Highland Pull (Highland Destiny 2) (7 page)

Gabhran slipped into a pair of shorts and the gris-gris he'd removed before his shower, still feeling shaky after his internal battle. He wished he knew who’d won, and although the cold shower had helped tame the dark lust, he sensed it lurking just beyond his reach.

What was he doing here, in this strange city, this strange country? He needed the Highlands. Perhaps a discreet phone call to his attorney would tell him if his name was connected to Brianna’s murder in his own country, or if he would be able to safely return. Of course there was no telling how long he would even remain in this version of reality. Not much longer if the past was any indication. He grabbed a bottle of single malt and a glass and wandered into the courtyard, trying to glimpse the night sky, so vastly different from that of his homeland. Clouds and city lights gave nothing away.

Hooking a chaise lounge with his foot, Gabhran pulled it over next to the fountain. He lay there, drinking and brooding for a long time.

****

Liam lurked in the darkened courtyard of the hospital where Gabhran spent his days and wondered what had brought him here. He could sense strong magick from somewhere inside.
Who is it? Why here? Could it have something to do with the woman Gabhran had met earlier in the day?
Liam had not been able to get close enough to use his Druid senses then, not with Gabhran around. Still, the woman was the only patient Gabhran had met with outside.

Perhaps tonight, once everyone was asleep he would don his spell of reflection and walk unseen through the corridors until he found the magick. If the magick
was strong enough, he would commandeer the vessel for his father’s collection. Artifact or person, it mattered not.

He’d known it was safe to return here tonight, he was not needed at the townhouse. The darkness was working on Gabhran even now. Liam was willing to wager it was stronger than Gabhran e’er felt it before.

He’d watched as MacLachlan walked the lass to his place. He’d not missed the way Gabhran’s hand stroked her back, the side of her breast, the possessive manner with which he surrounded her body. Good, Liam thought. Even if Gabhran fought off the darkness tonight, he was close to the edge, and soon there would be no turning back. Then he would be trained in the ways of the Order of Etarlam, the Druid ways. He would serve at the pleasure of Liam’s father, and eventually at the pleasure of Liam himself.

****

So that was the way of it, Marie thought. She was standing just outside the courtyard, watching the man in the shadows as he watched the windows of the clinic. She had been drawn here by the force of his power. His power was primal and vast, she sensed death about him and great passion. He woke something within her.

At first, she’d thought it was the other Druid, Gabhran, who had returned to the hospital. She knew better now. This was far more powerful than any she’d yet encountered. Gabhran’s
power might someday be as strong, however, for now it was latent, hidden from him. This one knew he was powerful and had the spells of his Order. He was certainly more powerful than she was, and far more dangerous.

Marie had been near this clinic every day; there was much magick hidden here, and she felt the need to protect someone, although she had been unable to see who it was that needed her. Someone whose spirit was ephemeral, someone lost like Gav.

When she had arrived tonight, it was to find this other Druid already here. This Druid was curious about the magick inside the clinic, he was considering acquiring it for his own uses. Marie knew he had done dark things, and he was planning to do so again. Was he the dark looking for the light? Or was he the light that was being consumed by the darkness? Perhaps there were more players she had yet to encounter. Time would tell.

For now, Marie had a use for him, a need he could fill far better than the others she’d considered. It wouldn’t be easy. She smiled. His magick was strong, but this was her city. She stepped away to make a phone call, certain that her plan would work.

****

Alysone stepped out of her room, closing the door softly behind her. She was dressed in black, with her hair pulled up under a ball cap. She just wanted to get away for a few hours, to escape the constant scrutiny of the medical staff. It was humiliating to have to describe your every feeling and every bodily function to strangers. Well really, everyone around her was a stranger, but still, she was tired of feeling so exposed.

She had no cash, so tonight it would be a quick walk through the French Quarter, just to stretch her legs. Then she would return to face her dreams once again. She hoped the dream of the master didn’t visit her tonight. That had been truly disturbing, and she was positive it had been the source for her sense of unease all day.

There was no one about, and she headed for the parlor, to the French doors that led into the courtyard. Corridor after corridor, the clinic was quiet. She crept down the stairs to the ground floor near the nurses’ station and spotted the night nurse going into a small room to the side of her desk. Alysone took that opportunity to scurry across the hall and into the parlor.

Her heart was pounding loudly in her chest, now she was faced with the moment of truth. If she was caught now, she could still lie; claim she had just wanted to walk a bit. No one would believe it, since she was fully dressed, and all in black, no less. Still, they wouldn’t be able to prove anything. Once she went through that door, however, she would be in clear violation of clinic policies and the judge’s order. Then, they could return her to the state hospital in Baton Rouge. She couldn't resist, she needed to be free, if only for an hour. If the worst happened, Gabhran would just have to fix it for her. Her hand clutched the doorknob, and it twisted easily. The door opened noiselessly as Alysone slipped into the night.

****

Miranda couldn’t sleep. Closing her eyes made her head swirl, the after effects of too much whisky or too much something else?
Or not enough of something else
, a little voice whispered inside her. Maybe putting her feet in the cool water of the fountain would quiet her rattled nerves. She threw on a robe and stepped into the steamy New Orleans night.

She was struggling with
who, or maybe what, Gabhran was. She had always been so good at reading people that it had become second nature to her. He was the one exception, she only had brief glimpses, and they were confusing.

Some moments he seemed nothing more than what he presented to the world, a doctor, a man who mostly kept to himself, with an immense appetite for living. Minutes later she sensed a great gnawing hole, as though the real Gabhran was hidden behind a black veil. Maybe she could think of some way to describe what she felt, and then ask him about it. He owed her some explanations after tonight.

****

He heard her approach and tension gripped his body.

“Did you bring your gun, lass? You can put me out of my misery. Otherwise get the fuck away from me.”

Apparently deciding to ignore his comments, Miranda brought a chair over next to his lounge. She tightened the belt on her short, crimson silk kimono wrap as she sat and crossed her ankles demurely. She began quietly, “All my life I have been able to get a read on people, to sense when they were telling the truth or lying, to tell if they’re good or bad in the overall scheme of things. It’s a large part of what makes me a good detective. Why can’t I read you Gabhran?”

“Go away, lass. I doona want to be near you, not tonight, not ever. I owe you an apology the likes of which can never be made; you should have me arrested or shot. Please, lass, just go away.” His voice shook with the strength of some emotion.

“Do you know what I sense from you, Gabhran, shall I show you my skills? In the Hall, every time I’ve seen you, your soul is soaring with the music, following it to the highs and lows, dancing on the notes with the heart of a musician. There is no doubt that you are a good man.”

Gabhran snorted.

“Then tonight, something changed, there was a part of you that was different. No, that’s not right,” she interrupted herself impatiently. “It’s not a part of you, but something foreign inside of you, something that belongs to someone else. Tell me your story, Gabhran,” she said, placing her hand on his arm.

Gabhran looked at her hand, wondering at the gesture of trust after what he’d done to her a scant hour past. What would this woman think if he told her about being pulled through time, landing in different lives? Would he land in the room next to Alysone’s, unable to convince doctors of the truth of his claims? Undoubtedly. Maybe he should start with the story of Beltane and the dark that invaded him, that was certainly a believable tale. He was dangerous, and he needed to convince her to leave him alone. Shaking her hand off his arm, he poured another scotch, wondering why there was less than half a bottle left.

“Go away, before I finish what I started earlier.”

“Why did you stop? What made you finally pull back? You know here in New Orleans, we believe in things we can’t see. We know there is magick out there. Tell me about the darkness, I know it’s there, and I know you’re fighting it.”

“
Och, lass, stop with your incessant questions. You think you believe in magick? Do you believe in Druids, lass. In spells and time travel? Would you believe me if I told you I was about to be pulled into a new life, that I willna remember you or this place, but will start over? Would you believe me if I told you someone cast a spell of darkness in me, and ‘tis that darkness that tried to take you without your permission?” He spun around, and put his feet on the ground, and again turned his back to her. “I would kill a man who treated a woman such. Go away, lass.”

Miranda moved onto the chaise next to him. “So what’s different right now? I know that darkness was there, I felt it, and it wasn’t you. So where is it right now? Does it leave you?”

Gabhran shook his head, trying to clear the fog that had settled in his brain, thinking he shouldna have had so much whisky, but who knew this woman would come to torture him with her questions, her sweetness, offering absolution and trust.

“I am wearing a gris-gris, lass, do you know what that is? ‘Twas made for me by Marie
Gathier.”

“Then I know you are telling me the truth, Marie wouldn’t bother with someone from out of town unless she believed in you. But why didn’t it work earlier?”

“I forgot to put it on after my shower,” he whispered. “I am truly sorry. You didna deserve to be treated in such a fashion.” He emptied his glass and poured another, then turned his back on her, praying she would leave him in peace. The touch of her hand on his back nearly made him moan with frustration and he stiffened under her gentle touch. What the hell was she playing at?

“Miranda, doona do this. I am not a good man, I canna be with you.”

Again, he felt that wave of sadness pass through her. He wanted to know what it was, to know all there was to know about her, but he wouldna ask, he wasna good for her. He groaned, and braced his hands on his knees and dropped his head in his hands. His black as midnight hair swung forward to hide his face.

Miranda pulled on his shoulder. “Look at me, Gabhran, please, just look at me,” she said softly.

Mesmerized by her voice and her hand on his bare skin, he was helpless to resist her plea. He twisted to face her and she pushed him back against the chaise, while she remained perched on the edge of the seat. He slowly raised his eyes, his gaze lingering a moment when he noticed the front of her little robe had come loose, exposing her breasts. Resolutely, he turned his gaze to her face, wondering at the raw pain he saw there.

“Come here, lass, let me hold you for a minute, then we must go our separate ways.”

Miranda took the invitation a bit more literally than he intended, climbing fully onto his lap, and resting her cheek against his chest. Gabhran wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her hair, breathing deeply of the scent of her. They sat that way for a long time.

Gabhran placed a hand beneath her chin, angled her face up, and covered her mouth with his, a gentle kiss, offering comfort. The kiss lingered, he cradled her face gently in his hands, and she wound her fingers into his hair. He deepened the kiss, desperate to feel her forgiveness, hungry to taste every part of her. She moved in his lap, pressing against his hard shaft and he moaned with desire.

He knew what he must do, and it would cost him, but perhaps he could give her pleasure before he left. He lifted her off his lap and set her onto the lounge, as he bent over her, continuing the kiss. He lowered the back of the chaise so she was nearly lying flat and pulled his head back to look at her.

“Beautiful Miranda, your kisses are so sweet. Lay back and let me kiss you.” He lowered his lips to hers once again. She met his passionate kisses with a fire of her own, and the flames of desire were stoked white-hot.

He moved his hand to the open front of her robe and hesitated, his fingers twisted in the silk. He whispered, “I want to kiss all of you, will you let me? Do you want my kisses?”

She gasped a strangled, “Yes,” and dropped her head back against the seat.

He untied her robe and opened the front completely to look at her, stunned by her beauty. He glanced at her face and was pleased to see her watching him, her eyes heavy with passion. He smiled and she smiled tremulously back. With their gazes locked, he slid his finger lightly between her legs, her eyes widened, she shivered and moaned.