Darkest Highlander (20 page)

*   *   *

Sonya watched Broc fly away before she returned to the fire. They had only half an oatcake left, which he had demanded she eat, with the promise that he would return with food.

She smiled as she thought of what they had shared, of the few hours that had been theirs. On her lips was a smile she couldn’t wipe away. Being with Broc had been wonderful. Amazing. Astonishing.

Just thinking of how his hot, hard body had felt against hers caused Sonya to sigh in pleasure. The way his hands had caressed her, branded her left her with an ache she knew only Broc could quench.

He was simply all she wanted. All she would ever need.

Yet, she had seen the hesitation in his eyes. He might have shared a part of his past with her, but it was a small part. Whatever dark secrets he kept plagued him in ways Sonya couldn’t begin to imagine.

Broc doubted himself, but she didn’t. She had seen for herself the kind of man he was. And if it took her the rest of her life, however long that might be, she would prove it to him.

Sonya adjusted the tartan and looked about the cave. It was only a little past midday, but the rain had kept them inside.

They had spoken little since they had made love. Sonya wasn’t sure what there was to say. She and Broc were worlds apart.

It wasn’t as though Sonya expected anything from him. They didn’t have to worry over a pregnancy either since she used a spell to prevent it. She had gotten what she wanted. Him. For those precious hours they had been the only two people in the world. He had made her feel special and beautiful.

Her body felt different, as if it had awakened after years of slumber.

A slow smile pulled at Sonya’s lips. Aye, Broc had certainly awakened her. She knew she loved his touch, but she hadn’t expected to crave it as she did now. Or hunger for his body against hers.

Sonya absently rubbed her left palm where her wound had been. Her mind was occupied with thoughts of Broc and how he had kissed and touched her body. So, it took a moment for her to realize her magic had healed her completely, leaving not a trace of a scar.

Her magic wasn’t as strong as it once was. It didn’t fill her, infuse her as it had in the past. She had thought to never feel it again, so just knowing it was there, sensing it made her feel better.

She had doubted herself ever since she had been unable to help Reaghan as Galen had asked. Yet, how could she help her fellow Druids with the measly amount of magic she had?

It’s better than having none.

But how much did she have? Her healing took more time than it used to. What about the trees? Could she still communicate with them?

Sonya hurried to change and went to the cave’s entrance. She strained to hear the whispers of the trees. There were few around her, but still she tried.

Heaviness weighed upon her heart when she heard nothing, but she cast it aside. Until she stood in a forest and didn’t hear the trees she would hold out hope.

After all, the wounds on her hands were completely healed.

Her magic had done that. Without her having to command to do it.

She couldn’t wait to tell Broc. He had told her she still had her magic. Maybe it had just been her own doubt which began to decline her magic.

If she was going to help Broc or anyone else in their fight against Deirdre, then Sonya had to trust herself. It was going to be difficult, but as long as Broc believed in her, she knew she could face anything.

As she stood at the mouth of the cave, the rain began to pour again. She could see the mist descend from the mountains and blanket everything. It would make it that much more difficult for Broc to see the mound.

If he was able to see anything at all.

Sonya returned to the fire and added another few pieces of wood. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms in an attempt to warm herself. Her gown wasn’t completely dry, and with the dampness of the cave and the storm, a chill settled in her bones.

She curled up on the tartan and let the heat of the fire lull her.

*   *   *

Broc cursed and cursed again as he flew over more mist. The damned mist had descended as quickly as the rain, and it was everywhere.

Even with his enhanced eyesight, he couldn’t see through the haze. Instead, he had focused on finding food, which he now carried back to Sonya.

He landed outside the cave and used his claws to skin the hare. Broc had expected Sonya to greet him as soon as he landed. He’d found it nearly impossible to concentrate on finding the burial mound when all he could think about was Sonya and her stunning body.

A body which had been under him, opening for him just hours ago.

Broc wanted her again. That instant. He had always known taking her body would make him only crave her more. The fact that she had gifted him with her innocence only added fuel to his need to make sure no other man touched her. Ever.

How will you do that with the curse?

Broc didn’t want to think about the curse. Yet, it wouldn’t leave his mind. He clenched his jaw and finished with the rabbit. Then he stood and shook off as much of the rain as he could before he pushed his god down.

When he walked into the cave his gaze sought out—and found—Sonya. She was asleep on her side, an arm curled beneath her head.

He didn’t wake her as he set the hare up to roast over the fire. Once that chore was done, he sat back and watched her, watched how the glow of the flames danced over her skin and hair.

For once, she had left her hair unbound. Hair he longed to run his fingers through. The thick, untamed curls were at odds with the woman who attempted to keep everything in order. If only she would understand that she couldn’t keep life as tidy as she wanted. Then she might see herself as Broc saw her.

Wild. Wanton.

His.

Broc ran a hand over his jaw. He wasn’t surprised he now thought of her as his. He had taken her. Left his mark on her body. It might not be a mark anyone could see, but Broc knew it. And Sonya knew it.

He had kept his distance from her, never let himself think of her as anything other than someone to watch over.

He should have known that couldn’t last.

Not when someone so lovely and alluring tempted him beyond measure. It was wrong to hunger for her as he did, not after the life he had led and the atrocities he hadn’t stopped Deirdre from committing.

There would be no forgiveness. Broc would have to live with the things he had done. And those he hadn’t.

It was one of the reasons he fought alongside the MacLeods now. It was his way of trying to atone for some of his sins. The rest … the rest he would carry all the days of his life.

Sonya’s eyes opened and met his gaze. She smiled, her face softening. “You’ve returned.”

“Aye. With food, as I promised.”

She inhaled and rolled to her back. “It smells delicious.”

Broc fisted his hands as he watched her back arch and her breasts push into the air as she stretched. She yawned and used her hand to help herself sit up.

“You didn’t find the mound, did you?”

He shook his head and grimaced. “The mist didna help. If I didna know how temperamental the weather in this region was, I’d say Deirdre had something to do with it.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time she interfered.”

“She will interfere this time. Never think for an instant that she willna. However, I doona think she’ll do it until she arrives. It’s why we need to find the mound and be gone before then.”

Not to mention Deirdre now knew there was someone important in his life. It wouldn’t take Deirdre long to realize that someone was Sonya. Deirdre’s arrival would only spur the curse into action.

Sonya had been lucky to be shielded from the things Deirdre had done, and he wanted it kept that way. Sonya didn’t know what Deirdre looked like. Which was fine with Broc. There were enough of them who knew Deirdre entirely too well.

“What are you thinking?” Sonya asked.

“I’m thinking we need the mist to clear,” he lied. “I had hoped by this afternoon we could begin our search again.”

“So we go out in the mist.”

Broc scowled and poked at the fire with his stick. “You doona know the terrain, Sonya. I’ll no’ risk it.”

“It’s my risk. We have to find it, don’t we? The longer we wait, the more time we give Deirdre to arrive.”

He hated that she was right. Hated more that he couldn’t stop her if he tried.

But that’s what drew him to Sonya. Her passion and her desire to do whatever was necessary in order to defeat Deirdre.

Broc just prayed they would find the tomb soon.

TWENTY-TWO

Sonya once again wished she had breeches to wear in place of her gown. With the mist surrounding them in the oppressive grayness, she couldn’t see her hand in front of her face.

“I knew we should have waited,” Broc grumbled from beside her.

She rolled her eyes and pretended not to hear him. He’d a grip on her arm ever since they’d left the cave. Nothing she said would get him to release her.

And though she hated to admit it, she was glad he had a hold of her. Twice already she had stumbled over rocks she couldn’t see, and each time he mumbled something underneath his breath she didn’t quite catch.

“It will get better once we’re off the mountain.”

Broc grunted in response. “What makes you so sure the mound isna on the mountain?”

“Would you like to dig through all this rock?”

There was a long pause before he said, “Nay.”

“I don’t imagine it was much easier in the valleys, but I cannot think of another place.”

Her foot slid off the edge of a rock, causing her to tilt away from Broc. In a blink he pulled her against his bare chest to steady her.

The moment she had felt herself lose her balance, her stomach had dropped to her feet. Sonya listened to the steady beat of his heart while hers hammered in her chest. She clung to him, letting the heat of his skin help to calm her.

Sonya wanted to lay her head on his chest and forget their dangerous mission. She wanted him to fly her somewhere no one could find them where they could spend days, years locked in each other’s arms with nothing of the world touching them.

Instead, she took a deep breath and gave herself another moment to enjoy the feel of Broc’s arms around her, holding her. Shielding her.

“Thank you,” she said, hating how her voice shook. It was probably a short drop. Nothing to be frightened of.

Or you could have taken a tumble down the mountain.

Sonya shivered. Broc’s large hand rubbed up and down her back.

“I should have brought you to MacLeod Castle,” he mumbled against the top of her head.

“There wasn’t time, remember?” But there was something in his voice, something that told her there was more going on inside his mind than he was telling her. “What is it? What is bothering you?”

“You nearly fell.”

She tried to pull back so she could see him, but he held her still. “The rocks are wet. Anyone would slip on them.”

“Aye. But you’re with me.”

The more he talked, the more confused she became. “I’m glad you’re here. You caught me before I could tumble down the mountain.”

He squeezed her tighter. “Shite. Doona remind me.”

“Broc. Enough. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Silence stretched between them, and Sonya could imagine Broc was trying to find a way out of telling her what had him in knots. But she wasn’t going to allow that.

Always there had been a part of Broc he’d kept to himself. A secret part. Whatever that was is what was bothering him now, and she knew it had something to do with his life before he turned immortal. Why it would still trouble him after so many decades was the question.

“Broc?”

“I’m no’ sure you want to know,” he finally said.

“You don’t want to tell me.” It wasn’t a question. She could hear it in his voice.

He blew out a harsh breath. “Nay, but you’ve a right to know since you are with me.”

She wanted to think he meant that she was his, but she suspected he meant because she was there alone with him. “Please. Tell me.”

Another sigh. “I’m cursed.”

She wasn’t sure she heard him right. He couldn’t have said “cursed.” Could he? “Cursed?”

“Aye. Since I was but a young lad.”

“How? Why?”

“The why of it I’m no’ sure. It began when I was eight. A lass drowned after spending time with me. Two years later, when I again took an interest in a girl, the edge of the cliff fell out from beneath her and she plummeted to her death. One died from a mysterious fever that affected no one else. Another got thrown from my horse, which I had trained from a foal. It broke the lass’s neck instantly. There are others as well.”

Sonya leaned her head back to look at him. “And you believe because of these … accidents you are cursed?”

“There isna a female I’ve taken an interest in who hasn’t died within months of me spending time with her.”

“Broc, there has to be another explanation.”

“There isna. It was my grandmother who realized I was cursed. I thought once my god was released the curse would leave me, but it didna. Anice died. I cannot allow that to happen to you.”

The feverish gleam in his eyes made her chest constrict with emotion. “I don’t believe in curses. Nor do I believe being with you will bring upon my death.”

“Sonya—”

“Nay,” she interrupted him. “I was nearly killed by the wolf. You saved me. I walked into Deirdre’s mountain. You brought me out. Without you, I would be dead.”

“That was before I could no’ ignore my need for you. Now … now every moment you are with me I risk your life.”

“Deirdre is coming. She will bring wyrran. She will find us. If you don’t want me to die, then we need to find the tomb before she does. We can discuss this curse later.”

Broc was as stubborn as they came. She could stand there and argue with him for weeks and she knew he’d never budge in his thinking. So she gave him a reason to forget the curse. For now.