Warrior’s Redemption (8 page)

Putting distance between herself and this man suddenly seemed an excellent idea. She turned her back on him, taking a step toward the table, slowly, hoping she radiated an air of casual confidence. She kept going, one foot after the other, her eyes fixed on the opposite side of the table, wondering at what instant he might reach out to stop her.

“Perhaps you should consider returning to your own chamber now, my lady.”

Perhaps not. Perhaps now she’d get the answers she wanted. With a good six feet and a strong table separating them, she turned to face him again, instantly wishing she hadn’t.

It wasn’t just a naked chest facing her this time. It was the whole of him.

She jerked her head down, fastening her gaze on the tabletop. “You should probably be putting some clothes on.”

Whoever he was, he definitely didn’t have any modesty issues. Not that he had anything to be modest about.
Damn.

“What I should be, my lady, is in bed. Asleep. No standing about in the middle of the night, haggling with some mystery woman who has no name.”

The uncomfortable heat that had started in her cheeks spread over her entire face and radiated down her neck.

“I have a name. It’s Dani.” She kept her eyes focused on the table, memorizing the pattern of the grain in the wood. “Danielle Dearmon. Not that you’ve exactly been all anxious to tell me who you are, either.”

She was all too aware of movement across the room but refused to look. If he was headed her direction, she’d know well enough, all too soon.

“Malcolm MacDowylt. Laird and chieftain of Clan MacGahan. At your service, Lady Danielle.”

He pronounced her name with a roll of the vowels that made her want to hear it again.

After a moment of internal debate, she risked a peek, relieved beyond measure to find he’d wrapped a length of cloth around himself like some medieval Highlander.

“Now that formal introductions have been made, I’d ask again that you be so kind as to make yer way back to yer own chamber so I can get a least a wee bit of sleep before sunrise.”

Wrapped in a plaid, with his arms crossed over his chest in a way that made the tattoo covering his heart appear to pop out at her, he really did remind her of the cover of one of her favorite books. All he needed to complete the picture was a sword.

“Lady Danielle? Are you no listening to me, lass?”

No doubt but that was a Scottish accent she was hearing. Lord, could the night get any stranger?

Accent or not, she reminded herself, he could well be some psycho kidnapper for all she knew, since there was little other explanation for how she got here.

“Please just let me leave. All I want is to go home. I don’t care who you are and I swear not to say anything to anyone.” Pleading with these people never worked in books or movies, but she still had to try.

“Yer free to go anytime you like, though I canna say how far you’ll get in the dark. It’s what I want, as well. For you to go back to wherever it is you belong. But at this moment, I’ll settle for having you on the other side of that door.” He motioned his head toward the door she’d come through earlier. “And come first light, we’ll get Elesyria in here and figure out exactly how to get you home. Will that do?”

Apparently, it would have to.

With an emphatic nod of his head, he moved back to his bed and climbed inside, pulling the curtain shut behind him in what Dani could only describe as a rather forceful gesture. No doubt about it, she’d been dismissed.

Free to go, was she? Testing his offer, she hurried
to the big door behind her and pulled it open to stare into the darkest space she’d ever seen. It could be a closet or the longest hallway in the world—she simply couldn’t tell.

“You’ll take yer candle with you, aye? There’s no a good reason to leave it burning and waste good wax.” The muffled words floated from behind the curtains as if MacDowylt had already snuggled into his covers for the night. “And shut the door behind you. I’ve no fancy for that cold draft whipping through here on this night.”

So he knew the door was open. And he didn’t care.

Her options suddenly felt more limited than when she’d thought herself prisoner. She was free to wander around in a strange place in the pitch dark, but there was no guarantee that would be any better than the room next door.

Shivering from the cold, she picked up her candle and made her way back through the door where she’d first entered, refusing to give that man the satisfaction of a response.

Back inside her own “chamber,” as Malcolm had called it, Dani looked around. There was still the second, untried, door.

As soon as she opened it, she realized it was more likely hallway than closet. Facing the same direction as the big door in the next room, it opened into the same dark, cold space. She held her candle out in front of her and confirmed her assessment in its wavering light.

Stepping back inside, she shut the door, pulling
the wooden bar down across it as a final measure. A glance to the door separating her room from Malcolm’s confirmed there was no bar to secure that entrance, so she settled for dragging one of the heavy wooden chairs up against it.

There. That should serve her purpose.

She pulled one of the covers from her bed and wrapped it around her like a cocoon before dropping down on the hearth next to the fireplace. Though the stones weren’t particularly comfortable, it would at least be a warmer place to wait for morning than sitting at the table.

Wait, not sleep. There was no way she could ever close her eyes and relax in this place.

W
ITH THE CLOSING
of the second door, Malcolm sighed, feeling the first modicum of relief he’d known in the past twelve hours.

Danielle. Dani.

Her name was as uniquely lovely as the woman herself.

Not that he cared. He didn’t. He had less use for the woman than he would have had for a horse with three legs. She was nothing to him but another burden on his already overloaded back.

He punched his pillow hard, wadding it into a ball under his head even as he jerked at his covers in a vain attempt to find his own rest.

She wanted to go home, did she? Wherever home was. At least that much was a relief. From the way Elesyria had fluttered around her when they’d arrived here hours ago, he’d feared that might not be
the case. That damned Elven mother-in-law of his had all but declared the newcomer was here to stay and his responsibility to boot.

He rolled to his back, staring wide-eyed into the inky dark above him, his thoughts captured by the woman called Dani.

Likely she was some pampered elder daughter from a well-to-do family. She certainly didn’t have the look of either a Tinkler or a starving peasant. For a fact, she seemed adequately filled out from having enjoyed a bountiful table wherever she’d come from. Filled out in all the right places, at that.

It was also fact that she had not the least bit of good sense about her, else she’d not have wandered into the stone circle so far from anywhere.

Though she had spirit. He’d give her that. He touched a finger to the sore spot on his jaw and smiled. She packed a fine wallop, too. And she was fair enough to look at, with her fine long hair the color of a winter sun and her curves that called out to a man.

It was those curves backlit as they’d been by the glow of the fireplace that had sent him scurrying like a frightened squirrel for his plaid, lest she spot evidence of just how fair his eyes found her.

Trouble,
Patrick had named her and in truth his brother had the right of it. All women were trouble of the sort with which he had neither the time nor the patience to be bothered. Lucky for him this one seemed as anxious to be back where she belonged as
he was to have her returned there. A very fortunate thing indeed, since he had more than enough trouble of his own. His people faced a long, hungry winter while his sister faced death or worse at the hands of their own brother. Compounding his problems, he had no idea whether or not his only ally would send men to his aid when the time came to go to battle against that brother.

And now he had this snippet of a female thrust into his care, requiring his time to see to her well-being, distracting him from the tasks that required his attention and planning.

Indeed, it was one very happy man he’d be as soon as he handed her over to those who rightfully bore the responsibility for her safety. He didn’t need the burden of seeing to any woman’s protection. His own history had already proven him to be a failure on that count.

On the morrow, they would straighten out their mystery and by sunset, he would have one less worry on his mind, because this Dani would go home.

I
DON’T BELIEVE IT’S
possible for her to return to her home at this time, regardless of what either of you wants.” The petite redhead who’d spoken smiled sweetly before popping a bite into her mouth.

It was partly the promise of food that had enticed Dani out of her room this morning, but now that it sat in front of her, she feared she’d gag if she tried to eat even a single bite.

“What?” At the far end of the table, Malcolm MacDowylt leaned forward, his voice a low, determined rumble, as if he fought to keep his emotions in check. “What do you mean,
no possible
?”

Funny. That was pretty much the same thing Dani wanted to know. That and how she’d gotten here in the first place. Lord knew she’d racked her brain trying to remember anything that might give her some clue to that one.

She’d awakened on the floor this morning, neck stiff and back aching, to find a beautiful young woman standing over her. There’d been a brief discussion about how the woman, Elesyria she’d called herself, had managed to get into the room, since Dani had been sure she’d
put the bar in place before going to sleep. Brief, because Elesyria had refused to answer, instead fluttering a hand at what she’d called the irrelevance of Dani’s concern.

There’d been an equally futile discussion over the clothing she’d brought Dani to wear, a complicated mixture of baggy underdress and jumper-like overdress, all tied together without benefit of zippers or snaps or anything the least bit sensible.

Sitting here now, her stomach ready to heave, Dani regretted not having had more backbone when she’d first met Elesyria. She should have insisted on getting her answers right then and there before leaving her room.

But no. She’d ignored her better instincts and allowed the lovely Elesyria to lead her downstairs where, she was assured, breakfast and answers would be served up.

“Answer me, woman!” Malcolm demanded, emphasizing his displeasure by pounding his fist to the table.

Dani jumped at the noise, only mildly reassured that she wasn’t the only one whose patience wore thin.

Next to her, Elesyria smiled, first at him and then at Dani, before daintily placing a bite into her mouth. “Your cook does such a nice job seasoning this porridge.”

Malcolm rose slowly to his feet, his weight braced on his arms as he leaned against the table, glaring at the woman next to Dani.

He was even more impressive in broad daylight, fully clothed, than he had been last night. And that took some doing, because, for a fact, he’d been pretty impressive in the glow of the firelight, less than fully clothed. Much less.

The memory brought an unwelcome heat to Dani’s cheeks and she fastened her eyes on the bowl in front of her. A bowl made from bread.

“Cease yer games, Elf, and answer the question.”

Dani turned her attention to the man seated at Malcolm’s side. He looked so much like Malcolm, she had little doubt that they were related. Elesyria, on the other hand, looked nothing like either of them, and yet they all seemed to know each other well enough, as if they were family. Well enough that that this one had used a nickname for her.

What was it he’d called her? Elf?

“Hold yer tongue, Patrick.” Malcolm didn’t bother to look at the man next to him, keeping his focus on Elesyria. “Why is it no possible for Danielle to go home?” Malcolm asked the question slowly, emphasizing each of the words, his voice laced with a dangerous edge.

If he’d spoken to her in that manner, she’d be telling him everything she knew right now. If she had the answer, that is.

Beside her, Elesyria made a sound, low in her throat, as much growl as sigh. Her gaze fixed on Patrick, she spoke directly to him, ignoring Malcolm as if he’d never spoken.

“Had my ancestors remained under the dominion
of your ancient gods, I might well be called Elf. As they did not, I would thank you to use the correct appellation for me. I am Faerie, Northman. Not Elf, Faerie. I’d thank you to get it straight.”

Faerie?

Dani’s already sensitive stomach lurched. Elf hadn’t been a nickname at all but an accusation of what she was.

Faerie.
It couldn’t be true. Couldn’t be.

She reached for the mug in front of her, squeezing her fingers tightly around the pottery as if to save herself from drowning.

But if it were true, it would explain so much.

Elesyria dusted her hands together and then wiped her fingertips on the cloth covering the table before turning her attention to Malcolm and his question.

“Dani can’t go home because the Goddess sent her here for a purpose.” She lifted her mug, catching Dani’s gaze over the rim. “A boon granted cannot be rejected.”

“A boon . . .”

The whisper escaped from Dani’s lips without conscious thought. She’d always believed in her heart that the Faeries had some higher purpose for her. And the last thing she could remember before waking up here was standing in the little circle of stones she’d built, insisting that the Faerie Queen set her on the path to find that higher purpose.

“Oh my God.”

After all those of years of believing, of waiting for some sign, any sign at all, she finally had her proof. She’d been right. Faeries did exist. They were really, truly real.

She hardly noticed she’d risen to her feet. Faeries were real and they had answered her at long last.