Immortal Desires (Well of Souls) (13 page)

"I hear you wish to go back to your time." Isobel spoke softly to her but Deanna still noted the wistfulness in her voice.

Deanna dropped her eyes, unsure of what to say, or even how to explain her mixed-up feelings. "I don't belong here."

"That's no an answer, lass. A person belongs wherever they might be. I have seen the way you look at Ian. Would you deny your feelings for him?" Isobel's eyes flashed an emerald green in the firelight as Deanna raised her head back up to look at her. Did she know more than she was saying?

Deanna risked asking. "I'm confused. Do you know something you're not telling me?"

Isobel flickered a tiny smile at her. "It's no for me to say but I think you should listen to your heart. Eat now and sleep on it. The laird said he'd meet you on the morrow with the brooch…if you still wish it." With that she turned and left Deanna to ponder her existence here.

The trouble was, Deanna decided after she'd finished her meal, she didn't know how to listen to her heart. It came as a shock to realize that, but there it was. She'd said yes to Nick's proposal because he added up well on a balance sheet of desirable traits for a mate—not because of a heart-pounding love for him.

She still didn't belong here though, no matter how she felt whenever Ian was near her. Deanna crawled under the fur covers of the bed, indecision threatening to split her brain in two. If she took the brooch and it worked, she'd never see Ian again. Could she live with that, throwing away the possibility of a life with him? Would it become the main regret of her life?

And if the brooch didn't work? That thought scared her even more.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Deanna sat across from Ian the next morning in uncomfortable silence, her porridge growing cold as her stomach twisted with indecision. What did she want? When she'd finally fallen asleep last night, her dreams had been filled with images of the two of them together—laughing, talking, sharing a bed. She woke up this morning in a nightgown damp with sweat, exhausted from the restless night.

"If you're done staring at your food, come to my study and we'll get this over with." Ian's voice chilled the room and she glanced up into eyes that sent goose bumps trailing down her spine. Nodding, she pushed back on the bench and would have stumbled if Munro hadn't lent his arm for support.

"Smile, lassie." Munro patted her hand. "He willna execute you, not with me around."

Deanna appreciated his attempt to lighten the mood even if she couldn't muster up a smile for him. "Thank you."

"Anything for you. I hope to see you again, walking back out that door and deciding to stay with us." He gave her trembling hand a squeeze then kissed the back of it. "I'll be verra disappointed if you dinna stay and I willna be the only one."

He shot a glance over at Ian, who had risen and already walked away toward the stairs. Deanna ordered her feet to follow before he changed his mind.

She trailed after Ian as he strode down the hallway on the second floor. He stopped in front of a door with his clan shield carved into it and painted with his colors. Deanna touched it, in awe of the workmanship. It hadn't been in the hotel in her time.

"It's beautiful. Whoever did this created a masterpiece."

"'Twas no so hard a thing to do. 'Tis a hobby of mine."

Understanding dawned on her. "The carved vase in my room…you made that?" Her cheeks grew hot remembering she'd almost broken it over his head.

"Aye. Are you coming in?" He swept his arm in an angry gesture and Deanna stepped into the study. She remembered why she was here and lifted her chin, willing herself to keep a cool head.

One wall held shelves filled with books and a desk sat in front of it. The furniture looked old and utilitarian; she guessed that Ian hadn't made any of it. A small cupboard sat on the other side of the room and it was what Ian walked over to now.

He opened the cupboard with a key and removed a small chest with Celtic symbols carved on it. More of his work, no doubt. Deanna never would have guessed this warrior had such an artistic talent.

There's probably a lot you don't know about him
, her mind told her with a snide tone.
You never took the chance to get to know him.
"Oh, shut up," she mumbled. Ian turned and looked at her but didn't comment.

He opened the box on the desk and stepped back, folding his arms over his chest and looking every bit the proud warrior in his stance. Deanna could see the jewels of the brooch winking at her from their resting place inside.

Drawing out the inevitable, as painful as it was, Deanna didn't approach the jewels right away. "You said you were going to tell me what the Cailleach said to you."

Something in his eyes shifted as he looked at her and Deanna got the feeling she was missing a vital piece of information. She waited when he didn't answer, listening instead to the beat of her heart as it tapped out a lonely rhythm.

"It doesna matter," he finally said. "'Tis of no importance to you. I'd ask for a boon before you go. One kiss, then I'll leave you to your travels."

The beat she'd been listening to stuttered, her whole world coming into focus as she gazed at his face. Deanna nodded, not trusting her voice. He closed the distance between them in two steps and gathered her into his arms.

The moment he touched her, Deanna knew she was in trouble. Heat spread throughout her body as his lips brushed hers in a gentle sweep of motion. She wanted more and curled her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck while drawing her tongue over his bottom lip.

Ian crushed her into his embrace as if he, too, couldn't get close enough to her. Deanna molded against his hard body, craving the contact that electrified her nerve endings. Heat pooled between her legs, her muscles clenching, begging to feel his manhood drive hard inside her depth.

His breath quickened as he trailed kisses down the side of her neck. One hand moved forward to tease her hard nipples, causing them to ache for the feel of his mouth capturing each one.

Deanna lowered her hands down his back, a slight whimper escaping as she landed on the hard muscles of his sexy ass and drew his hips closer. His erection responded with a thump as their bodies melded together.

Ian pulled back, leaving her panting at the sudden space between them. His eyes shone with barely restrained emotion.

"I asked for a kiss. I willna take what isna freely given. You believe you belong elsewhere, no here with me. I wish you a safe journey." He turned and walked out the door, shutting it behind him without slamming it.

Deanna gaped at the empty space where he'd been a moment ago, trying to catch her breath and stem the desire racing through her blood. He was right, of course. She felt like the lowest tease on earth. Closing her eyes, she sank into a chair, regretting the hurt she'd just inflicted on an honorable man.

The box swam in her vision when her eyes opened again, its promise of home nestled inside. Her lips tingled with Ian's passion—not forced, but freely given because she'd wanted it.

The old saying was true—be careful what you wish for. The realization hurt. She stood at a crossroad—forever changed no matter which way she went.

Tears spilled down her cheeks as Deanna rose and walked over to the box. The brooch glittered up at her, its jewels waiting for her touch to complete the journey she'd chosen.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Ian walked down the stairs and out through the front door, in no mood to pass by those who might question him. What could he say? She left. It was her choice. Best to forget about her.

He entered the stables, inhaling the scent of fresh hay. Old Sealgair, his favorite deerhound, offered his grizzled head for a scratch and Ian obliged him. The dog's wiry coat felt rough in Ian's hand, a strong counterpoint to Deanna's soft skin. Not strong enough though…

With a whistle to bring his horse out of his stall, Ian leapt on his back and left the bailey to ride into the village. He didn't want to be anywhere near the keep today. Let his mother erase all evidence of the lass first. He wished he'd never laid eyes on the vixen.

The Cailleach's words rushed back to him, despite his efforts to block the venom she dripped into his veins.

"You come here to seek the safety of your clan? Behold, you are its seed of destruction, young whelp. The woman was to be your salvation. She is fìor ghaol—your true love and soul mate. Your clan will soon turn to dust; the winter that never returns to spring. As I am, so shall you be."

Ian rode harder, the images of his castle in broken ruins keeping pace with the flying hooves of his horse. The Cailleach was wrong. His clan would continue.

Is there no room for the laird's happiness?
a small voice whispered in his ear. Apparently not. He'd just sent his soul mate away without a fight to keep her close. Now she would belong to another with no way for him to win her back.

His fist crashed onto his thigh with such impact his horse danced sideways in confusion. Regret blossomed in his chest, lodged in his heart like an arrow that can't be withdrawn. What had he been thinking? He'd let pride dictate his actions, belittled her statements, forced her to leave by withholding his sympathy until it was too late.

The tavern was blessedly empty when he walked in and ordered the first of many whiskys. Ian gave perfunctory nods to greetings throughout the day but people left him alone in his misery.

***

Night had draped the keep in deep shadow when Ian stumbled through the door. Only the glow from a banked fire kept him from toppling over furniture. He sank into a chair, imagining Deanna standing by the embers with her hands stretched out to warm them, as he'd seen her do many times before.

Ian lowered his head into his hands and squeezed his eyes shut. "Dinna haunt me, I beg of you."

When he raised his head up a moment later, her phantom had vanished, leaving him truly alone. He could still smell the scent of her skin, like flowers in a meadow. Inhaling the sweet perfume, he closed his eyes and prayed he wouldn't dream of her.

***

"Did you sleep here all night?" Munro's booming bass fractured the silence and started the beating of drums in Ian's head. He cracked one eye open and willed the man's presence away. It didn't work. "You dinna look so well, laddie. A nice dip in the river seems in order."

"Leave. Me. Be." His own voice sounded like the keening of a Bean Sidhe to his ears.

"Nay. My men are here to best your warriors, or did you forget?" Munro grabbed his arm and hauled him out of the chair.

"Was that today?" He had forgotten. Nothing seemed important right now.

Munro led him toward the back door. Ian winced as the clanging of pots from the kitchen assaulted his ears and he walked faster, trying to escape the noise.

More clanging awaited him in the bailey as swords beat against each other in practice. His men called out greetings to their laird in exuberant voices filled with excitement for today's challenge. Ian hobbled down to the river as a blind man seeking the light.

"Here, drink this." Munro shoved a cup into Ian's hand. He held his breath and swallowed the contents, grateful to Munro for his foresight in mixing the vile concoction. If anything could dim the throb in his head, this would do it.

"Thank you," Ian gasped and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "You're a good man."

"Aye and dinna I ken it." He walloped Ian on the back so hard he would have stumbled if Munro hadn't steadied him.

Ian tumbled the last few feet to the bank of the river and shucked his clothes. The icy water slapped him hard as soon as he jumped in but his vision cleared and the drums in his head began to recede to a dull throb.

"Feeling better?" Munro called out to him, a grin trying to split his face in two.

"Some." Ian crawled up the bank and wrapped his plaid around his waist, carrying his shirt and boots in his hand. "What are you so happy about?"

"Well, I wasna going to say anything till you were in your right mind again but our lassie is still with us!"

Time stopped for Ian as he thought about Munro's words. He couldn't mean Deanna though, and discarded that hope. It wasn't possible. "Who are you talking about?"

Munro peered into his eyes and shook his head, the grin still plastered on his face. "You're usually no so dense after a bout of drinking. Did the Fae muddle your brain?"

"Who!" Ian winced as the reminder of his drinking slammed his head again. "I dinna ken what you're saying," he continued in a quieter voice.

"Our Deanna, you addlepated fool. Who else would I be grinning about?"

"Deanna? Here? She's no gone?" Ian stuttered his way through the words before he took off running toward the keep. "Why didna you tell me sooner?"

Ian thought he heard Munro laugh and say, "Because I wanted to witness this part" but he couldn't be sure as Munro was already far behind him now. He raced through the door, heedless of the young kitchen girl who scrambled backwards out of his path, and took the stairs two at a time to the third floor.

He stopped dead in front of her bedchamber, suddenly unsure of what to say. She could be furious that the brooch had no magic and she didn't get back home, not sharing any of his elation to have her here. Deanna would be within her rights to hate him at this moment but he would change that.