marcail said as her fingers grabbed one of the gold bands around her braids. “But Deirdre has destroyed it twice. It was decided all Druids should stay in the castle in case of another attack.”
Reaghan glanced at the bed. “Is there room for everyone?”
Cara grinned and linked her hands in front of her. “Don’t worry. There is a place for everyone.”
“And the Warriors?” Reaghan couldn’t help but ask.
“They will sleep in the village.”
“Are you hungry? I could bring up some food,” Marcail suggested.
Reaghan was starving, but she knew they had many others to see to. “I’ll find my way to the kitchen.”
“Nonsense,” Cara said. “Rest, Reaghan. You’ve had a long journey, been attacked by wyrran, and you’ve had to leave your home. Let us see to you.”
Now that she was at MacLeod Castle, Reaghan was too tired to resist. “Only for now.”
Marcail smiled as she closed the door behind them, leaving Reaghan alone with her thoughts. She kicked off her shoes and climbed on to the bed.
Reaghan sighed as she fell back against the soft pillow. She had slept each night on the ground because she’d been so weary, but the feel of the supple bed beneath her made her realize just how hard the ground had been.
Reaghan rolled to her side and tucked her knees up to her chest. She knew she was filthy and needed a bath, but the other Druids from her village would also want to bathe. So she would wait.
Her stomach rumbled with hunger even though it hadn’t been long since their noon meal. She glanced through her open window to the sky beyond and realized the sun had begun to set.
She had been so caught up with MacLeod Castle and its people she hadn’t realized it was nearing suppertime. Reaghan looked down at her soiled dress and frowned.
With a sigh she sat up and pulled off her gown and tossed it aside. She would wash it later. For now, she would do as Cara and Marcail suggested and rest.
The sounds from the bailey drifted through her window, reminding her of all that she knew of castles. She wondered how long her spell had been erasing her memories. The secrets Mairi and Odara had kept all made sense now, and though she was frightened to her very core of what she was, she was so very glad Galen had told her.
What information did she have that must be kept from Deirdre? That was the scariest of all. Something drastic and terrifying had to have happened to her in order for her to put such a spell on herself.
Would she ever know the reason? Was there a way to break the spell? And did she even want to try?
The thought of losing her memories of Galen and what she was, not to mention the last ten years of her life, made it difficult to breathe. She didn’t want her memories erased again.
If somewhere in her memories there was a means to help Galen and the others defeat Deirdre, Reaghan would do all she could to make sure they had what they needed.
She didn’t know how, but she would.
TWENTY-FOUR
The sun was casting its last rays of light into the darkening sky as Dunmore rode through the gatehouse of the seat of clan MacClure. The castle had been enlarged and expanded in the three hundred years since the MacLeod clan had fallen.
The MacClures were one of the clans who had gained coin and land with the death of the MacLeods. But Dunmore wasn’t interested in the castle or the MacClure coin. He was only concerned about one thing, and that would soon come to pass.
“What is your business?” demanded one of the four guards who stood at the top of the steps that led into the castle.
Dunmore grinned and scratched his jaw with his thumbnail. “I was hoping you’d ask. I’m here to see your laird.”
“What reason?”
Dunmore narrowed his gaze and leaned forward to stare at the insolent man. “That matter is for your laird only. Tell him I’ve been sent by Deirdre.”
The guards paled, and the one who had spoken turned and hurried into the castle. Dunmore rested a hand on his thigh and let his gaze wander the bailey.
The children had stopped playing and huddled at the rear of a group of women who were whispering behind their hands. The men tried to appear less interested by pretending to continue with their work, but Dunmore wasn’t fooled.
He knew his hulking appearance was menacing, but that was just how he liked it. He also had the favor of Deirdre, the most powerful Druid to ever walk the land. But he imagined it was his bloodred cloak that got the most attention.
