Midnight's Temptation dw-7 Read online

  Was that because she’d seen a Warrior before? If that was the case, that could only mean she was involved with Jason Wallace.

  Phelan’s hand tightened on her hip. “Tell me why you’ve no’ been curious to see what I look like.”

  “Do you think I’ll run from you?” she asked with a grin that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

  “Stop, Aisley. Doona jest. Tell me the truth.”

  She glanced away before she placed her hand atop his arm. “I feel the devastating power inside you. You fairly hum with it. The way you move, the way you take everything in. You’re a predator, Phelan. You’re dangerous and ferocious. I know your skin and eyes change. I know you’ll have claws and fangs, but I don’t have to see that change to know the fierce, untamed man before me is a Warrior.”

  It wasn’t exactly an answer. She was hiding something, and a part of him knew he wouldn’t like what it was. But he couldn’t push her.

  What he found with her was too pleasant to shake up. If her explanations of her past didn’t make sense, he would think she was a drough.

  But he knew that couldn’t be the case. He’d have felt it in her magic. Aisley’s magic was too thrilling and wonderful to be anything but mie.

  So whatever was in her past they would face together when she trusted him enough to share it. Until then, he would take each day they had as a gift that she hadn’t run from him.

  Twenty minutes later they docked at Armadale. Instead of taking the road leading to Skye, Phelan drove them left from the ferry terminal.

  “Where are we going?” Aisley asked.

  “I’m hungry.”

  She held onto him as he drove them slowly down the landward end of the pier to The Shed. He stopped in front of the tiny café and once more shut off the engine of the bike.

  “I hope it’s better than its name,” Aisley whispered.

  “It is. Trust me. We can spend a little time here,” he said when he saw her looking at the Ragamuffin shop, a clothing store.

  She looked back at him and smiled when her stomach growled. “Food sounds good.”

  He grabbed the door to the café to open it for her when his phone rang. “Grab us a table. I’ll be right there.”

  She hesitated a minute before she walked inside. Phelan watched her find a table as he pulled his mobile phone out of his back pocket.

  As soon as he saw Charon’s name on the screen he answered it. “Are you all right?” he asked.

  There was a choked laugh on the other end. “Aye. Should there be anything wrong?”

  “Have you no’ spoken with Fallon?”

  Charon was silent for several seconds. “What’s going on?”

  He blew out a breath and walked away from the café door. “Are you feeling any effects from the wound you suffered at Wallace’s mansion?”

  “You mean the wound that your blood couldna heal?” Charon asked tightly, softly.

  “Aye,” Phelan ground out. “I need to know if it’s doing more than just bothering you. Laura and I’ve both seen you rubbing your chest where the blade entered you.”

  Charon let out a string of cussing. “There’s something different with the drough blood on that blade. I knew it felt odd. What is it?”

  “I doona know. Fallon told me Larena says there’s something wrong with her.”

  “Shite. I’m beginning to miss the days when it was easy to battle Deirdre.”

  “When was that ever easy?”

  “It wasna at the time, but now it sure seems like it.” Charon let out a long breath. “The wound still bothers me sometimes. I’ll admit that. But I’m myself.”

  “Larena isna.”

  “She died.”

  “You practically did as well,” Phelan stated.

  Charon laughed wryly. “Ah, but then you were there. Your blood saved me.”

  “You doona know that.”

  “I do. Sonya told me how everyone in that car put their blood in my wound, but it didna do much. Until you added yours.”

  “Mine should’ve healed you instantly.”

  “Which tells me, my friend, that Wallace has been busy.”

  Phelan pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “I think I despise Wallace more than I ever did Deirdre.”

  “I never thought I’d hear you say that.”

  “Me neither. The truth is, this bastard is conniving. We never see how he’s going to hit us.”

  “Until it’s too late. I know. Is Fallon talking to Britt about Larena? Britt might be able to help.”

  Phelan glanced inside the café to see Aisley staring absently at the menu. “He has her focused on finishing her current work. When that’s complete, she’ll turn to Larena.”

  “I saw how he reacted when he thought Larena was dead. I wouldna want to see what becomes of him if he loses her a second time.”

  “It’s good that Aiden found Britt then.”

  “Speaking of finding things,” Charon said conversationally. “How is your Druid? What’s her name again?”

  Phelan saw Aisley rise from her chair and look to the door. She was thinking of running, he knew it. “Charon, I’ve much to tell you about her, but it’s going to have to wait. I’ll be in contact soon.”

  He ended the call and strode into the café. As soon as she saw him, she sat back down. “You were going to leave,” he said as he joined her.

  “I … yes.”

  “Why?” After all they’d been through he couldn’t believe she would start running again.

  She dropped her head into her hands. “I don’t know,” came her muffled reply.

  Phelan pulled her hand from her face and intertwined his fingers with hers. “You’ll feel better after you get some food inside you.”

  “I shouldn’t be here.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Here. On Skye. With you. I thought I could help and do something good. I don’t belong. I need to go.”

  He kept a tight hold of her when she would have risen. Her magic swelled, fear edging it. “Tell me what’s going on, beauty.”

  “It’s this isle. I feel … I can’t explain it. I feel out of place.”

  “Take a breath.” Once she had he said, “Good. Now, here comes the waitress. Order something. We can talk after you eat.”

  He didn’t release her hand until the waitress left. Aisley’s magic pulsed in confusion, like it couldn’t decide whether it was happy about where they were or not.

  Something was going on though.

  * * *

  Corann stood on the docks hidden by a boat as he watched the Warrior and Druid in the café. What was a Druid doing with a Warrior? And more importantly, what did the drough want?

  The fact she remained despite his use of magic to get her to leave showed she was powerful. But how powerful? His experience watching over the Druids on Skye told him to observe the two for a time. He would see where they were going.

  Isobel’s head surfaced from underwater. “Corann, did you find them?”

  “Aye, lass.”

  “Shall we question them?”

  He looked down at the fair-haired Druid and drummed his fingers on his leg. “No’ yet. Return to the others and tell them to await my word.”

  “We’re ready for battle.”

  “Let’s hope it doesna come to that. Now go, Isobel.”

  He waited until she disappeared below the water before he turned back to the Warrior and Druid. By the way the Warrior watched the female, it was obvious he cared. The Druid, however, was nervous, agitated.

  She kept looking around, almost as if she knew she was being watched. And that magic was being used on her.

  “Good,” he murmured. “You need to know I’m here.”

  When the Warrior’s gaze turned his direction, Corann stood steady. This Warrior had been to Skye before. He always came on his own.

  He would roam the land for a few days and then leave. This time was different. The Warrior had a purpose. Corann might h
ave wanted to stay hidden, but he suspected he’d be confronting the Warrior soon.

  Corann grinned when he saw the Warrior trying to see him. Corann didn’t use magic. He didn’t have to. The ship in front of him offered a shield that not even a Warrior’s enhanced eyesight could see through.

  The Warrior’s attention turned back to the black-haired Druid. The last time a Warrior had sided with a Druid had left its mark on the land.

  Deirdre had killed many of Skye’s Druids for their magic. She’d taken even more and made them slaves to do her bidding. Corann refused to allow anything like that to happen again.

  He rejoiced to find another Druid, even one that was a drough. But he’d kill her if she dared to follow in Deirdre’s footsteps.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-SIX

  Aisley wanted off the Isle of Skye. It didn’t matter what argument she tried to give Phelan, he kept telling her he would protect her.

  If she knew what it was that put her on edge, she would be able to tell him. As it was, since she couldn’t name it, he was confident he could take care of whatever it was.

  “Stubborn.”

  “What?” Phelan asked as he turned to look at her over his shoulder as he drove the Ducati along the road.

  She didn’t bother to answer him. Instead, she studied the ruins of Armadale Castle before it went out of sight.

  It wasn’t long before they reached Broadford, which Phelan told her was Skye’s second largest settlement. Despite her uneasy feeling, the views were dramatic and stunning. This was the home of her ancestors, the place where her magic came from.

  She wished she had visited sooner. Even now she could feel her magic swelling, as if it knew where she was.

  “Broadford lies in the shadow of the Red Cuillin mountains. The village origins date back to the cattle market that was held here in the 1700s. After the Napoleonic war, many veterans came here after 1815,” Phelan said when they slowed to go through the town.

  She shook her head. “You’re like an encyclopedia. Is there anything you don’t know?”

  “The bay is Broadford Bay. Oh, and there’s a serpentarium.”

  “A what?” she asked. “You don’t mean snakes, do you?”

  “Oh, aye, beauty. It’s home to snakes, lizards, and frogs. Want to see it?”

  She shuddered. “I’ll pass, thanks.”

  His laughter brought a smile to her face. Life with Phelan was certainly never boring.

  They stayed on the A87 that hugged the magnificent coastline offering staggering views of the water and Skye’s many peninsulas as they twisted and turned with the road north.

  When they reached Portree, he didn’t stop as she expected. Instead, he drove them to the Cuillin Hills Hotel and parked.

  “We’ll get a start in the morning,” he said as he shut off the bike and waited for her to get off.

  Aisley handed her helmet to Phelan as she took in the view of the harbor from the hotel high up a hillside. When she glanced at the hotel, she found the whitewashed brick to be a beautiful collection of gables. Then she caught sight of the mountain range. What had Phelan called them? The Cuillins.

  “They’re the wildest and most jagged mountain range in all of the UK,” he said as he stood beside her.

  “They’re beyond spectacular.”

  “Have you mountain climbed before?”

  She raised a brow as she looked at him. “Not exactly. Why?”

  “That’s where we’re headed tomorrow.”

  Aisley blinked. “You must be joking.”

  “Afraid no’, beauty. Now, let me tell you about the hotel,” he said as he helped her off the bike and guided her toward the entrance. “Cuillin Hills Hotel was originally a shooting lodge called the Armadale Lodge in the 1880s. They’ve continually added onto the structure through the decades.”

  Aisley could only marvel at his knowledge as they walked into the hotel. He held both of their bags, and with a smile at the older woman behind the counter, he sauntered over to her.

  He was amazing to watch. Women practically fell over themselves to get his attention. Aisley stood to the side and observed as the older woman’s faded blue eyes crinkled in the corners at something Phelan said.

  She giggled, just like a schoolgirl, her lashes fluttering. Phelan leaned an arm on the counter and flashed a bright smile Aisley knew the older woman wouldn’t be immune to. A moment later and he was handing her a stack of pound notes.

  Aisley shook her head as he walked over to her. He gave her a smile. “What?” he asked innocently.

  “Do you charm everyone?”

  “What can I say? I like women.”

  “And they like you.”

  He winked. “I know.”

  Aisley laughed while she followed him up the staircase to their room. The laughter died when she took sight of where they would be sleeping.

  “You doona like it?”

  She couldn’t tear her gaze away from the window and the breathtaking views of the Cuillin mountain range. “It’s spectacular.”

  Firmly clamping her mouth shut, she turned to find a massive four-poster bed with a dark tartan comforter. The bed faced the windows, and she could only imagine what kind of view she’d wake up to.

  “Rain is coming,” Phelan said.

  Aisley glanced out the window to see dark clouds gathering over the mountains. “I’ve often heard that Skye’s weather changes daily.”

  “The weather here changes by the hour, beauty. We’ll need to be prepared for anything.”

  “Don’t worry about me. I don’t get sick.”

  He moved with lightning speed to stand before her and grab her arms. “You’ll have everything you need before we get on those slopes. You’re mortal, beauty. You doona know what that means.”

  “You forget, I know exactly what it means. I watched my daughter take her last breath in my arms.”

  His lips pressed into a firm line. “I willna argue with you about this.”

  “Fine. I just don’t understand why you think we need to go to the mountains. Can’t we just ask around any one of the villages we’ve been through?”

  “It willna be that easy. We can ask, but we’ll no’ discover anything. What we want will be in those mountains.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “All right. Spill, Warrior. What do you know?”

  He dropped his arms and raked a hand through his hair. His gaze moved behind her to the window and mountains beyond. “That range of mountains isna treacherous for nothing. I’ve seen Celtic markings there before.”

  “Celtic markings doesn’t mean Druids.”

  “It does if you know what to look for. We’ll find whatever clues we need in those hills.”

  “I’m glad you’re confident.”

  He pulled off his shirt and tossed it in a nearby chair as he crossed to the bathroom. “Somewhere on this isle is a Druid who has the answers we seek. We just need to find that Druid.”

  “Are you sure that’s such a good idea?” she asked as he shut the door.

  “Aye,” he yelled through the door.

  She rolled her eyes and fell back on the bed when she heard the shower turn on. A moment later the sound of something hitting the window made her raise her head.

  “Rain.”

  Just a few minutes ago the sun had been out.

  She grinned when she recalled hearing a tourist complaining about the lack of darkness during the summer months. They didn’t know that during the winter there were only a few hours of sunlight.

  Aisley leaned up to grab her iPod from her purse. She missed hearing the music. Once her earbuds were in, she hit play, closed her eyes, and let the music soothe her. The agitation she’d felt while having dinner diminished.

  She wasn’t sure what it was about Skye that set her on edge, but it wasn’t a place she felt comfortable in. Phelan was right though. There was magic everywhere.

  It came through the land and filled the air. It was in every flower petal, every blade
of grass. It was in the rain, in the sea, and in the clouds.

  The only thing that came close to feeling like this was the standing stones throughout Scotland. Aisley, like any Druid, was drawn to the stones.

  It had been her ancestors who erected the many standing stones across the land. The power of those Druids had been so great, the magic could still be felt, centuries later.

  Skye was similar, except the magic felt … more solid. As if it wasn’t an echo of magic, but the magic itself.

  * * *

  Corann stood on a peak of the Cuillin mountains and stared at the hotel where the Warrior and Druid had gone. A curtain of rain fell over Portree, cloaking it in gray.

  “They’re getting closer,” Ravyn said.

  He glanced down at Ravyn and gripped his walking stick tighter. “Aye. What has the wind told you?”

  She shrugged and played with the ends of her waist-length black hair. Her bright blue eyes were trained on the hotel. “The wind tells me to help them.”

  “Hmm.” Corann had never known Ravyn to misunderstand the wind. She was a Windtalker. Unlike the Druids on the mainland, those on Skye retained the full strength of their magic, but only by being selective and careful.

  “You don’t want to help them?” Ravyn asked.

  “I worry about the drough.”

  Ravyn dropped her hands and turned her gaze to him. “The wind only tells me that she’s in danger.”

  “From the Warrior?”

  “That I don’t know. Maybe Isobel will know more.”

  Corann grunted. Isobel was his Waterdancer, and she had learned nothing more than Ravyn.

  “That means she hasn’t,” Ravyn said with a smile.

  “Doona get cheeky with me, lass.”

  Ravyn nudged him with her fist. “You like me being cheeky, old man.”

  Corann’s smile faded as he thought of the Warrior and Druid again. “Have everyone ready, Ravyn. Whether these two are just visiting or no’, I’ll no’ have us unprepared.”

  “I’ll see it done.”

  “Good.”

  She turned to leave, then paused and put her hand on his shoulder. Corann turned his head and met her gaze. Ravyn had an old soul. As a natural born leader, she had no problem taking her place among the Druids of Skye.