knew she was safe, where everyone knew her secret and didn’t care. She was going to miss Malcolm, but she knew this day had been coming for a while. Malcolm deserved a life, and she was going to ensure he had one.
She rose from her bath and dried off. She was sore from Fallon’s lovemaking, but it was a delectable soreness, one she wanted to experience again and again.
She had learned her lesson though. She didn’t trust anyone but Malcolm and other Warriors. The man who had claimed her body first had wooed her with pretty words and promises. She had seen too late what he was about, and even with her powers she’d been unable to save her father.
Even now, so many decades later, she could remember finding her lover standing over her father’s body, the dagger still buried in her father’s chest. Blind rage had consumed her, and when she had returned to herself, her lover was dead. By her hand.
It was the first time she had taken a human life, and though he had murdered her father, she still felt the weight of that life taken every day.
It was a bitter lesson, but one she had needed to help sustain her through her long, lonely years.
Larena dressed in a gown of the softest cream. The wired collar with decorative lace edging was all the rage, but she hated it. Just as she hated the cartwheel hoops she wore under her gown. It was ridiculous for a woman to wear such trappings. She couldn’t move freely to engage in battle if a wyrran came upon her, and it took her too much time to get out of the gown.
She adjusted the wide, lace-edged cuffs of her sleeve and longed to don the simple gowns she had worn while she lived with her clan. She much preferred life in the Highlands with men in their kilts to the stuffy, overindulged buffoons that walked around with knitted stockings and padded breeches.
As her maid combed and pinned her hair, a knock sounded on her door. Her heart leaped, thinking it was Fallon, but she realized a moment later Fallon wouldn’t come to see her.
“Enter,” she called.
She smiled as she saw Malcolm through the mirror of her dressing table. “Any news?”
“I was about to ask you the same thing,” he said as he leaned against the door. “Are you almost finished?”
“That will be all.” Larena dismissed the maid.
Once they were alone, Malcolm walked to the chair. He sat and braced his elbows on his knees. “Tell me you have good news.”
“The best.” She couldn’t stop the smile from spreading. “Fallon has agreed to take me to the castle. He wants to leave immediately.”
Malcolm grinned. “I’m relieved to hear it. I think the sooner you’re away from here the better.”
He wasn’t ready to say farewell, and she wasn’t either, truth be told. But Malcolm had sacrificed too much. “You must promise that you will forget about me and get on with your life.”
He chuckled. “Never. You’ve given me adventure the likes of which I’ll never know again.”
“You need to find a wife and sire plenty of children. You’ve a clan to lead, Malcolm, and I’ve no doubt you will be the best laird of the Monroes yet.”
He rubbed his chin, his brow furrowed. “Are you sure about MacLeod?”
“You know my issues with trusting people better than most. Fallon has given his vow to help protect me. I believe him.”
“That’s all I ask.”
She rose and held out her hand to him. “Thank you. For everything.”
“I’m going to miss you.”
She leaned up and kissed his cheek. “Aye. I feel the same.”
Chapter Ten
Quinn’s body ached. He’d been cut, bruised, and beaten, yet he hadn’t given in to his god as Deirdre wanted. He smiled and then winced as his busted lip cracked open and began to bleed again.
Deirdre had actually come down to his cell. She had stood in the entrance and watched her Warriors beat him. After a while she had called a halt and told Quinn to turn, to let his god free.
He had looked at her through the one eye that wasn’t swollen shut and laughed at her. The beating had started again, and this time the Warriors used their claws. They had repeated the process several times until Deirdre had left the prison.
He knew the instant she departed because the Warriors went at him as though they wanted to kill him. And they nearly had. He would heal, though it would take time.
His shoulders ached from hanging by the chains, but it was better than rolling around with the rats. He shuddered. God, he hated the rats. They were always there, their squeaking heard throughout the dungeons. Quinn had felt them run across his feet too many times.
With both eyes swollen shut now he couldn’t see, but he could hear the rat coming toward him. He knew by the sound of its tiny claws on the rocks that it was almost upon him.
The rat paused, but kept coming.
And to his confusion, the rat did.
Quinn felt something in his mind. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he would try anything to keep the rats away from him.
His heart leaped into his throat when the rat turned and scurried away. Quinn wasn’t sure what had happened, and he was too tired to think about it. His head felt as if someone had tried to crack open his skull. All he wanted to do was sleep and dream of home, of his brothers.
He wanted to tell his brothers he had pushed aside the anger that hadn’t left him in three hundred years. That fury had allowed his god to rule him, and when Quinn discovered that’s what Deirdre wanted, he had fought his god with everything he had. He would die now before he let his god out.
Fallon paced his chamber as he watched the sun break the horizon, his mind occupied with thoughts of Larena. He hadn’t wanted to let her go, but if they were to leave for his castle, she had to get things in order.
He still couldn’t believe she was a Warrior. Never would he have guessed there would be a female Warrior. Though why he should be surprised, he wasn’t sure. It was well known that some of the fiercest Celtic warriors had been women.
A chill wrapped around his heart as he thought of Deirdre discovering Larena. Fallon had experienced for himself the treachery of Deirdre, and he didn’t want Larena coming anywhere near that evil bitch.
The need to get to MacLeod Castle was great. If he’d had his way, they would already be there, but Larena was insistent on talking to Malcolm first. He understood, Malcolm had done much for her, but Fallon couldn’t help thinking the longer they stayed at the king’s castle the longer Larena put herself in danger.
They were to meet in the garden in less than an hour. Larena had no idea they would be at MacLeod Castle in less time than it took to blink. He couldn’t wait to return, though regrettably he would have no news of the Scroll that could help free Quinn from Deirdre.
Fallon blew out a breath. He hadn’t been able to talk to the king. He would, however, ask Larena if she knew anything of the Scroll. There had to be some Warrior or Druid who knew if it was real or not.
Fallon found himself staring at a bush of dark red roses. His mother had loved roses. His father had brought a shrub back from a trip to Glasgow one year. Fallon smiled as he recalled how his mother had reverently planted the shrub, watching over it every day. Fallon had doubted it would survive in their rocky soil, but with her care, the plant had grown and bloomed with flowers of virginal white.
He should have taken care of the roses, but like everything else, he had let them wither and die.
The sound of a knock on his door brought Fallon out of his thoughts. He opened it to find Malcolm. Fallon looked at the young lord with new eyes. Malcolm had put his own life at risk helping Larena.
