The MacGregor (26 page)

She patted him on the shoulder. ‘I'm just ribbing you, boy of mine. You have a lot to take in.'

Relieved, Sean smiled. ‘I'll see you later, then.'

She nodded. ‘Indeed.'

And then he left. Dazed, he wandered through the camp. He had so much to tell Megan, he barely knew where he'd begin.

The ocean boiled and thrashed at Megan's feet. Spray soaked her to the skin. The velvet dress clung like wet kelp to her body. But it barely registered. Her whole being was focused on the dark figure below the water.

And then Megan sucked in her breath as a pair of black ears, a long black face, and two golden eyes emerged. The kelpie swam forward and surged out of the water to stand on a great rock beside Megan. It was so beautiful. Megan's eyes swept over its shimmering ebony coat, the long curling mane and tail and the sculptured proportions of its body. Water ran in rivulets down its long slender legs and pooled at its hooves. The eyes shone brighter than Halloween pumpkins.

Terrified that it might slip away as easily as it had arrived Megan still sang softly as she leapt onto the narrow rock. Close up she noted that her kelpie was a girl. Not a stallion at all. But she didn't care. Her kelpie was perfect.

With trembling hands she eased closer and closer. The kelpie snorted and she glimpsed the red membranes in the aristocratic nostrils. The water horse let out a small whicker and Megan discerned the two rows of sharp teeth. Teeth that would never graze on grass.

Slowly, slowly, Megan sidled closer until she reached out a hand and placed it gently on the wet warm shoulder. The slick coat felt like wet suede. Water dripped from the mane onto her hand. The kelpie stood firm.

Encouraged, Megan moved to her neck. The kelpie pawed the rock. Megan froze and waited. After a half minute she slid her hand over the mare's nose and carefully placed the bit to her mouth.

The water horse opened her teeth, the bit slipped in and Megan lithely passed the headpiece over her ears.

A surge of euphoria swept through her and without thinking she turned, gathered her sodden skirts to her thighs, and vaulted onto the mare's broad back. The beast's head came up and Megan could feel all the great muscles contract beneath her seat.

The kelpie reared, forelegs slashing the air. Megan sat easily and stopped her song. She gathered a handful of the long mane in her hand and waited.

When they took off she was ready. Into the water they plunged with barely a ripple. The ocean closed in over Megan's head. Terror snapped at her heels. Fishes flickered past her face and seals blinked their surprise.

Megan held her breath until black spots swirled before her eyes, and she opened her mouth. Salt water cascaded in. But then her head and shoulders burst into the atmosphere. She coughed and choked helplessly. Finally she recovered enough to look around.

She was on the bank of a small river in a picturesque, green valley. The kelpie picked her way delicately out of the river and up the bank.

‘Megan MacGregor!'

Megan smiled at Rory Wallace. Oh, what a glorious day this was. ‘Good day to you, Rory,' she said sweetly, aware of the stir she was creating in the small encampment. ‘I have come to pay my respects to my fiancé.'

Rory stared at her horse, his green eyes roving from the clinging velvet of the gown, past her wet naked thighs, and to the great beast beneath her.

The travellers pressed forward and the kelpie backed up into the edges of the water. ‘Not too close,' Megan warned. ‘I'm not sure if she's eaten today.'

Rory's mouth fell open. ‘It's a kelpie, by the Gods!'

Megan tried to look nonchalant but gave up. She grinned exultantly. ‘No, Rory Wallace, she is MY kelpie. I have reclaimed from the Campbells that which they stole.'

There was a buzz of excitement through the ranks. Rory smiled. ‘We'd best be celebrating then, Megan MacGregor!' He looked at her slyly. ‘You'll be looking for a likely stallion to stand at stud?'

Megan hadn't actually given it a thought, but immediately knew that he was right. Damn him. ‘Possibly,' she said. But they both knew she was hooked. ‘I'll be away then,' she said.

Rory bowed mockingly. ‘Until we meet again.'

Megan looked up the hill to the house and her heart reached out greedily to Sean. And her wild water horse carried her with all the speed of the north wind.

In the horse yard she stopped. Sean's head popped over the edge of a stable door. ‘What the hell?' he said.

Megan smiled at him, her heart overflowing with love.

When Cordelia arrived at her cousin's, the castle was a ferment of malcontent. Calix was like a caged tiger. His mother, coldly irate.

‘What's wrong?' said Cordelia.

Calix snarled. ‘That feral bitch has been here! Here! In my house. In my room.'

Cordelia was fairly sure she knew who was the cause of Calix's murderous rage, but wanted to be sure. ‘Who, Calix?'

By way of answer he lifted his hand and swept it across the mantelpiece. Priceless china statues and exquisite lamps soared into the air and then smashed on the ground. Calix stamped a Dresden shepherdess into dust. Then he stopped, his chest heaving with rage. ‘That lycan bitch.'

Cordelia nodded. Her guess was spot-on. Megan MacGregor. And she smiled to herself. Sometimes, timing was everything. Calix was in exactly the right frame of mind to receive her glad news.

She sashayed across the flagstones, feet crunching in the glass and china. ‘What would you say, Calix cousin, if I were to tell you that I know where the lycan lives?'

The room went quieter than a monk's cell. Calix's dark eyes scorched her own. ‘I would say — tell me!'

The Mater recovered first. ‘Cordelia, my dear, where are our manners? Would you like a drink?'

Cordelia was delighted. Never before had she been received with such courtesy. She followed the Mater out of the bedroom, down the corridor, up the winding steps of the tower and into the dining room. She sat down at the glossy walnut table. ‘Thanks, Aunt, that would be lovely.'

Minutes later Calix appeared and placed a long-stemmed crystal glass before her. Cordelia's nostrils flared in excited anticipation. She lifted the glass and took a sip. The blood bathed her throat like the elixir of life. Which it was.

Soon Calix and his mother sat facing her. ‘So,' said Calix, now the picture of calm, ‘how did you come by this information?'

Cordelia took another swallow. ‘I have been tracking her motorbike. She is somewhere west of Oban. I suspect the coast. We know there has been rumour of lycan that way for years.'

Calix smiled. ‘Cordelia, this is great news. It should not be hard to sniff out their stink.' He put down his glass and looked at her. ‘For this, I would reward you. What would you like?'

I want Callum, her heart said. But her tongue said, ‘I want nothing, Calix. It is my duty to serve the family. I want no reward.'

‘Prettily put,' said the Mater. ‘But come, my dear, there must be some little thing, some small trinket that would please you.'

Cordelia smiled. ‘I would have the lycan's eyeballs for earrings.'

The Mater clapped and laughed. ‘But of course!' She looked at her son who nodded. ‘You'll stay to dine, of course?'

Cordelia smiled again. ‘I would be honoured.' She relaxed a little and dared to voice a question. ‘When will you go?'

Calix's hand clenched. ‘Tonight. The moon will soon be full. It would be foolish to wait too long.'

Cordelia leant longingly towards him. ‘Take me with you?'

He nodded. ‘Of course.'

‘Will you ride? Take the dogs?'

His face darkened and Cordelia thought she'd said the wrong thing. But then his features relaxed. ‘No. We'll go on foot. The terrain is too rugged for the horses. But we'll take the hounds.'

Cordelia was content. She could not touch the lycan but she could still watch the entertainment. What a merry blood-letting it would be. Callum would be so thrilled when she went to him tomorrow and told him the news. She'd wear her new earrings. How he would laugh. How he would flatter her. It opened up so many possibilities. This time he couldn't fail to see how suited she was to him. And he to her.

She shivered in anticipation. This time tomorrow all her dreams must surely come true.

Sean looked down at Megan's russet head resting on his shoulder. It was dark outside. He knew he should wake her but he felt so at peace he was loath to. His eyes wandered to his oak staff, leaning against the door. It had grown a little longer and had tiny new buds next to the leaves that he suspected might be the beginnings of acorns. Time would tell.

Then his gaze moved to the bottom of the bed, to the dark velvet mass of Megan's gown. Beside it was the bridle, its ivory bit glowing softly in the dim light. The only visible evidence of the mythological beast who had returned to its watery home. It was still hard to believe. Even though he had seen the kelpie with his own eyes. Megan's engagement gift to him. It was mind blowing.

He'd never forget it, not as long as he lived. Awe filled him. Megan had sat astride the great black beast like a goddess. He gently touched her bare shoulder and she sighed and stirred. His heart contracted with love.

But he was troubled. She was delighted, euphoric even, at her besting of Calix Campbell. And he could understand this. After all, a Campbell had killed her mother and probably her father as well. He had asked her if she was worried that her act might put her in more danger. Megan had seemed genuinely surprised at his concern. She wasn't, she said, scared of the Campbells. She wasn't scared of anything. And Sean believed her. And that's what scared
him
.

When he had finally recounted his news, the story of his ancestors, she had been so happy. ‘See Sean,' she'd said, ‘we are fated to love each other!'

And somehow, even while he knew that she spoke the truth, a sense of dread trickled down his spine. No good could ever come of this ancient feud.

His eyes searched her sleeping face. The flawless, pale complexion with the tiny freckles on her nose. The dark red eyelashes that curled onto her cheeks. The full red lips that he loved to kiss and the long pointed ears that never failed to fascinate him. And his heart ached with his love for her. And his mind filled with fear. For he could not bear the thought of living in a world without her.

Frustration filled him then. He was a magician. So they said. His was the Staff Of Life. So they said. But what did it all mean? What good was it if he couldn't tap into this potential. Deep down he sensed that the time would come when he may have to protect Megan. It was like his life had become an hourglass through which the sand was running too fast. He looked at the clock. Seven thirty. Time to make a move. The witches would be waiting at the Jackal and Hide.

Gently he shook her. ‘Wake up, Megan.'

And she was wide awake. Her amber eyes looking into his. Her ears twitching. Pink tongue licking her lips. Her hands roamed freely and he pushed her off reluctantly. ‘Behave. We've got an agenda.'

She stretched and sighed. The sheet fell away and revealed the familiar curves and planes of her lithe body. Sean smacked her lightly and got out of bed.

He dressed and turned to watch her slip the dress over her head. It was still damp. ‘Don't wear that. You'll get a chill. Borrow something of mine. A shirt and jumper would be like a short dress.'

But Megan shook her head. ‘It'll dry. And besides, I never get sick.'

Sean nodded and left it. The stubborn set of her jaw suggested he was wasting his breath anyway. He was touched by her deep desire to wear her mother's gown. The bloodstains had faded but the material was stiff with salt. Soon as she was ready he'd get it dry-cleaned for her.

He handed her a jumper anyway and was relieved when she tugged it over her head. She followed him down the stairs. In the kitchen she browsed through the contents of the fridge, pulled out three eggs and sucked them dry.

Sean took out the frypan and fried up bacon and egg. She put on the kettle and made them coffee. She sat beside him and watched him eat. And stole a bite of bacon.

He grinned. ‘Is there anything you don't eat?'

She pulled a face. ‘Green vegetables. And horse meat.'

The vegetables were hardly a surprise. But horsemeat was — well — meat. ‘Why not horse?'

‘It is sacred. Each clan has a sacred totem. Mine is the fox. But all clans revere the horse.' She pulled a rude face. ‘Even the bloody Campbells.'

Sean mopped up his plate with a piece of bread. Interesting. ‘So, tonight we meet Lydia and Nancy. Take the bike back. Then we go to see your grandfather, right?'

‘And you ask for my hand. Politely,' she said.

And it hit him then. He was going to be married. To a werewolf.

The ride to the city was a blast. Megan enjoyed the way Sean's arms tightened around her waist in terror every time she burned around a corner or overtook some geriatric old fart on a double white line. Serve him right for blackmailing her. She wished she had the strength of character to resist his deal. But he wasn't going to wiggle off the line that easily. Soon they would be wed.

Reluctantly she slowed when they hit the outskirts of the city. It would be awkward to be pulled over by the cops. Not that she couldn't sort it but Sean was moral, in an adorable, but slightly irritating, way. Best play it safe. She'd have to set him on the right road once they were married. Of course, he was a bit more of a handful than she'd anticipated, but she did not doubt her ability to rehabilitate her man.

It was in this cheerful and optimistic state of mind that Megan cruised to a sedate pace and pulled off the road just down the street from the club.

Refreshed by the exhilarating ride Megan jumped off and pulled off her helmet. Her hand patted the bridle strapped over one shoulder. She was really wired tonight. Instinctively she looked up at the sky. But the cloud was heavy and she couldn't see the moon. She could feel her though, big and round and pregnant with promise. Megan smiled.