To Love a Highland Dragon (28 page)

Later. Once I am certain Maggie is safe. Mayhap I can get the Celts to imprison him somewhere he canna escape.

“Doona forget I am stronger than you,” Rhukon snarled through gritted teeth.

“Correction,” Lachlan snarled back. “Ye used to be, afore I joined my life with Maggie.” He pushed every shred of magic he could at his adversary. Rhukon swayed on his feet. Lachlan ratcheted up his casting. The other mage blocked him.

I canna give up. I must make this work.
Desperation jangled his nerves and soured his stomach. Lachlan dug deep, deeper than he ever had. His body was nothing more than a conduit for magic so strong and so ancient he’d been afraid to tap into it before. Power rolled through him in violent waves.

“Ye can stop. He is down.”
Kheladin’s voice came as a shock. Lachlan had been so consumed by his spell, he’d lost all sense of anything beyond the magic devouring him.
“Send your power skyward,”
the dragon instructed.
“Now.”

Legs shaking, breath harsh in his throat, Lachlan merged his power with the dragon’s. Kheladin’s magic felt almost friendly compared with the vein of arcane wizardry he’d stumbled onto. He glanced at Rhukon’s prostrate form and wondered just how much time he’d bought them.

“No!” Kheladin’s outraged cry shook the earth. “Cowardly bastard.” The skies lit with dragon fire.

Lachlan’s gaze snapped upward, scanning through flames. The other dragon was gone. “What?” he stammered, still so weary he couldn’t think. “Where?”

“Slimy, craven, worthless bastard left. Guess he dinna like the odds.” Kheladin fanned his wings. “To my back. We should leave while we can.”

Grateful at least one of them was still thinking clearly, Lachlan didn’t wait for a second invitation. Once astride Kheladin, he slumped against his neck.

“Ye did well,”
Kheladin murmured,
“but we are far from done.”

“Och aye, and thank ye for that reminder.”
Lachlan laid his palms flat against the dragon’s neck and shamelessly let power flow into him. The pearl-toned time travel tunnel formed around them. Kheladin stopped on the far side of its entrance and fanned his wings to hover. Lachlan tried adding magic to the casting to seal the access point. He wasn’t surprised when most of the power he managed to raise already belonged to the dragon.

Kheladin chortled. “Thank ye for trying. ’Tis the thought I appreciate. There. The gateway is shut. Connor was correct. ’Twas sloppy of me last time, but it never occurred to me they’d be fast on our heels.”

“Doona apologize. At least that bastard is out of the way for now. Connor isna a threat without Rhukon to back him up.”

“Do ye have any idea how long Rhukon will sleep?”

“Nay. Probably only a few hours. Mayhap only a few minutes. I must ask the Celts about the vein of magic I tapped into. ’Tisn’t one I’ve ever found afore, and I doona understand how it works.” Lachlan heaved a sigh and laid his head against Kheladin’s neck. “I tell you, it took every scrap of mage strength I had to control it once I found it. Without you, I fear it might have swept me away.”

“To where?”

“I doona know.”

The rocking that meant they were underway and moving forward through time began. Lachlan welcomed the power flowing through the tunnel and its electric charge. He hoped some of it would sink in and replenish his badly depleted magic. They still had to find Maggie. If Rhukon had caught her in one of his nefarious webs, maybe she’d manage to escape while the dark mage lay unconscious.

Comforted by the thought, Lachlan did everything he could to prepare himself for whatever they’d have to do to free his love.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” Mary Elma snapped. “Keep quiet and shield yourself. We’ll do the rest. Don’t even think of moving outside this circle.”

Being ordered about rankled; Maggie swallowed back her instinctive reaction to protest and adopt a defensive posture. She was plenty scared. The coppery taste of it flooded her mouth. Her heart hammered wildly. The air in the room darkened. When she peered through the murk, it was obvious the Celts were just as uncomfortable as the witches. The gods and goddess bunched in groups of twos and threes, hands raised to rain destruction down on whatever threatened them.

Maybe it’s Rhukon, and we can at least wipe his sorry ass off the face of the Earth.

Fire erupted out of nowhere; small flames flickered in a corner of the room. Smoke filled the air. Maggie coughed and instinctively hunkered closer to the floor where the air would be clearer.

“Enough,” a voice rang out. “Ye’ll suffocate the lot of them, and us, too, if ye burn up all the air feeding your fire.”

“Lachlan!” Maggie sprang upright and stared through the murky air.

“It could be a trick,” Mary Elma warned. Sparks flew from her outstretched hands.

“Aye,” Ceridwen said. “Doona relax your guard.”

The air was so thick with fire and magic it felt like a live thing. The unmistakable sound of wing beats filled her ears.
Kheladin. It’s Lachlan and the dragon, but why can’t they get through?

“Drop the shielding around this room,” Maggie shouted.

“Now why would we want to do that?” Andraste raised a graceful hand to her mouth and coughed into it.

“Because I know I’m right. It’s Lachlan. He’s found us. He and Kheladin, but they can’t get in.”

“Don’t make me laugh, girl.” Andraste smirked. “Ye forget yourself. Ye havena enough magic to keep a toy ship afloat, yet ye’re issuing orders.”

The fire roared into life. A hole formed around it like a ragged doorway that got bigger and bigger. Maggie broke through the witches’ circle and raced forward. She sent her magic ahead of her. Working blind, she urged it to rip whatever was keeping Lachlan apart from her to shreds. A copper wing punched through, followed by the rest of the dragon with Lachlan on his back.

She didn’t understand how she did it, but Maggie launched herself through the air and landed right behind Lachlan. She wrapped her arms around him and held on for dear life. Tears streamed down her face. Coughing, choking, crying, she gasped his name over and over again and showered kisses on his neck, his hair, any part she could reach.

“I know ye’re happy to see him,” Kheladin rumbled, “but what about me?”

“Oh my God, I didn’t mean to leave you out. I love you, too. How could I love one and not the other? I’ve thought of both of you constantly, ever since I realized Lachlan wasn’t in the dressing room in that shop in Fort William.” She unwound a hand from Lachlan and patted Kheladin’s scaled hide.

“Lass, oh, Maggie. Maggie, my love,” Lachlan twisted, tried to hug her, kiss her, but their position was so awkward, body parts just bumped into one another.

The smoky air was clearing. Someone must have opened windows, or worked magic, or done something. Maggie didn’t care. All she wanted was Lachlan’s arms around her, his body pressed close, his lips on hers. “We have to get down, so I can hold you.”

“Aye, lass. Hold tight, and I’ll move us.”

“Before you do that,” she buried her hands in his hair, “I love you. One of the worst parts of thinking I’d never see you again was knowing I’d never told you how much you mean to me.”

He leaned back against her and turned his head. “I love you, too, lassie. Take a deep breath, and we’ll be on the ground in a trice.”

Her legs almost wouldn’t hold her upright when her feet met the ground. “Focus your magic.” Mary Elma’s voice was stern. She hurried forward and inserted herself between Maggie and Lachlan, just bullied her way right between their bodies. “I’ve wanted to meet you for years,” she exclaimed. “Ever since I saw you connected to my granddaughter in a vision.”

“Never mind that.” Ceridwen pressed forward. “Did ye at least kill Rhukon afore ye came back here?”

“Ye must be joking.” Kheladin showered the goddess with steam. “When in the nine hells would we have had time for that?”

“Show a wee bit of respect.” Ceridwen waved her hands to clear the steam.

“Mayhap ye can take care of Rhukon yourself, after ye take a bite out of the Morrigan’s colossal ego,” Lachlan suggested snidely. After a beat, he added, “I put Rhukon to sleep, but he’s likely thrown off my spell by now. When we have a spot of time, I need to talk with you about the magic I used. I doona fully understand it.”

Maggie stared at Lachlan and Kheladin as they traded jibes with Ceridwen; reality sank in. “You’re separate. What happened?”

“Doona fear, we are still bonded.” Lachlan favored her with a rakish grin. “If ’tis all the same to everyone here,” he waved an expansive hand, “I’d like to take my mate to a less crowded location. How far are we from your home, lass?”

“Not so fast.” Mauvreen closed on them. “First, you’ll come by my place, share a meal, and tell us everything.”

“Yes.” Mary Elma beamed at Lachlan. “I want to get to know my grandson-in-law before the two of your retire to a bedroom and don’t surface for a month.”

Maggie couldn’t stop grinning. “Guess we’d better do what they want. It’s the only way we’ll get out of here.” She tapped her grandmother’s arm. “The dragon’s coming, too.”

“Cozy.” Mauvreen tugged her top a little lower. Kheladin leered at her.

“What about us?” Ceridwen asked. Gwydion and Arawn rushed forward. “Aye,” Gwydion said. “We deserve to hear all the juicy details as much as the witches—particularly since ye’re still asking for our help.”

Lachlan blew out a breath. “How about this? We can gather for midsummer at the stones on the Isle of Skye. That shouldna be more than a few days hence. Kheladin and I will tell you what we know, and then we must strategize. Rhukon is still on the loose, powered by Celtic magic from the Morrigan. ’Twill take stealth and cunning to defeat them.”

Andraste clumped forward. “I still think ’twould be best to return Lachlan to the past, so he can kill Rhukon, and be done with it.”

“I doona think so.” Lachlan favored the goddess with a stern glance. “I dinna return only to have ye banish me. Besides, the most I could do is immobilize him—and for a short time at that. ’Twould be far better if ye found a spot to imprison him until the end of time.”

Smoke streamed from Kheladin’s mouth. “We are not leaving—unless and until we choose,” the dragon huffed.

Arawn laid hands on Andraste’s shoulders. “Consider this, sister. Such a strategy might have worked, had Lachlan not found his way back, but we canna ask him to return to the past again. Another problem is it appears Rhukon’s newfound strength extends into whatever time he inhabits.”

“I wasna planning on
asking
Lachlan to return,” Andraste snapped. “I am used to being obeyed—and without question, mind you.”

Other Celts jumped into the fray, each with a divergent opinion.

“Looks like a good opportunity to leave.” Mary Elma poked Maggie. “You know where Mauvreen’s is. We’ll meet you back there.” She and the other witches shimmered; power crackled and flared. In seconds they were gone.

Maggie laid a hand on Kheladin and held out the other to Lachlan who took it. “I’m not very good at this yet, but look into my mind and go where I lead.”

It was neither neat, nor elegant. Maggie tried three times before the Celts’ hall disappeared for good and the walls of Mauvreen’s home wavered about them. “Crap,” she muttered, looking at the witch’s front room. “Kheladin’s too big. I wasn’t thinking.”

“He’s within me for the moment,” Lachlan said. “Both of us guessed he’d never fit in a normal-sized room. We’ve much to tell you, but there will be time for everything now we’ve found each other again.”

She liked the sound of that—it made her heart feel all fluttery—and wrapped her arms around his neck. He closed his around her body, bent his head, and kissed her long and deep. Lost in the kiss, body alight with desire, Maggie started when someone poked her shoulder.
Gran.

“Yes, dear. It’s me. Come into the parlor. Mauvreen’s putting out tea, supper, and an assortment of booze that would lay an army on its back.”

“Before we do that.” Lachlan dug into his sporran. “I brought something special back. ’Tis been in the Moncrieffe clan since Roman times, and it has always graced the hand of the laird’s beloved.” He fumbled with a soft, tanned hide and withdrew the biggest diamond Maggie had ever seen.

Her eyes widened; a hand flew to her mouth. “Oh my God. It’s exquisite. You can’t mean to give that to me.”

“And why not?” Lachlan slipped it onto her ring finger. “Och, and ’tis a perfect fit.” He brushed his lips over hers in the tenderest of kisses and smiled at her.

“But, I couldn’t possibly—” she sputtered, heart so full the love spilled over, painting the room in a luminescent glow that shimmered through her tears.

“Of course you can,” Mary Elma said pointedly. “Come along now. We shall toast your nuptials.”

“Thank ye, kindly,” Lachlan exchanged a meaningful glance with Maggie, “but ’tis truly time for us to take our leave.” He patted his midsection. “I doona know when I’ve been quite so well-fed.”

“You never starve in a witch’s house.” Mauvreen’s dark eyes danced with glee. “It’s a long tradition that started when we lured Hansel and Gretel astray.”