The Dark Highlander Read online

  “Chloe knows me as naught more than a man.”

  “She doesn’t feel it in you?” Lucky lass, Drustan thought.

  “She senses something. She watches me strangely at times, as if perplexed.”

  “And how long do you think you’ll be able to maintain the pretense?”

  “Christ, Drustan, give a man a moment to catch his breath, will you?”

  “Do you plan to tell her?”

  “How?” Dageus asked flatly. “Och, lass, I’m a Druid from the sixteenth century and I broke an oath and now I’m possessed by the souls of four-thousand-year-old evil Druids and if I doona find a way to get rid of them I will turn into a scourge upon the earth and the only thing that keeps me sane is tooping?”

  “What?” Drustan blinked. “What was that about tooping?”

  “It makes the darkness ease. When I begin to feel cold and detached, for some reason bedding a wench makes me feel human again. Naught else seems to work.”

  “Ah, that’s why you brought her.”

  Dageus gave him a dark look. “She resists.”

  Drustan choked on a swallow of whisky. Dageus needed tooping to keep that heinous beast at bay, yet he’d brought a woman with him who refused his bed? “Why haven’t you seduced her?” he exclaimed.

  “I’m working on it,” Dageus snarled.

  Drustan gaped at him. Dageus could seduce any woman. If not gently, then with a rough, wild wooing that never failed. He’d not missed the way the wee lass had looked at his brother. She needed no more than a firm nudge. So why the bletherin’ hell hadn’t Dageus nudged? A sudden thought occurred to him. “By Amergin, she’s the one, isn’t she?” he breathed.

  “What one?” Dageus stalked to a tall window, pushed the drapes aside and stared out at the night. He slid the window up and breathed deeply, greedily, of sweet, chilly Highland air.

  “The moment I saw Gwen, a part of me simply said ‘mine.’ And from that moment, though I didn’t understand it, I knew that I would do aught ever it took to keep her. ’Tis as if the Druid in us recognizes our mate instantly, the one we could exchange the binding vows with. Is Chloe that one?”

  Dageus’s head whipped around and the unguarded, startled look on his face was answer enough for Drustan. His brother had heard the same voice. Drustan suddenly felt a surge of hope, despite what he’d felt inside his brother. He knew from personal experience that oft love could accomplish miracles when all else seemed destined to fail. Dageus may be dark, but by some miracle, he wasn’t lost to it yet.

  And when one was dealing with evil, Drustan suspected love might be the most potent weapon of all.

  When Gwen joined them in the library a short time later, without Chloe, Dageus tensed. He’d yet to speak to Drustan about the attempt on Chloe’s life, and about the Draghar—whoever they were.

  Is she the one? Drustan had asked.

  Och, aye, she was the one for him. Now that Drustan had remarked upon it, Dageus understood it was what he’d sensed from the very first—the kind a man kept, indeed. ’Twas no wonder he’d refused to use a memory spell on her, and send her on her way. He was incapable of letting her go. ’Twas also no wonder he’d not been satisfied with merely trying to bed her.

  In this, his darkest hour, fate had gifted him with his mate. The irony of it was rich. How was a man to woo a woman under such conditions? He knew naught of wooing. He knew only of seduction, of conquering. Tenderness of the heart, soft words and pledges, had been burned out of him long ago. The youngest son of no noble consequence, pagan to boot, he’d caught too many of his youthful follies attempting to seduce his own brother.

  One too many of them had coyly suggested a three-way bout of love-play—and no’ with another woman. Nay, always with his own twin.

  Four times he’d watched Drustan try to secure a wife—and fail.

  He’d learned young and learned well that he possessed one thing a woman wanted, hence he’d perfected his skills and taken comfort from the knowledge that while women might eschew intimacy with him, they never turned him away from their beds. He was always welcome there. Even when their husband was in the next room, a fact that had only deepened his cynicism involving so-called matters of the heart.

  Except Chloe. She was the one woman he’d tried to seduce that had refused him.

  Yet remained at his side.

  Aye, but how long will she remain there when she discovers what you are?

  He had no answer for that, only a relentless determination to have all of her that he could. And if that determination was more akin to the desperation of a drowning man than a courageous one, so be it. The night he’d tempted death and danced on the slippery terrace wall above the snow-covered city of Manhattan—and fallen on the safe side—he’d made a promise to himself: that he would not yield to despair again. He would fight it any way he could, with any weapon he could find, till the bitter end.

  “Where is she?” he hissed, surging to his feet.

  Gwen blinked. “It’s wonderful to see you, too, Dageus,” she said sweetly. “Nice of you to drop in. We’ve only been waiting forever.”

  “Where?”

  “Relax. She’s upstairs taking a long shower. The poor girl traveled for an entire day and, though she said she slept a bit on the plane, she’s clearly exhausted. What on earth have you been doing to her? I adore her, by the way,” Gwen added, smiling. “She’s a brainy geek like me. Now, can I have a hug?”

  His tension ebbed slowly, aided by the knowledge that if Chloe was safe anywhere, it was within these walls. He’d personally chiseled the protection spells into the cornerstones when the castle had been built. So long as she remained within them, no harm would find her.

  He skirted the sofa and opened his arms to Gwen, the woman who’d once saved his life. The woman he’d pledged his own to protect. “’Tis good to see you again, lass, and you’re looking lovely as ever.” He bent his head to kiss her.

  “No lips,” Drustan warned. “Unless you wish me to be kissing Chloe.”

  Dageus averted his face swiftly. “How are the wee bairn, lass?” he asked, with a glance at her rounded belly.

  Gwen beamed and prattled on about her most recent doctor’s visit. When she paused finally for a breath, she peered at him intently. “Has Drustan told you our idea yet?”

  Dageus shook his head. He was still having a hard time fathoming that Drustan had known he was dark all this time. A hard time believing he was home, that his brother had welcomed him. Had, in fact, been waiting for him.

  “You’re my brother,” Drustan said quietly, and Dageus knew that he’d read his feelings in that uncanny way his twin had. “I would never turn my back on you. It wounds me that you thought I would.”

  “I but thought to fix it myself, Drustan.”

  “You hate to ask for help. You always have. You’ve ever shouldered more than your share of the burden. You had no right to sacrifice yourself for me—”

  “Doona even start with me—”

  “I didn’t ask you to—”

  “Och, you rather be dead?”

  “Enough!” Gwen snapped. “Stop it, both of you. We could sit here for hours arguing about who should or should not have done what. And what would that accomplish? Nothing. We have a problem. We’ll fix it.”

  Dageus hooked a ladder-back chair with his foot, turned it about and dropped into it backward, stretching his legs around the frame, resting his forearms on the top of the back. He took a perverse pleasure in seeing his elder brother chastened. Drustan was well met by his wee, brilliant wife. The bond betwixt them was a precious thing.

  “We’ve given this a lot of thought,” Gwen said, “and we think we can send someone back to warn you before the tower burns, that it’s going to burn. That way you can prevent the fire, which would save Drustan, and keep you from ever turning dark.”

  Dageus shook his head. “Nay, lass. It wouldn’t work.”

  “What mean you? ’Tis a brilliant solution,” Drustan protested.
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  “Not only doona we have someone we could send, because that person might be forever stuck in the past, but I doona believe it would change me now.”

  “No, Drustan and I thought of that,” Gwen insisted. “If the person was one you met as a result of turning dark, like—oh, say, gee, Chloe—the same thing that happened to me should happen to her. She’d be sent back to her own time the moment she succeeded in changing your future.”

  “Chloe goes nowhere without me. And she doesn’t know. You didn’t tell her, did you?” The tension was back again. He’d been so caught up in seeing his brother again, so relieved to be accepted, that he’d forgotten to warn Gwen to say naught to Chloe of his plight.

  “I didn’t say anything,” Gwen hastened to assure him. “It was apparent she knew very little, so I kept the conversation light. We talked about college and jobs mostly. Who else have you met in this century that we might send?”

  “No one. It wouldn’t work anyway. There are things you doona know.”

  “Such as?” Drustan probed.

  “I’m no’ the same man anymore. I suspect that even if someone went back and warned the past me, and the past me didn’t break his oath, what I’ve become would still exist in the here and now.”

  “That’s impossible,” Gwen declared, with the firm conviction of a physicist having weighted her proofs both valid and true.

  “Nay ’tis not. I tried something very similar. Shortly after I broke my oath, I went back to a time before the fire, hoping to cancel myself out. To see if the past me might cause the dark me to cease to exist.”

  “The way things occurred when I took Gwen back into the past,” Drustan said thoughtfully. “The future me ceased to exist because two identical selves couldn’t coexist in the same moment in time.”

  “Aye. I even managed to carry a note to myself through the stones, so the past me would know to move you from the tower. But the canceling hinges on two identical selves.”

  “What are you saying?” Drustan demanded, hands clenching on the arms of his chair.

  “When I went back, not only didn’t the future me cease to exist, neither me did. I watched myself through a window for hours before fleeing again. He never disappeared. I might have strolled in and introduced myself.”

  “’Tis wise you didn’t. We must be ever wary of creating paradoxes,” Drustan said uneasily.

  Gwen gaped. “That’s not possible. According to the laws of physics, one of you would have to cease to exist”

  “You’d think after all she experienced with me, she wouldn’t be so hasty labeling things possible or impossible,” Drustan said dryly.

  “How could it be possible?” Gwen demanded.

  “Because I am no longer the same man I was. I’m different enough now with these ancient beings inside me, on some elemental level, that my past self did not conflict with who or what I’ve become.”

  “Oh, God,” Gwen breathed. “So even if we sent someone back, and they changed the past . . .”

  “I doubt it would have any effect on me at all. What I am now, seems to exist beyond the natural order of things. ’Tis possible it may cause some negative effect we can’t even imagine. There’s too much we doona understand here. I fear creating multiple moments in time for no good purpose. Nay, my only hope is the old lore.”

  Drustan and Gwen exchanged an uneasy look.

  “’Twas a clever idea,” Dageus reassured them. “I can see why you considered it. But I’ve given this matter endless thought and my only hope is to discover how they were imprisoned in the first place, and reimprison them. ’Tis why I came. I need to use the Keltar library. I need to examine the ancient texts that deal with the Tuatha Dé Danaan.”

  Drustan sighed gustily and raked a hand through his hair.

  “What?” Dageus’s eyes narrowed.

  “It’s just that we were so certain our idea would work,” Gwen said miserably.

  “And?” Dageus pressed warily.

  Drustan rose and began pacing. “Dageus, we no longer have those texts,” he said in a low voice.

  Dageus lunged to his feet so swiftly that the chair clattered to the floor. Nay—it couldn’t be so! “What? What say you? How can we not have them?” he thundered.

  “We doona know. But they’re not here. After reading Da’s letter, I decided to research the Tuatha Dé Danaan to discover aught I could about the mythic race, in hopes of discovering a way to cast them out. That’s when Christopher and I found that we’re missing a great many tomes.”

  “But surely some of the volumes I need are here.” He began naming the ones he was specifically seeking, but at each title, Drustan shook his head.

  “That’s inconceivable, Drustan!”

  “Aye, and it nigh seems deliberate. Christopher and I suspect someone intentionally removed them, though we cannot discern how it might have been done.”

  “I need those texts, damn it!” He slammed his fist against the paneled wall.

  There was a moment of silence, then Drustan said slowly, “There is a place—or should I say a time—they can be found. A time both you and I know our clan’s library was fully extant.”

  Dageus smiled bitterly. Right. And just how was he going to explain that to Chloe? Ahem, lass, the tomes I needed aren’t here, so we’re going to have to go back in time and get them? He snorted. Would nothing be simple? It seemed she’d be learning more about him, whether he was ready to tell her or not.

  “I could go for you,” Drustan offered. “Just long enough to get what we need.”

  “Then I’m going too,” Gwen said instantly.

  “Nay!” Drustan and Dageus both snapped at the same time.

  Gwen glared. “I will not be left behind.”

  “Neither of you will be going.” Dageus halted that argument before it built steam. “We have no guarantee that the Tuatha Dé Danaan didn’t plant other dangers in the in-between. Any Keltar who opens a bridge for personal reasons is at risk. No Keltar but I will be opening any bridges to another time. I’m already dark. Besides, what one brings into the stones at one end doesn’t always show up on the other end. I lost several heirlooms when I came through last time.”

  Gwen nodded slowly. “That’s true. I lost my backpack. It went spiraling off into the quantum foam somewhere. We can’t risk trying to bring the books through.”

  “Can you open the stones safely? What will the use of magic do to you?” Drustan asked cautiously. To Gwen, who hadn’t been privy to their earlier conversation, he explained, “When he uses magic, it makes the . . . er, ancient ones stronger.”

  “Then maybe you shouldn’t go,” Gwen worried.

  Dageus exhaled dismally. All his hopes were pinned on those Keltar texts, and he’d wasted as much time as he dare. “If what you say is true, and the tomes aren’t here, I doona have a choice. As for the magic, I’m more concerned about what Da might do to me. I’ll deal with the darkness somehow.”

  “We’re clan, Dageus,” Drustan said softly. “Da would never turn his back on you. And the timing couldn’t be more fortuitous. The spring equinox is but a few days hence—”

  “’Tis no’ necessary,” Dageus cut him off. “I can open the stones any day, at any hour.”

  “What?” Drustan and Gwen exclaimed together.

  “’Twould seem our esteemed benefactors withheld significant portions of knowledge from us. The stones can be opened any time. It but requires a different set of formulas.”

  “And you know these formulas?” Drustan pressed.

  “Aye. Because those within me do. Their knowledge is mine.”

  “Why would such knowledge have been withheld from us?”

  “I suspect they intended it as a deterrent to keep a Keltar from opening a bridge through time rashly. One might entertain the notion—say, if one’s brother died—to go through the stones that very day and undo it. But if one was forced to wait until the next solstice or equinox, one might have endured the worst of the grief by that time, and decide
against it.” Dageus’s voice dripped self-mockery.

  “How long did you wait?” Drustan asked quietly.

  “Three moons, four days and eleven hours.”

  No one said anything for a time after that. Finally, Gwen shook herself, and rose. “While you two discuss this, I’ll go prepare a room for Chloe.”

  “She sleeps with me,” Dageus said in a low growl.

  “She said you weren’t sleeping together,” Gwen said evenly.

  “Christ, Gwen, what did you do? Ask her?”

  “Of course I did,” Gwen replied, as if she couldn’t believe he’d even ask such a silly question. “But aside from admitting that much, she wasn’t exactly forthcoming. So, what is she to you?”

  “His mate,” Drustan said softly.

  “Really?” Gwen beamed. “Oh!” She clapped her hands delightedly. “I’m so happy for you, Dageus!”

  Dageus pinned her with a forbidding stare. “Och, lass, are you witless? ’Tis no’ a time for celebration. Chloe doesn’t ken what I am and—”

  “Don’t underestimate her, Dageus. We women are not as fragile as you men like to believe.”

  “Then put her in my room,” he said evenly.

  “No,” Gwen said just as evenly.

  “You will put her in my room.”

  Gwen tipped her chin up and fisted her hands at her waist, staring him down. For a moment, Dageus was reminded of Chloe brandishing one of his own blades at him, and wondered how such wee women could be so unafraid of men such as he and his brother. Remarkable, but they were.

  “No, I won’t, Mr. Big Bad and Dark,” she said. “You don’t scare me. And you’re not bullying me, or her, into anything we don’t want.”

  “You shouldn’t just go about asking people if they’re sleeping with each other,” he hissed.

  “How else was I going to know where to put her?”

  “By asking me.” He glowered but she showed no signs of budging, so he turned to Drustan for support.

  Drustan shrugged. “My wife is lady of the castle. Doona be looking to me.”

  “She’s safe here, Dageus,” Gwen said gently. “I’ll put the two of you across the hall from each other. She can share your room if she chooses to.”