Dark Sword 05: Shadow Highlander (9 page)

Nessa frowned. “Trying to determine just how many Druids are still left in Scotland isn’t something anyone can do except maybe Deirdre.”

Reaghan seized the opportunity and sank into the chair opposite Nessa. “This artifact Galen seeks that they say is in our village, why have I never heard of it?”

“It is something we keep private and divulge to only a few.”

“There are only twenty-three of us left. How few do you need?”

The elder shook her head and looked away. “Why do you want to know about this artifact?”

“Because I’m curious. Because I’ve been living here for ten years and knew nothing of it. How is that? Do you not trust me?”

Nessa laid a hand atop Reaghan’s. “We do trust you, Reaghan. You are one of us.”

“If you trusted me then I would know of this artifact. It has to do with my memories being gone, doesn’t it?”

Nessa looked away again, which was answer enough.

“You won’t tell me, will you?”

“I’m afraid not,” Nessa replied.

Reaghan pulled her hand out from under Nessa’s and stood. She hadn’t expected to come away with all the answers to her questions, but she hadn’t thought to leave without some kernel of information.

“I will leave you then,” Reaghan said.

She left before she said something she would regret. For so long she had considered these people her family, the ones who would always be there for her.

What had happened in her past and the memories that were closed to her? Had she done something terrible? Her mind raced, imagining scenario after scenario. She thought of the worst and tried to picture herself taking someone’s life.

There was no way she could have done such a thing. But then again, she didn’t know the person she had been before the fever.

Before her memories were taken from her.

Reaghan’s mind was in a whirl of chaos. For an instant, she felt as if she might break into a million pieces, her heart wrenched from her body.

And then she heard it, the sweet, lilting melody.

Oftentimes they were able to hear the music coming from MacIntosh Castle. The sounds carried swiftly over the loch, making Reaghan almost feel as if she were in the castle herself.

She let herself drown in the music, let it quiet her battered soul. The melody from the flute was one of her favorites, and it never failed to seep deep into her bones.

Reaghan forgot her agitation, forgot her anger, and walked toward the loch. What better way to ease her soul than listening to such splendor?

EIGHT

After leaving Odara’s, Galen wandered aimlessly before he found himself once more at the loch. He told himself it was because he loved the quiet beauty of it, not because he was searching for Reaghan.

But he knew it for the lie it was.

He didn’t want to fight the attraction, the deep yearning that tugged at him. If he didn’t battle it, he would end up touching Reaghan, and then everything would shatter when he saw into her mind.

Reaghan deserved better. Her mind shouldn’t be violated, her secrets shared, her innermost feelings exposed for him to see. She was too pure, too exquisite to be marred by what he was.

He had already destroyed one woman before he had realized just how potent his powers were. Galen couldn’t—and wouldn’t—do that to Reaghan.

All the same, his body screamed for release, for Reaghan. His cock ached to bury deep inside her slick heat. His body cried out to feel Reaghan’s skin, to breathe in the scent of her hair, to taste her essence. Just to hold her.

Galen had never felt such yearning, had never known such hunger for a woman. Her smile. Her gray eyes. Her radiant, auburn locks. It took but the barest of thoughts to conjure her in his mind.

How he wanted to be able to draw her into his arms, to press her against him and feel the crush of her breasts.

How he longed to sweep aside her hair to expose her neck so he could kiss the delicate, sensitive skin at his leisure.

How he craved to cover her lips with his and explore her mouth until he was drowning in her.

How he desired to thrust into her wet heat, to see and feel her climax beneath him.

All without ever knowing what was inside her mind.

Galen lowered himself between the roots of an oak and leaned against the massive trunk with a resigned sigh of what could never be. The gentle, constant lapping of the water against shore lulled him. He hadn’t slept the night before, and he could feel the weariness creep over him.

His gaze lifted to the heavens, to the millions of stars that winked down at him and the crescent moon that shed its light over the loch.

Then the music began. The sound of the flute was as lovely and special as Loch Awe, but it wasn’t until the bagpipes joined in the haunting melody that Galen truly enjoyed it.

He leaned his head back and breathed the magical air of Loch Awe. He might be leaving the village without the artifact, but he had found a special beauty in the loch, one that resonated with his soul.

It wouldn’t defeat Deirdre, but if he was ever captured by her again he knew what memories he would call up to help him through the lengthy, bleak hours of eternity.

Loch Awe. And Reaghan.

As if his thoughts summoned her, she moved out of the shadows, as graceful as a feline, as ethereal as an angel. She stood at the loch’s edge, the water touching the hem of her gown as she swayed with the music coming across the water.

The melody began soft and sweet, but grew in tempo until the sound echoed evocatively around the loch. When it came to a crashing end, Galen wanted to call out for more.

He never uttered a sound, but Reaghan turned her head and looked at him. He didn’t move, afraid he would scare her off.

“Galen.”

Her velvety, gentle voice whispering his name left him struggling to pull a breath into his lungs. It was the way she said it, breathily, sensuously, with a hint of surprise, that had his blood burning and the passion he struggled with roaring to life once again.

“I often come to listen to the music,” she said when he didn’t speak. “Have you ever felt so isolated from the world that you wanted to scream?”

Galen knew exactly how she felt, had experienced that emotion many times in his two hundred and fifty years of immortality. “Aye.”

“What do you do about it?” She turned to him, her gaze searching his.

“Pray that I can make it through.”

Her brow furrowed and the tip of her tongue peeked out to lick her lips, sending a jolt of longing shooting straight to Galen’s cock.

He bit back a moan, thankful he was sitting down because he feared his legs wouldn’t have held him. His fingers bit into the bark, and he felt the tips of his claws sink into the tree.

“I fear I will succumb to this feeling,” Reaghan said. “My past is blocked to me. I know nothing of my family or why I’m here. Mairi knows. Yet she will not tell me.”

Galen tamped down his passion and focused on anything but the lovely beauty standing with the moonlight shining upon her auburn curls. “Mairi must have a good reason for keeping your past secret.”

“I found a parchment with ancient writing on it, writing that I can read.”

Galen raised a brow. “I doona understand.”

“The writing is in Gaelic. I’ve never learned it, yet I can read the parchment as well as the pillars.”

“What did the parchment say?” he asked.

“My family is in Foinaven Mountain. I want to find them.” She walked to the tree and squatted down beside him. “I was to leave today while everyone was occupied with you and Logan.”

Even though he knew he shouldn’t ask, the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. “What made you stay?”

Her hand reached out and touched his cheek. “I’m not sure.”

Galen bounded to his feet and stepped away from her, praying her small touch wouldn’t give him entry into her mind. Thankfully there was nothing, but he needed distance. She was too close, too alluring. Too damned beautiful.

If he didn’t get away from her he wouldn’t be able to hold back the tide of yearning that gripped him.

“Galen? Did I do something wrong?”

He fisted his hands. They itched to reach out and stroke her face, to smell her hair and feel the heat of her skin. He shook with need, a burning that threatened to set him ablaze if he didn’t taste her soon.

“Nay,” he finally managed. “You did nothing wrong.”

He groaned when the first sounds of music reached them again. The melody was slow, the beat rhythmic, seductive. Erotic.

It mixed with Reaghan’s strong magic and swirled around him, enticing him to give in to the yearnings of his body, urging him to heed the passion that Reaghan stirred to life.

He burned. He desired. He needed.

“Do you feel it?” Reaghan asked as she rose to her feet, her face tilted to the moon. “The music. It always makes me feel as though it is calling to me.”

Galen couldn’t take his eyes off her. She was swaying again, her arms held away from her body. Her eyes were closed and she tilted her head to the side, exposing her graceful neck and skin that begged for his touch.

He tried to keep his feet rooted, but his body had other ideas. He was powerless to fight against the lure of Reaghan’s magic. It was the music that called forth her magic.

And Galen couldn’t fight her magic. He didn’t want to. It felt too good as it caressed his skin, heating his blood and making his heart pound in his chest.

He stopped in front of her, awed by the pure joy on her face. Then she opened her silver eyes and looked at him. The smile faded and desire sparked in her gaze.

“Reaghan, I cannot fight this.”

Her head cocked to the side, auburn curls spilling over her shoulder to dance about her arm. “Cannot fight what?”

“This attraction I feel for you.”

“You want … me?”

She said it with such confusion that Galen almost laughed. “Aye, but I shouldn’t. Mairi warned me to stay away.”

“Forget Mairi. What do you want?”

“God’s blood. I want all of you. I want to kiss you, to have you against me so I can feel every inch of you. I want to lay you down and sink my rod inside you.”

He knew he was being crude, but he did it in the hopes she would run away since obviously he couldn’t. When she stayed her ground, her breath quickening and her pupils dilating, Galen knew he had made a dreadful mistake, but it was a mistake he couldn’t regret.

This craving, this hunger was too strong to walk away from, and whatever might happen, Galen would endure it. He would endure it because he had to know what she tasted like, had to know what it felt like to stroke her creamy skin and hold her.

It had been so long since he’d had contact with a woman that he was almost afraid to touch her. But he had come this far. There was no turning back now.

He moved closer until he had her backed against the tree. The sensual melody only added to his desire, exciting him, imploring him. Teasing him.

Reaghan was his for the taking. He could see it in the way she watched him with wide eyes, her lips parted and her pulse beating rapidly at her throat.

Galen leaned toward her, but before he could allow his hands to touch her, he slammed them onto the tree. The bark bit into his flesh, but he felt nothing through the haze of his desire.

He let himself sink into Reaghan’s silver gaze and allowed her magic to encircle him, stroke him. It was as beautiful and fascinating as she was, and it proved to him that he would never encounter another woman like her for the rest of his days.

When he was breaths away from kissing her, he paused, steeling himself against the images and feelings that would assail his mind as soon as he touched her.

His body shook with the need to taste her. His breathing was ragged, harsh. Every part of his body was attuned to Reaghan. Her gaze dropped to his mouth, and that’s all it took to send him past the point of no return.

He placed his lips on hers in a quick, hard kiss and waited for the inevitable deluge of images and feelings. Only there was nothing. No visions, no voices, no emotions.

Shaken to his core and too afraid to rejoice, Galen kissed her again, this time longer, softer, his tongue sliding past her lips to delve into her mouth.

She sucked in a startled breath. Her tongue hesitantly touched his before she moaned and returned his kiss. It left him reeling, his body ablaze with need.

Galen was sinking. Spinning. Reeling.

He deepened the kiss as a low, satisfied moan rumbled within him. He needed more of her sweet lips, more of her exciting, fascinating taste. It had been so long since he’d felt something besides another’s emotions or thoughts when he touched them that he never wanted to let her go.

His hands sank into her curls, awed at the cool, soft texture of her hair. Her arms wound around his neck, bringing her body closer so that her breasts rubbed against his chest.

Galen moaned, his balls tightening in response. He ached to pull her against him, to grind his arousal into her softness. Pleasure swam through his veins, begging for more. Demanding more.