Highlander the Dark Dragon (20 page)

Rhys bid Nessa to enter when he heard a knock and as soon as she did, he said, “Leave it. I will see to it.”

Nessa cast a worried look at Heather. She was pale and shivered even with the fire stoked and she wondered what had happened to her. She hated leaving her, but she had no choice. She closed the door quietly behind her.

Rhys filled a goblet and handed it to Heather.

Her hands shook so badly when she took it that Rhys cupped his around hers and helped her drink from it. Afterwards he took it from her and set it on the small table beside her chair.

Rhys did not like that no color had returned to her cheeks and that she continued to tremble. He leaned over and lifted her up into his arms, then sat in the chair, drawing her legs up and tucking her firmly against him.

After a several minutes of stroking her back, she looked up at him and said, “Who would do such a monstrous thing?

“The man I was a slave to for seven years.”

“A slave?” Heather repeated almost choking on the word.

“Aye, a slave, forced to do an evil man’s bidding.”

Fear gripped Heather. “You escaped and now he comes for you?”

“No,” Rhys said, shaking his head. “I won my freedom.”

“Then what does he want from you?”

“What I took from him when I left.”

When he remained silent for several minutes, she asked, “What did you take from him?”

“His wife.”

Rhys had not planned on telling his wife, at least not yet. But he had foolishly let his anger rule, something he had not done in years, and this was the results and a good reason not to let it happen again. He did wonder, though, if his inquisitive wife would make that impossible.

She had yet to respond; she simply stared at him out of shock or disbelief, he was not certain.

So many thoughts rushed through Heather’s head, but only one word spilled from her lips. “Why?”

“She asked me to.”

“Why?”

“Her life was in danger.” Before Heather could ask why again, Rhys pressed his finger to her lips. “I was taken to a land with vastly different customs than Scotland. There, slaves obeyed their masters or suffered horribly for it. Wives suffered much worse fates.”

“Wives?” Heather asked.

“Aye, wives. Masters had multiple wives, all generously provided for unless a wife did not please her Master.”

“What happened?”

“It depended on the situation. Some simply disappeared, sent away to be provided for elsewhere if the wife had not displeased him. Those who displeased him suffered greatly.”

“This wife who you took from him, did she displease him?” Heather asked his story sounding more like a tale than truth, yet it would explain much about what had happened to change Quinn so drastically. And her heart ached for him.

“Not yet, though she feared that she would. You see Haidar, the master, had five children from five different wives and they were all daughters. He wanted a son, demanded a son, and he proclaimed that any daughter born before he was given a son would be killed. So the next wife who got pregnant and gave him a daughter—” Rhys stopped abruptly the horrendous memory not one he wanted his wife to have. “So I agreed to take her and when I bid Haidar farewell, he never knew that his wife was safely concealed in one of the gifts he had bestowed on me.”

“How very brave of you. You saved this woman and her child. Did she have a son?”

“I do not know and she did not want me to know or know her destination once I left her on her own. We both knew what would happen if Haidar came for us. No one could withstand his brutal torture.”

“How long ago was this?” she asked.

“Three years.”

His time spent as a slave plus three years made it ten years, the exact number of years Quinn had been gone. She tucked the thought away and asked, “Why wait three years to come after you?”

“The woman was wise and left a trail that would make him believe that she had run away but had remained in his country. And he would have never thought I had been involved with her disappearance.”

“Why?”

“I have told you enough,” Rhys said abruptly. “Now you see why it is imperative that you obey me. He seeks not only word of his wife and child, but revenge for me betraying him. His attack on us that day, his brutal killing of my two warriors, the culprit in our bedchamber, and now this severed head, is all to show me that I cannot stop him. He will have what he wants.”

She cringed as she spoke. “He reminds you again with the gorged out eyes in the severed head that you will not see him coming. Do you know who the head belongs to and why the head was only left? And where was the head found?”

“Enough dreadful talk for one day,” Rhys snapped. He reached for the goblet of wine and handed it to her.

Her trembling gone and feeling much improved, Heather took the goblet, but did not drink. “If the head was found on your land, then how did the person get passed your men without being seen?”

“Enough!” Rhys ordered. “Now you will tell me why you went into the woods and why you were running after a wolf.”

Heather did not let his shout or demand bother her. She was so very pleased that he had shared some of his past with her, since it helped her to understand how the Dark Dragon came to be born.

She smiled and kissed his lips gently. “Thank you for trusting me enough to share part of your past.”

“Do not think to distract me with kisses,” he said, though the kiss certainly had brought attention to his manhood. “Tell me of the wolf.”

Heather took a sip of the wine and handed the goblet to Rhys and he took a sip as she said, “I was not running after him. I ran behind him to protect him from your warriors. I knew they would not dare draw their bows with me so close to him.”

“A wise conclusion for a foolish action.”

“Not to me,” Heather said in defense of herself. “The wolf needed my help.”

“And you knew this how?”

Heather took the goblet from her husband and sipped slowly.

“Delaying in answering me will not help,” he advised and slipped the goblet out of her hand to place on the table.

“It will delay having you think me a fool.”

He caressed her lower lip with his thumb, not trusting his lips after her gentle kiss had stirred his hunger for her. “Never would I think you a fool, wife—foolish perhaps—but never a fool.”

His response brought a smile to her face and his touch brought flutters to her stomach. Good lord, but she loved this man beyond reason. “Since I was young I had a certain way with animals. They came to me for comfort, help, and love, and I gave it most willingly.”

“Are you saying the wolf came to you for help?”

“I believe he did, for I heard his distress quite clearly, though I had little time to make certain of his trust since your warriors were on my trail so fast.”

“I am glad to hear that.”

“By the time I removed the sliver of wood from his paw, your warriors were there. I tried to warn them away, telling Pitt that the wolf meant them no harm, but to no avail. I had little choice but to protect the innocent animal.”

Rhys took hold of her chin. “You will stay out of the woods and never again let me find you tending a wolf.” The purse of her lips and the tilt of her head alerted him to his mistake. “Let me clarify that. Never again will you tend a wolf whether I see you doing it or not, and I will have your word on it.”

“I will give you my word that I will not go into the woods until this problem is resolved.” She shook her head. “But I cannot give you my word that I will not tend a wolf, if it should prove necessary.”

“Are you forcing my hand, wife?” he asked, giving her chin a squeeze.

“No,” she whispered and placed her hand over his and eased it off her chin, cupping it in her hands. “I do not force you nor can I stop you from the decisions you make. I say again, I wish for truth and trust between us.”

“Truth often times creates problems.”

“Trust often times helps to avoid or solve them.”

Bringing his lips close to hers, he whispered, “Do you trust me, wife?”

“With my life,” she answered without hesitation.

His words whispered across her lips with a hint of a challenge. “You place your life in the hands of the Dark Dragon?”

“I place my life in the hands of the man I love.” She pressed her lips to his before he could move away in anger, knowing once their lips touched there would be no separating them.

Rhys let the kiss go only so far, his passion flaming much too hot, far too quickly, and he could sense hers had done the same.

He tugged her head gently back by her hair. “You are still sore?”

Heather’s hesitated to answer.

His hand dipped under the hem of her dress. “I can find out for myself or you can tell me the truth, since is it not truth that you want between us?”

Heather sighed. “It is, and I have yet to heal completely.”

Rhys removed his hand from under her dress. “There is something I wish to be truthful with you about.”

Heather smiled, pleased that he should do so.

Rhys ran his fingers down along her braid that rested on her chest. “The necklace you wore the other night, it was not me who left it for you.” Her smile faded as Rhys continued. “Haidar gave that necklace to his wife when he found out she was pregnant, certain she would give him a son, since her mother had given her father four sons.”

Heather rubbed her chest, feeling as if it was not the necklace that had touched her skin, but Haidar’s hands.

Rhys took her hand in his aware of what his wife was thinking. “Haidar will never touch you; I will make certain of it.”

Heather smiled and pressed his hand to her chest. “No one will ever touch me but you.”

“You are right about that, for I will kill any man that even dares it.”

Heather wrinkled her brow.

“What is wrong?”

“I think Seamus is right.”

“Right about what?”

“Seamus made mention that one of your own warriors could have turned against you for a price, and with someone having gained access to our bedchamber twice now without being caught I would venture to guess he may be right.”

“Your curiosity combined with your intelligence may prove—”

“Helpful,” she finished with a soft laugh.

Her laughter brought a smile to his face something that had become more frequent with his wife around. And he wondered, or perhaps he more hoped, that she actually had the power to chase away the darkness that had been his constant companion for far too long.

She poked him in the chest. “Tell me you have not considered that one of your men may have betrayed you?”

“He has not betrayed me,” he admitted. “He is loyal to his master Haidar and doing what he was sent to do.”

Heather gasped. “Do you know who it is?”

Rhys shook his head. “I have yet to discover his identity. I have instructed Pitt to engage more with Nessa since she sees much of what goes on in the keep than any other.”

“So that is why he has been seeking her out and talking with her.” Heather shook her head. “I believe it might prove difficult for Pitt, since Nessa does not find him as appealing as she does Fife. I will talk with her if you would like and free Pitt of the chore.”

“No doubt she will speak more openly with you, though lately I do not think that Pitt considers it a chore.” Rhys eased her off his lap and onto her feet, then stood. “I have matters that need my attention. You will remain in the keep until I return.” He held his finger up when she looked ready to protest. “That is light punishment for such flagrant disobedience. I must calm the many tongues you sent wagging with your actions and make sure they know you do not go unpunished.”

Heather did not argue. She had made her choice, knowing there would be consequences to face and she would do it again.

His hand slipped around the back of her neck and with a quick tug he brought her up against him to kiss her. “Hurry and heal,” he said when the kiss was done and he quickly left the room.

Heather sat, before her legs would hold her no more. She thought her desire for him would abate after how many times they had made love last night, but it had not. If anything, it had multiplied tenfold. And his words proved that he felt the same.

She reached for the goblet of wine and drank, wondering what could keep her busy while waiting for his return.

Mary McComb’s solar.

The thought had her hurrying out of the chair and out of the room. Rhys would not mind if she started the search without him since it would confine her to the keep. With no reason to rush, she slowed her pace as she reached the stairs and with each step she took, she thought of what Rhys had confided to her.

She sat after entering Mary’s solar, trying to comprehend what Quinn had suffered all these years. The awful things he must have gone through and what price he must have been forced to pay for his freedom.

Guilt nudged at her, remembering how she had grown angry through the years, thinking he had stopped loving her, thinking he had died, when all the while, he was fighting his way back to her. A tear trickled from the corner of her eye. Her heart had broken and she had thought her suffering unbearable when it had been nothing compared to what he had endured.

She wished that just once she could call him Quinn, let him know that she loved him, had always loved him and always would. She gave herself a few more minutes to cry for what they had lost, then she brushed her tears away. She would not linger in the past. They were here together now and that was what mattered most. She turned her attention on searching for the secret passage.

After an hour or more of examining every part of the room, she sat in the chair again and looked through the few pieces of embroidery in the basket. Picking up piece after piece, she wondered if her mum had helped Mary McComb stitch any of them and the thought of her mum suddenly had her missing her father and sisters.

The day she had been abducted had changed all their lives and in a strange way for the better. Emma and Patience both had found love and their father’s health had improved. She smiled, thinking how thrilled he would be when he discovered that unknowingly he had given her what she wanted most...Quinn.

She sat a few moments more, several yawns attacking her and decided to return to her bedchamber and have a bit of rest. Her eyes caught on the room across the narrow hall as she stepped out of the solar and a thought struck her. What if she was searching the wrong room?

Grabbing the torch from the sconce, she opened the door and entered the room. A musty odor whipped around her and the shadows scurried away from the light as she made her way deeper into the room. She had to step around the many pieces of furniture that had been haphazardly placed in there.

A breeze brushed against her face as she stopped by the lone window. She drew back the heavy tapestry that covered it, surprised to see part of the window broken. Could that be how someone was gaining access to the upper floor, though the height would make it an impossible wall to scale or was it?

She would tell Rhys about it as soon as she saw him. The more she explored the more she realized it would be truly impossible to search this room. There was just too much in the way to do a thorough search. She would ask Rhys to have it cleaned out so they could explore every inch of it.

Disappointed she began to make her way back toward the door when a sudden gust of wind not only blew the torch out with the strength of a giant’s breath, but it also slammed the door shut, leaving her in complete darkness.