The Dark Highlander (30 page)

As she and Drustan had both suspected, Dageus had been honorable to the last—he’d tried to kill himself. “You were going to die and
leave
me,” she hissed, thumping his chest with her fist. “I could almost hate you for that.” She sighed gustily, knowing she loved him for it too. His honor was an integral part of him, and she wouldn’t have him any other way.

“Believe me, lass, ’twas the most difficult thing I’ve ever forced myself to do. Bidding you farewell nigh ripped my heart to pieces. But the alternative was releasing something that might ultimately destroy—not only the world—but you as well. Think you I didn’t suffer a thousand deaths fearing what the Draghar might do to you if I failed to die before they took me over? Verily, I never want to endure such fears again.” He ran his hands up her arms, swept them into her hair and kissed her hard and demanding, his tongue gliding deep.

When they were both breathless, she said, “So what happened then?” She traced her fingers over his face, savoring the feel of his rough, unshaven jaw, the softness of his sinfully sensual lips. And oh—the sight of those clear, golden tiger-eyes with no shadows!

He told her that he’d used magic to rob her of vision and hearing so she wouldn’t be forced to watch him change and die. A mere moment after he drove the knife into his heart, a man and a woman—of sorts—had appeared. The Tuatha Dé Danaan themselves.

“The Tuatha Dé came? You actually
met
them?” Chloe nearly shouted.

“Aye.” Dageus smiled at the expression of insatiable curiosity on her face. He suspected he’d be forced to repeat this portion of his story dozens of times over the next fortnight, so she could be certain she hadn’t missed a single detail. “They did something to the fallen sect members that made them disappear. I’ve no idea where they went. My chains fell away and the next thing I knew, they’d taken me somewhere . . . else. I was dimly aware that I was lying on a beach near an ocean in a place that was . . . unlike any other place I’ve ever been. The colors around me were so brilliant—”

“What about
them
?” Chloe exclaimed impatiently. “What were the Tuatha Dé like?”

“Not human, for a certainty. I suspect they truly doona look like us at all, though they choose to appear in a similar fashion. They are much as the legends describe them: tall, willowy, mesmerizing to behold. Verily, they are difficult to look at directly. Had I not been bleeding and so weak, like as not, their appearance would have fashed me far more than it did. They were immensely powerful. I could feel it in the air around them. I’d thought the ancient Druids possessed of great power, but they were mere dust motes compared to the Tuatha Dé.”

“And? What happened?”

“They healed me.” Dageus then explained what they’d done and why.

The woman had identified herself as the queen of the Tuatha Dé. She’d said that, though he’d broken his oath and used the stones for personal motive, he’d absolved himself by being willing to take his own life to prevent the Prophecy from being fulfilled. She’d said that by his actions, he’d proved himself worthy of the Keltar name, and hence was being given a second chance.

Dageus smiled wryly. “You should have seen me, Chloe-lass, lying there, believing that I was dying and never going to see you again, then realizing not only was she going to free me, but she planned to heal me and return me to you.” He paused, pondering what else had transpired, but he couldn’t think of a way to explain it because it hadn’t made full sense to him.

He suspected it never would. There’d been a thick tension between the queen and the other Tuatha Dé, whom she’d called Adam. As he’d lain there, the queen had instructed Adam to heal him, but Adam had protested that Dageus was too near death. Adam had argued that it would cost him too much to save the mortal’s life.

The queen replied that such was the price she was claiming due for the formal plea Adam had lodged—whatever that had meant.

The male Tuatha Dé had not been pleased. Verily, for such an otherworldly being, he’d seemed mortally horrified by her decree.

“What? What aren’t you telling me?” Chloe said impatiently, cupping his face with her hands.

“Och, ’tis naught, lass. I was just thinking there were undercurrents betwixt the two Tuatha Dé that I didn’t fathom. At any rate, Adam healed me and the queen lifted the souls of the Draghar from my body and destroyed them.”

Chloe sighed happily. “Is that when she closed the stones?”

“Aye. She said she’d reconsidered and decided the power to move through time was not one man should yet possess.”

“So why did it take you so long to get back here?”

“Chloe-love, for me, but a few hours have passed since that moment in the catacombs. Only when you told me that it’s been nearly a month, did I understand what the queen meant when she said that time didn’t pass the same way in our realms.”

“So that part of the legend is true too!” Chloe exclaimed. “The ancient tales claim that a single year in the Tuatha Dé’s realm is roughly a century in the mortal world.”

“Aye. Theirs is a different dimension.” He paused, staring down at her with a troubled gaze. He took in the sight of her swollen eyes, her reddened nose. “Och, lass, you’ve been grieving me for a long time,” he said sadly. “I wouldn’t have had such a thing happen. What did you do?”

“I waited with Gwen and Drustan and—oh! We have to call them!” She tried to squirm from his lap for the phone, but he tightened his arms around her, refusing to let her go.

“Anon, love. I’m so sorry you suffered. If I’d known—”

“If you’d known, what? If this is what had to happen so I could have you back, I don’t have a single regret. It’s okay. You’re
here
now, and that’s all that matters. I couldn’t ask for anything more.”

“I could,” Dageus said quietly.

Chloe blinked, looking confused and a bit wounded.

Dageus kissed her tenderly. “I’ve been wanting to ask you this for so long, but I feared I may not have a future to promise you. I do now. Will you marry me, Chloe-lass? Here, at this moment, in the Druid way?”

And so commenced one of the most thrilling hours of Silvan MacKeltar’s life. He sat across from the queen of the Tuatha Dé Danaan and renegotiated terms. It was fascinating; it was frustrating because she would tell him nothing of herself; it was exhilarating. She was clever, and immensely powerful, tenfold what he’d sensed in the Draghar.

There was no need to ask that the power of the stones be removed from their duties, for he’d felt them close shortly after Dageus had left. The ancient circle of stones had felt abruptly dead. Void of energy, left with a mere brush of presence that made them seem slightly more
there
than the surrounding landscape. When he inquired about it, she merely said that she’d reconsidered the Keltar’s duties.

They squabbled a bit—he squabbled with the queen!—over a few minor points. Mostly because it was rather like a game of chess and finessing for the advantage was as much a part of her nature as it was his.

Gold was required, the amount unimportant, the queen told him, as it was simply a token, to be melted and added to the original Compact. Naught else was at hand, so he pledged the ring Nellie had given him on their wedding day.

Though she’d steadfastly refused to answer any of his questions about their race, she advised him that henceforth she would personally attend one Keltar in every generation so they would never lose sight of their place in things again.

And so The Compact was pledged anew and the responsibility of the stones was bid a grateful farewell, to be suffered again only on the day—and Silvan hoped it would not come for a very, very long time—that man discovered such dangerous secrets on his own.

When all was done and the queen had vanished, Silvan went in search of Nellie.

He had so much to tell her, yet first, there was an entirely different matter weighing heavily on his mind. In that moment he’d thought he was dying, he’d realized what a fool he’d been. He had to try. He had to at least offer, and let Nellie choose whether or not she wanted him forever.

He found her in their bedchamber, fluffing the pillows, preparing for bed. In his eyes, there was no woman more beautiful. In his heart, there was none more perfect.

“Nellie,” he said softly.

She glanced up and smiled. It was a smile that said she loved him, a smile that beckoned him to join her in their bed.

Hurrying to her side, he plucked the pillow from her hand and tossed aside. He wanted her full attention.

And now that he had it, he found himself unaccountably nervous. He cleared his throat. He’d prepared, he’d rehearsed a dozen times what he was going to say, but now that the moment had come, now that he was gazing into her lovely eyes, it all seemed to have fled his mind. He ended up beginning rather badly.

“I’m going to die before you,” he said flatly.

Nell gave a little snort of laughter and patted him reassuringly. “Och, Silvan, where do ye come up with yer—”

“Hush.” He laid a gentle finger against her lips and kept it there.

Her eyes widened and she gazed at him inquiringly.

“The odds that I will die before you, Nellie, are significant. I would not have you grieve me. I ne’er offered my first wife the binding vows because she was not my mate, and I knew it. I ne’er offered them to you because you are my mate, and I knew it.” He paused, searching for the right words. Her eyes were huge and round and she’d gone very still.

“That is without a doubt the most discombobulated bit of logic ye’ve e’er spouted, Silvan,” she finally whispered against his finger.

“I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving you alone, bound to me.”

She took his finger from her lips and slipped her hand into his. “I could bear any number of years, Silvan, if I know we’ll meet again.”

“Do you mean that? Truly?”

“How could ye doubt it? Have I not shown ye my love?”

Och, in so many ways, he thought, exhilarated. And it was nigh time he show her his. Gently, Silvan placed his hand between her breasts, above her heart, and rested his other above his own. “Place your hands atop mine.”

She glanced down at his hand and her eyes narrowed. “What happened to yer ring?”

“’Tis no band of simple metal that holds us together, Nellie. ’Tis something far greater than that. As to what happened to my ring, I gave it to the queen of the Tuatha Dé Danaan when she came and told me Dageus was alive and well, and free at last.”

“What?” Nellie gasped.

“I’ll tell you all anon.” Silvan said impatiently. Now that he’d made up his mind to take the binding vows, he was desperate for her answer. He didn’t want to waste another moment. He was frantic to claim her, lest something awful happen, like his heart give out before he could complete the vows. “Will you be saying the words after me, lass?”

“Och, life with ye is ne’er simple, is it?” she exclaimed. Then she smiled radiantly. “Aye, Silvan. I’ll be saying the words.”

Silvan’s voice was firm and deep. “If aught must be lost . . .”

“So, how does one marry a Druid?” Chloe asked breathlessly. She couldn’t stop touching him, couldn’t believe that he was alive, that she had him back and everything had worked out.

With a finger beneath her chin, he tipped her face up for a soft kiss. “It’s fairly simple, really. You nearly did it once,” he said, flashing her a smile. A smile that fully reached his golden eyes, filling them with warmth. A smile that promised heated lovemaking the moment they completed his Druid rites. And she was definitely in need of some heated lovemaking. She felt as if she might burst from happiness.

His words penetrated a bit belatedly. She frowned, perplexed. “I did?”

“Aye.” He placed one hand over her heart, the other over his own. “Place your hands atop mine, lass.”

When she complied, he kissed her again, this time slow and sweet, holding her lower lip hostage for a long, delicious moment. Then he said, “Repeat after me, love.”

She nodded, her eyes sparkling.

“If aught must be lost, ’twill be my honor for yours . . .”

“I am Given,” Nellie said, blinking back tears. Emotion swelled inside her, crashing through her like an ocean wave, and she might have fallen to her knees had Silvan not caught her in his arms.

“Aye, lass, now you’re truly mine,” he said fiercely. “Forever.”

“You
married
me that day in the heather?” Chloe shouted. “And you didn’t tell me?
Ooh
! We are going to have to have a
serious
talk about how we communicate!” She scowled up at him. “And while we’re on that subject, we still haven’t discussed you leaving that night without telling me!”

“After the loving, lass,” Dageus purred, lowering his dark head to hers. “There will be plenty of time to speak of such things then.”

And the loving, he vowed, as he slipped her sweater over her head, was going to take a very,
very
long time.

He was no longer dark; time was no longer his enemy. He’d claimed his mate, and the future loomed ahead of them, resplendent with promise.

SOURCES

The Celts
, Juliette Wood, Duncan Baird Publishers

Heroes of the Dawn
, Fleming, Husain, Littleton and Malcor, Duncan Baird Publishers

The Book Before Printing
, David Diringer, Dover Publications

The Alphabet
, David Diringer, The Philosophical Library, Inc.

Illuminated Manuscripts
, Christopher De Hamel, Phaidon Press Ltd.

The World of the Druids
, Miranda J. Green, Thames and Hudson, Ltd. London

Caesar Against the Celts
, Ramon Jiménez, Castle Books

Dictionary of Celtic Mythology
, James MacKillop, Oxford University Press

How the Irish Saved Civilization
, Thomas Cahill, Doubleday

Irish Legends
, Iain Zaczek, Collins & Brown, Ltd.

Dear Reader:

Many of you have written to ask me if there is a particular order in which one should read my Highlander novels, and how they are connected. I’ve written each of them to stand alone, yet I suspect the reading experience is richer if they are read in the following order:
Beyond the Highland Mist, To Tame A Highland Warrior, The Highlander’s Touch, Kiss of the Highlander,
and
Dark Highlander.

The novels are all connected to varying degrees. Adam Black, of the Tuatha Dé Danaan (pronounced “tua day dhanna”
*1
), appears in
Beyond the Highland Mist, The Highlander’s Touch,
and
The Dark Highlander
. Dageus’s twin brother, Drustan, is the hero of
Kiss of the Highlander.

The hero of
To Tame A Highland Warrior,
Grimm (Gavrael Roderick), is the best friend of the hero in
Beyond the Highland Mist,
Hawk Douglas. Adam Black knows there’s more of a connection than that, but Adam’s not talking.

I’d originally intended to write Adam Black’s story next, however, I’ve found myself temporarily detoured by another story. I do plan to return and tackle the millennia-old, fascinatingly complex antihero Adam.

So what’s next for 2003? Here are a few key ingredients of the work in progress: a stubborn, intelligent heroine who gets drawn into a quest against her will when she comes into possession of a most unusual artifact; a powerful, mysterious, darkly sexual Highlander who is trying to help her . . . or kill her . . . ; and a fascinating mystery, the key to which has been hidden for centuries in an ancient Scottish chapel.

If you’re itching for a hint about what’s in store for Adam, Dageus’s thoughts about the undercurrents between the two Tuatha Dé Danaan, when the queen told Adam to heal Dageus and Adam protested that it would “cost him too much” because the mortal was so close to death, were most apt:

The male Tuatha Dé had not been pleased. Verily, for such an otherworldly being, he’d seemed mortally horrified by her decree.

Mortally
being the key word there.

All my best,
Karen