The Dark Highlander (25 page)

Since her first kiss had been reasonably successful, she decided that practicing saying “I love you,” wasn’t a completely idiotic idea.

As there weren’t exactly a plethora of mirrors around the castle, when she left the gardens, strolled into the great hall and spied the shiny shield hanging on the wall near the hearth, she yielded to impulse, dragged a chair over to it and hopped up, peering at her reflection.

She wanted the moment tonight to be just right. She didn’t want to stutter or stammer around.

“I love you,” she told the shield softly.

It hadn’t come out quite right. It was a good thing she’d decided to practice.

She wet her lips and tried it again. “I love you,” she said tenderly.

“I love you,” she said firmly.

“I love you,” she tried a sexy voice. Reflecting a moment, she decided it was probably better that she just speak normally. She didn’t do throaty well.

Saying it felt
good
, she thought, staring at her reflection. She’d been holding it so tightly inside her that she had begun to feel like a pressure-cooker about to blow her lid off. She’d never been able to keep her feelings to herself. It wasn’t part of her make-up, any more than casual sex was.

She smiled radiantly at the shield, pretending it was Dageus. The three simple words just didn’t seem like enough. Love was so much larger than words.

“I love you, I love you, I love you. I love you more than chocolate. I love you more than the whole world is big.” She paused, thinking, searching for a way to explain what she felt. “I love you more than artifacts. I love you so much it makes my toes curl just
thinking
about it.”

Pushing her hair back from her face, she donned her most sincere expression. “I
love
you.”

“You can have the confounded shield if you love it that much, lass,” Dageus said, sounding utterly bewildered.

Chloe felt all the blood drain from her face.

She swallowed hard. Several times.
Oh, God
, she thought dismally,
was it humanly possible to feel any more stupid?

She shifted awkwardly on the chair, cleared her throat and stared down at the floor, thinking frantically, trying to come up with some excuse for what she’d just been doing. Back rigidly to him, she began to babble. “It’s . . . er, not the shield, um, you know. I wasn’t really talking to the shield, I just couldn’t find a mirror and this is just a little positive reinforcement thingie I do sometimes. I read it in a book somewhere that it boosted self-confidence and . . . er, engendered a general sense of well-being, and it really does work, you should try it sometime,” she said brightly.

She realized she was talking with her hands, gesturing a bit wildly, so she clasped them firmly behind her back.

He remained silent behind her, stressing her out completely, and she began babbling again. “What I’m saying is that I really don’t want the shield. I mean, I think you’ve given me more than enough artifacts already, and I couldn’t ask for anything else, so if you’ll just go away now I’ll resume my exercises. It’s important that one does them alone.”

More silence.

What on
earth
was he thinking? Was he going to burst into laughter? Was he smiling? She peered in the shield, but since she was up on the chair, he was several feet lower than she was and she couldn’t see him.

“Dageus?” she said warily, refusing to turn. If she looked at him now, she might start crying. She’d
so
wanted the moment tonight to be tender and romantic, and damn it all, now if she said it to him tonight, he’d
know
she’d been practicing and he’d think she was a total dweeb!

“Aye, lass?” he said finally, slowly.

“Why aren’t you going away?” she asked tightly.

A long pause, then a cautious, “If you doona mind, lass, I’d like to watch.”

She closed her eyes. Was he making fun of her? “Absolutely not.”

“With all the things we’ve done together, there’s something you wouldn’t let me watch? I think ’tis a bit late to be getting self-conscious around me,” he said. She couldn’t decide if she was picking up a hint of lazy amusement in his voice or not.

“Go. A. Way,” she gritted.

He didn’t. She could
feel
him standing there, his regard an intense pressure on the back of her skull.

“Chloe-lass,” he said then, softly. Tenderly. “Turn around, sweet.”

He
knew
, she thought, absolutely mortified. Nobody would fall for that pathetic excuse she’d made up.

But this wasn’t the moment she’d picked. She’d had it all planned out and he was ruining it for her!

“Chloe,” he repeated softly.

“Oh!”
Something in her suddenly, simply snapped, and she spun about to face him. Plunking her fists at her waist, she shouted, “I love you! Okay? But I didn’t want to say it that way, I wanted to say it just
right
and you
ruined
it.”

Scowling, she leaped from the chair and stormed from the hall.

22

Dageus stood motionless in the great hall.

That had been singularly the most unforgettable moment of his life.

When he was his da’s age—in the event he had the luxury of living that long—he had no doubt he’d still be replaying the vision of Chloe perched on that chair before the shield, practicing how to say she loved him, just right.

At first when he’d come abovestairs to fetch fresh candles for the chamber library, and he’d walked into the great hall, what she’d been doing hadn’t made sense to him. He’d genuinely thought she was gushing over the artifact.

He teased her, and only then had he noticed the tension and misery emanating from her. She’d begun to babble, which was always a dead giveaway that she was upset. When she’d given him her absurd spiel about positive reinforcement or some such nonsense, he’d realized what she’d really been doing.

Practicing how to tell him she loved him.

How utterly adorable she was.

She loved him. She’d said it. Of course she’d shouted it at him, but a man could deal with that when the woman loved him more than the whole world was big.

He laughed exultantly, turned sharply on his heel, and hurried off to catch her. And to tell her that, since he was bigger, he was fair certain he loved her more.

But it didn’t work out quite that way, for he didn’t catch her until she was almost to the bedchamber.

And when he caught her, grasping at the billowing skirt of her gown, he tugged harder than he’d meant to and the thin silky fabric ripped. Clear up the back. And she had nothing on beneath it. Only those luscious shapely legs and the round curves of her beautiful behind. The fabric ripped clean to her nape and his thoughts turned instantly primitive and wild.

She glanced back at him, looking shocked, and though he suspected he should assure her he hadn’t meant to do that, he couldn’t seem to manage a word. Her declaration of love coupled with all that naked rosy skin had rendered him witless.

Growling low in his throat, he scooped her into his arms and planted his mouth firmly over hers.

She was stiff at first, but in a few moments she was kissing him back passionately.

“You didn’t have to rip my dress,” she said plaintively when he let her breathe. “I love this one. Nellie worked on it for days.”

“I’m sorry, lass,” he said somberly. “’Twas an accident, lass. Sometimes I forget my strength. I mean to be gentle but it doesn’t come out that way. Can you forgive me?”

She sighed, but nodded and kissed him again, locking her arms behind his neck as he carried her toward the door of their bedchamber.

“You have, without a doubt, Chloe, the most lovely behind I’ve ever seen,” he purred, shifting her in his arms to splay his big palm over the twin curves of it.

“Oh!” She squirmed in his arms. “I tell you I love you and
that’s
what you say?”

He silenced her with another kiss, and kicked open the bedchamber door.

“And I’d love you even if you didn’t,” he said softly.

She melted in his arms.

“And I think that no man has ever been told he was loved in such a memorable fashion, and I shall always treasure the memory.”

She smiled beatifically. “Really? You don’t think I’m the biggest geek in the world?”

He tossed her to the bed and slipped a dirk from his boot. “I think,” he said silkily, as he gripped the bodice of her ruined gown in his hand and slit it down the front, laying the gown neatly in two halves, “that you are perfect exactly as you are and I wouldn’t change one thing about you.”

He tossed the torn dress from the bed and tugged his shirt over his head.

She watched him with wide eyes, then laughed. “Nell is
really
going to wonder what happened to my dress.”

“I’m fair certain Nellie will never ask,” he said huskily, as he stretched his body atop hers. “I’ve seen a gown or two of hers in the rag heap.”

“Really?” Chloe blinked, pondering Silvan in a new light. He was a handsome man, and it
was
from his genes that Dageus and Drustan had come. Behind his scholarly mien, she suddenly realized, Silvan MacKeltar probably concealed a lot of things.

“Aye. Truly.”

“You have too many clothes on,” Chloe complained breathlessly a few moments later.

He offered her his dirk to cut them off, but she took one look at those snug leather trews and decided there was no way she was letting a sharp blade get near what she knew was inside them.

So she borrowed another of his delicious tactics and undressed him mostly with her mouth.

Chloe was deliriously content. Curled with her backside to Dageus’s front, his strong arms wrapped around her, she was blissfully sated.

He loved her. He’d not only told her, he’d shown her with his body. It was there in the way he stroked her cheek or brushed her curls from her eyes. It was there in his long, slow kisses. It was there in the way he held her in the aftermath.

With that resolved, she was impatient to lay all her concerns to rest. With such love between them, she knew they could face anything together.

She squirmed in his embrace, slipping around in his arms to face him. He smiled at her, one of those lazy, melting smiles he gave so rarely, and kissed her.

Sighing with pleasure, and before he could distract her again, she drew her head back, breaking the kiss. “Dageus, I’m ready to know about the curse now. Tell me what it is, and tell me what you’re looking for.”

He kissed her again, lazily, sucking her lower lip.

“Please,” she persisted. “I need to know.”

He smiled faintly, then sighed. “I ken it. I’ve wanted to tell you, but it seemed you needed a bit more time.”

“I did. So many things happened so quickly, that I felt like I needed to catch my breath or something. But I’m ready now,” she assured him.

He stared at her a long moment, his eyes narrowed. “Lass,” he said softly, “if you tried to leave me, I fear I wouldn’t let you. I fear I would do whatever I had to do, no matter how ruthless, to keep you.”

“I consider myself warned,” she said pertly. “Trust me, I’m not going anywhere. Now tell me.”

He held her gaze a bit longer, silently assessing her. Then, capturing her hands in his, he twined their fingers together and began.

“So let me get this straight,” a wide-eyed Chloe clarified some time later, “you used the stones to go back in time and—oh!
That’s
what that quote in the Midhe Codex meant about the man who takes the bridge that cheats death! The bridge is the
Ban Drochaid
, ‘the white bridge,’ because you can take it backward in time and undo a person’s death. That quote
was
about you.”

“Aye, lass.”

“So you saved Drustan’s life, but because you broke a sacred oath that you’d sworn to the Tuatha Dé, you ended up setting an ancient evil free?”

He nodded warily.

“Well, where is this ancient evil?” she asked, bewildered. “Are you chasing it through the centuries or something?”

He made a sound of dry, dark amusement. “Something like that,” he muttered.

“Well?” she prodded.

“Rather, ’tis chasing me,” he said, nearly inaudibly.

“I don’t understand,” Chloe pressed, blinking.

“Why doona you just leave it for now, Chloe? You know enough to help us search. If, while reading, you find aught about the Tuatha Dé or the Draghar, bring it to my or Silvan’s attention.”

“Where is this ancient evil, Dageus?” she repeated evenly.

When he tried to turn his face away, she cupped it in her hands and refused to let him look away.

“Tell me. You
promised
to tell me it all. Now tell me where the damned thing is and, more important, how do we destroy it?”

Dark gaze boring into hers, he wet his lips and said softly, “’Tis inside me.”

23

Chloe delicately turned a thick vellum page of the
tome on her lap, though she was not really reading it, too lost in thought.

’
Tis inside me
, he’d said, and so many things finally made sense to her. Bits and pieces slid neatly into place, giving her her first real glimpse of the whole man.

He’d told her everything that night, several days ago, as they lay in bed, faces close, fingers laced. About Drustan and Gwen (no wonder Gwen had been trying to brace her!), and about how Drustan had been enchanted and put in the tower. He told her how he’d immersed himself working on Drustan’s future home (and now she knew why he’d sounded so proud of the castle), and about the fire in which Drustan had died. He told her about the night he’d warred with himself, then gone into the stones and broken his oath. He told her that he’d not truly believed in the old legends till the ancient evil had descended upon him in the in-between, and it had been too late.

He told her what the use of magic did to him, and how making love helped him. How he’d gone through the stones to the future, to make certain Drustan had indeed been reunited with Gwen, needing to know that his sacrifice hadn’t been for naught. And how he’d stayed, unwilling to face his clan as he was, hoping to find a way to save himself.

He told her he’d not worn the plaid of the Keltar since, though he’d not mentioned the scrap she’d found beneath his pillow, so she’d not brought it up either. She knew what it meant. She could picture him lying alone in his bed in his museum of a penthouse, in a world that must have seemed so strange to him, staring at it. It had symbolized all his hopes, that worn piece of cloth.

She’d thought him an idle womanizer when she’d met him, this man who was so much more than that!

Now she understood the sensation she’d had on several occasions of an ancient, evil presence: It had always been when Dageus had recently used magic. She understood how he’d breached such impenetrable security systems: with a bit of supernatural help. She understood the quixotic nature of his eyes: They darkened as he darkened. She had an entirely new appreciation for his discipline and control. She suspected that she’d only glimpsed the tip of the iceberg, and couldn’t begin to fathom the battle he was waging every waking moment.

Although he condemned himself for carrying such evil within him, for having freed it to begin with, Chloe couldn’t quite see it that way.

Dageus had done what he’d done out of love for his brother. Should he have cheated death in such a fashion? Maybe not. It did seem to go against the natural order of things; still, if the power to do so existed, well . . . was that not then part of the natural order of things? It was an ethically explosive issue, not because of the act itself but because of the potential for a man to abuse such power, to cheat at every turn.

Yet Dageus hadn’t cheated again. Since he’d broken his oath he’d become the repository for absolute power, and not once abused it. Instead, he’d devoted every moment of his existence to trying to find a way to lay that power to rest.

What was his actual transgression? Loving so much that he’d risked it all. And heaven help her—she loved him all the more for it.

Surely his intent mitigated his action to some extent? Even in man’s court of law, punishment for a crime was meted out in degrees respective of intent.

“It wasn’t as if any of you asked for such power,” she said irritably.

Silvan and Dageus both glanced up from their texts. Since Dageus had confessed everything two nights ago, they’d spent nearly every waking minute in the dusty chamber, determined to find answers.

“Well you didn’t,” she seethed. She’d been quietly fuming about for days, and like every other emotion she felt, she could only hold it in so long.

“Verily, m’dear, I doona think man
should
possess the power of the stones,” Silvan said softly. “I canna tell you how many times I’ve wanted to topple them, to destroy the tablets and the formulas.”

“Do it,” Dageus said intensely. “After we’ve gone again, do it, Da.”

“It would be outright defiance of them, you ken,” Silvan pointed out. “And what if the world—”

“The world should have the right to either prosper or destroy itself, by itself,” Dageus said quietly.

“I agree with Dageus,” Chloe said, reaching for her cup of cooling tea. “I don’t think man should have power he’s not capable of understanding and discovering himself. I can’t help but think that by the time we’re evolved enough to fathom how to manipulate time, we’d be wise enough not to do it. Besides, who can really say that any of the times the stones were used, the outcome was better?”

Dageus had explained to her the only conditions under which they were permitted to use the stones: were their line in danger of extinction, or were the world in great peril. He’d told her of the few occasions they’d opened a gate through time: once to relocate sacred, powerful objects belonging to the Templars, in order to whisk them from the grasp of the power-hungry king who’d destroyed their Order. Yet, who could say that, had man been left to his own devices, he wouldn’t have found another way that would have served as well?

Dageus met her gaze and they shared a long intimate look. There was such heat in his eyes that she felt it like a sultry caress against her skin.
I doona ken how this may end, Chloe
, he’d said to her that night.

When
it ends
, she’d replied firmly,
it will end with me at your side and we will have freed you
.

I love you
, he mouthed to her across the chamber.

Chloe smiled radiantly. She knew that. Knew it more completely than she’d ever thought a woman could know. Since discovering what his “curse” truly was, she’d not wavered in her feelings for him, not for even a moment. What was inside him was
not
him, and she refused to believe it ever would be. A man who could withstand such a thing for so long was a man who was good to the very core.
I love you too
, she shaped the words soundlessly.

They fell silent again, returning to their work with quiet urgency. Though Dageus had not admitted his condition was worsening, both she and Silvan had noticed that his eyes no longer returned to their natural color. They’d discussed it earlier, when Dageus had slipped out to fetch Chloe some tea, and knew what it meant.

They took a brief break when Nell brought the midday meal down into the chamber. Shortly after Nell had cleared the dishes away, Dageus straightened abruptly in his chair. “Och, ’tis about blethering time!”

Chloe’s heart began to pound. “What? What did you find?”

“Aye, speak, lad, what is it?” Silvan pressed.

Dageus scanned the page for a moment, translating silently. “’Tis about the Tuatha Dé. It tells what happened when the thirteen were . . .” He trailed off, reading to himself.

“Read aloud,” Silvan growled.

Dageus raised his gaze from the fifth Book of Manannán. “Aye, but give me a moment.”

Chloe and Silvan waited breathlessly.

Dageus scanned the page and flipped to the next. “All right,” he said finally. “The scribe tells that in the early days of Ireland, the Tuatha Dé Danaan came to the isle ‘descending in a mist so thick it dimmed the rising of three suns.’ They were possessed of many and great powers. They were not of man’s tribe, though they had a similar form. Tall, slender, entrancing to gaze upon—the scribe describes them as ‘shining with empyreal radiance’—they were graceful, artistic people who claimed to be seeking no more than a place to live in peace. Mankind proclaimed them gods and tried to worship them as such, but the rulers of the Tuatha Dé forbade such practice. They settled among man, sharing their knowledge and artistry, and so ensued a golden age unlike any before. Learning attained new heights, language became a thing of power and beauty, song and poetry developed the power to heal.”

“That much is similar to the myths,” Chloe remarked when he paused.

“Aye,” Dageus agreed. “As both races seemed to prosper by the union, in time, the Tuatha Dé selected and trained mortals as Druids: as lawgivers, lorekeepers, bards, seers, and advisors to mortal kings. They gifted those Druids with knowledge of the stars and of the universe, of the sacred mathematics and laws that governed nature, even inducting them into certain mysteries of time itself.

“But as time passed, and the Druids watched their otherworldly companions never sickening or aging, envy took root within their mortal hearts. It festered and grew, until one day thirteen of the most powerful Druids presented a list of demands to the Tuatha Dé, including among them, the secret of their longevity.

“They were told man was not yet ready to possess such things.”

Rubbing his jaw, Dageus fell silent, translating ahead. Just when Chloe felt like screaming, he began again.

“The Tuatha Dé decided they could no longer remain among mankind. That very eve, they vanished. ’Tis said that for three days after they left, the sun was eclipsed by dark clouds, the oceans lay still upon the shores, and all the fruit in the land withered on the limb.

“In their fury, the thirteen Druids turned to the teachings of an ancient, forbidden god, ‘one whose name is best forgotten, hence not scribed herein.’ The god to whom the Druids supplicated themselves was a primitive god, spawned in the earliest mists of Gaea. Calling upon those darkest of powers, armed with the knowledge the Tuatha Dé had given them, the Druids attempted to follow the immortal ones, to seize their lore, and steal the secret of eternal life.”

“So they really were . . . er, are immortal?” Chloe breathed.

“’Twould seem so, lass,” Dageus said. He skimmed the text again. “Give me a moment, there are no comparable words for some of this.” Another long pause. “I think this is the gist of it: What the thirteen did not know is that the realms—I can’t think of a better word—within realms are impenetrable by force. Such travel therein is a delicate process of . . . er, sifting or straining time and place. In their attempt to brutalize or coerce a path between the realms, the thirteen Druids nearly tore them all asunder. The Tuatha Dé, sensing the distress in the . . . weaving of the world, returned to avert catastrophe.

“The Tuatha Dé’s fury was immense. They scattered their once-friends, now bitter enemies, to the far corners of the earth. They punished the evil ones, the Druids who’d chosen greed over honor, who’d loved power more than they’d valued the sanctity of life—not by killing them—but by locking them into a place between realms, giving them the immortality for which they’d lusted. Eternity in nothingness, without form, without cease.”

“By Amergin, would that not be hell?” Silvan breathed.

Chloe nodded with wide eyes.

Dageus made a choking noise. “Och, so
that’s
who the Draghar are!”

“Who?” Chloe and Silvan said as one.

He frowned. “The scribe tells that even before the disagreement with the Tuatha Dé, the thirteen Druids had formed a separate, secret sect within the larger numbers of their brethren, with their own talisman and name. Their symbol was a winged serpent, and they called themselves the Draghar.”

It was Chloe’s turn to make a strangled sound. “A w-winged serpent?”

Dageus glanced at her. “Aye. Does that mean something to you, lass?” he asked swiftly.

“Dageus, that man who attacked me in your penthouse—didn’t you see his tattoo?”

He shook his head. “I saw it, but I didn’t get a good look at it. I doona ken what it was.”

“It was a winged serpent! I saw it up close when he was on top of me in the kitchen.”

“Bletherin’ hell,” Dageus exploded. “It begins to make sense.” He leapt to his feet so abruptly that the Book of Manannán tumbled to the floor. “But . . .” he trailed off. “How could that be?” he muttered, looking baffled.

Chloe was about to ask what made sense and how what could be, when Silvan rose and retrieved the fallen tome. While Dageus paced, muttering beneath his breath, Silvan continued reading where Dageus had left off.

“’Tis said that some time after the Druids were scattered, and the thirteen locked away in their prison, a small band of those who survived regrouped in an effort to reclaim their lost lore. Och, listen to this: An Order arose, founded upon the divination of a seer who claimed the Draghar would one day, far in the future, return and reclaim the powers the Tuatha Dé had stolen from them. Apparently this seer wrote a detailed prophecy, describing the circumstances under which the ancient ones would return, and the Druid sect of the Draghar was formed to watch and await such events that would signify the prophecy’s fruition—” He broke off abruptly, read a few moments in silence, then flipped the page. Then he scanned through the final few remaining sheaves. “That’s it. ’Tis all that was written about it.” He cursed, skimming and reskimming the subsequent pages. Then he snapped the tome shut and placed it aside.

Chloe’s mind was whirling as she watched Dageus pace. She and Silvan exchanged uneasy glances.

Finally Dageus stopped pacing and looked at his father. “Well, that seals it. Chloe and I must return to her century.”

“Doona be hasty, lad,” Silvan protested. “We need to reflect on this—”

“Nay, Da,” he said, his features taut, his gaze dark. “’Tis evident that the man who attacked Chloe was a member of this Draghar sect. Their prophecy must have guided them to me. From what we just read, ’tis apparent they doona have the power of the stones, so they can’t come through time after me. I doona know how to find the sect in this century, but in hers, they know where
I
am.”

“You
want
them to find you?” Silvan exclaimed. “Why?”

“Who else might possess the most detailed information on these beings that inhabit me, than the Druid Order that has preserved their Prophecy all these millennia?” He cast a sweeping glance around the contents of the chamber. “We could waste many moons searching here, to no avail, and I . . . well, let’s just say I’ve a feeling my time is swift being exhausted.”

Chloe drew a deep, fortifying breath. “I think he’s right, Silvan,” she said. “The Keltar have all this lore about the Keltar, it’s logical to assume that the Draghar have an equally large collection of works about the Draghar. Besides, you can continue searching here, and pass it forward to us, if you find something. If I understand this time-travel stuff correctly, anything you find would be waiting for us when we get back.”