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  By this time, Fiona was arguing with Helen and Cormag, and Gregor knew it was time to step in. "We will leave at dawn. You have today and the night to ready yourself," he told Fiona and quickly walked outside to see to his horse.

  He had to leave the castle and breathe some fresh air to clear his head. Who knew what he would end up saying if he stayed another moment. He scratched the whiskers on his face. He needed a bath and a shave.

  He found his horse right where he had left her. Morgane, a white mare he had found as a filly and trained himself, had originally been a present for his sister, but after her death he had kept the mare.

  With a soft whistle he called to Morgane. She trotted to him and followed him into the barn. He found an empty stall towards the back and unsaddled her. After feeding her grain, he gave her a good rubdown.

  He thought of Conall and Glenna and their newfound love. Gregor had learned more about the Druids, the Fae, and even himself than he ever thought possible while at MacInnes Castle and the Druid's Glen.

  Who would have guessed he would have found himself in a position to choose between good and evil, and that he would actually have chosen the side of right?

  He had been gone from MacInnes Castle for a fortnight, and already he missed the magic that surrounded it. And, if he were truthful with himself, he would admit to yearning to have a family of his own after being around Conall and Glenna.

  Maybe he would even venture toward his home again. Maybe his family would welcome him, and maybe his father would forgive him.

  "Who am I kidding? I'm still a monster, and choosing the side of good one time doesn't change what I am," he said as he leaned his head against Morgane's neck. "I'm just what my father said I was. Wicked to the core."

  CHAPTER TWO

  Gregor wondered what his host would think if he stuffed a gag into his niece's mouth. The lass hadn't stopped talking from the moment he had sat down beside her, and by the little grin on Fiona's face he knew she was responsible for his placement.

  He suppressed a groan when Bridget's hand touched his arm and she let out a shrill giggle. "Oh," she cried. "You have such big arms. I bet you are really strong."

  Apparently very strong. I'm not wringing your neck.

  "I have never seen anyone so handsome before. What does a woman need to do to get your attention?"

  You mean besides keeping her mouth shut?

  Another giggle. "Fiona is watching us, but you don't need to worry about her. Many men have asked for her hand, but she has refused them all. Obviously there is something wrong with her," she said in a whisper.

  Gregor glanced at the ceiling. Someone save me.

  "I have often wondered about Fiona. She keeps to herself."

  I wish you would do the same.

  "Where are you taking her? No one will tell me. I bet 'tis a convent, 'tis it not?"

  Maybe that is where you should go to take a vow of silence.

  Keeping his mouth shut had been the wrong thing to do. "It is," she said, her eyes huge. "I think 'tis for the best. She is becoming an embarrassment to the MacDougal's. I cannot imagine someone her age not marrying. 'Tis just not normal."

  What's not normal is the rate at which your mouth moves. Don't you ever shut up?

  Bridget was about to launch into another round of talking when Cormag interrupted her. "Enough, Bridget. I think you have talked Gregor's ears off."

  "But, Uncle, he's so interesting," she exclaimed and fluttered her lashes at him.

  "Do you have something in your eyes, Bridget?" Fiona asked, a very innocent expression on her face.

  Gregor coughed to hide his laughter and turned his face from Bridget.

  "Of course not," Bridget answered. "Maybe if you actually talked to the men you might find someone that interested you."

  "Enough," Cormag said a little louder. "Off to your chamber, Bridget. We must talk."

  "I will talk to you later," Bridget whispered in Gregor's ear as she rose from her seat.

  He couldn't hide his sigh as Bridget left. Her not so obvious attempt to gain his attention annoyed him like nothing else could. Finally, he would be able to eat in peace. His gaze found Fiona and instead of the smirk he thought she would be wearing, she looked thoughtful and a wee worried.

  And it wasn't until he looked toward Cormag and Helen that he understood. Helen had barely touched her food, and Cormag only moved his around the trencher.

  Cormag sat his goblet down slowly. "Bridget has been with us for almost a year now. My sister and her husband had hoped she might find a marriage here."

  Gregor nodded, but knew Cormag didn't really wish to discuss Bridget. He was putting off the task of speaking to Fiona as long as he could.

  For several long moments the hall remained quiet. Gregor's ears still rang from Bridget's constant babbling, but his eyes roamed over the table's occupants.

  "Fiona, what do you remember of that night your parents died?" Cormag finally asked.

  Her green eyes lowered. "Moira and I left the castle and hid where Da had shown us. Moria went back for our baby sister. You came and we waited for her to return, but she never did."

  "You never asked about either of your sisters," Helen said.

  But Fiona went on as if she hadn't heard her. "Moira never returned, and you took me away."

  "Is that all you remember?" Cormag asked expectantly.

  "I recall Frang telling you to take me."

  "And when he did, I promised him I would keep you safe and return you when the time came."

  Gregor sat back, intrigued by the story. He had heard Glenna's side, but he had never imagined anything like this.

  "That time has come," Helen said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I have taught you everything I know of the Druid's and the prophecy. You will be ready."

  "So she knows," said Gregor before he thought about it.

  Fiona's green eyes blazed with fury. "I know I'm a Druid. I know I have a role in the prophecy. Why would they keep it from me?"

  He shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest.

  "What will I be ready for?" she asked Helen.

  "MacNeil," Cormag nearly spat the name. "He's the man who killed your parents. He's part of the prophecy."

  Gregor had to give Fiona credit. She was holding up well under the circumstances, and he was very thankful she hadn't burst into tears or thrown a tantrum.

  "MacNeil," she repeated, her eyes on the table. "He took my baby sister. I recall Frang telling you that. The prophecy doesn't say anything about my parents. Why kill them?"

  Gregor waited for Helen or Cormag to answer her, but they were busy comforting each other. "MacNeil came to kill you and your sisters that night."

  "He succeeded in killing one of us." Her green eyes rose to meet his.

  Her distress was palpable. "Actually, he didn't. The two girls that slept in your chamber were killed, and he thought they were you and Moira. He has only recently discovered the truth."

  "Are you telling me my baby sister survived?" she asked, her voice now raised a pitch higher.

  "Aye."

  Her chest rose and fell rapidly as his reply sank in. "And where has she been all this time?"

  Gregor leaned forward to put his elbows on the table as he studied her more closely. He hated to tell her the next part. "With MacNeil."

  "By the saints," Cormag hissed as Helen cried harder.

  Fiona's hands shook as she reached for her goblet and Gregor couldn't blame her. If Helen and Cormag had told her half the evil that resided in MacNeil, then she had every right to be worried.

  "Her name," she said after she drank from the goblet. "What is it?"

  Gregor's eyes jerked to Fiona's. "Glenna. Her name is Glenna."

  "She married the man who is laird of the castle you want to take me to?"

  "Aye." He didn't question how she knew. She was a Druid after all.

  She started plucking at her gown, her eyes lowered. "Is ... is she ... happy?"

  "Very.
"

  Slowly her eyes rose to his. "Not a day has passed that I hadn't thought of her and what happened. I have always assumed she suffered the same fate as our parents."

  "I cannot believe you didn't know," he said. "Didn't Moira tell you?"

  She stood and glared down at him, her entire body shaking with pent up rage. "Don't say that name in my presence again."

  He stood and faced her. "That is going to be rather difficult since 'twas she who sent me to retrieve you."

  "What?" Her eyes swiveled to Cormag. "How did she know where I was?"

  Cormag continued to hold Helen. "They have always known. We corresponded many times over the years."

  The anger went right out of her at hearing this. She blinked hastily as she slowly nodded her head. After a few moments, she turned and walked from the hall.

  Gregor watched her depart. Cormag's statement had affected her greatly, and he could only guess how he would feel knowing an older sibling had known where he was at all times, but had never visited. It must be a fatal blow to one's heart.

  Could that be why Fiona held such hatred for Moira?

  * * * *

  Fiona walked into her chamber and could only stare at the walls that had been hers for a score of years. While most women yearned to leave their homes and make one of their own, she had gloried in the safety of the MacDougal's love. She had known they couldn't leave her because they ruled the clan.

  Her gaze drifted to the floral tapestry that hung on the wall beside her bed. She and Helen had made that tapestry together, and she found she had a knack for it.

  She walked to the chair and table before the hearth. She often sat here and thought back to how her life might have been had her parents not been murdered. Her mind had also thought many times of her infant sister and what had become of her. Had she the same fate as their parents, or had she survived somehow?

  At least now she knew.

  With a sigh, she turned toward the bed. Blood red drapes hung around the bed. She loved everything about this chamber and wished with all her heart she didn't have to leave.

  Tears stung the back of her eyes, but she didn't hold them back any longer. Cormag had made it clear she had to leave with Gregor, even if he had to tie her to a horse. Helen had tried to tell her about it being her destiny, but Fiona had shut her out, refusing to listen.

  All those years she had thought she was safe, that her foster parent's couldn't desert her, but what she hadn't thought about was them making her leave.

  For years, she kidded herself into thinking her fear of abandonment had lessened, but she had discovered today that that wasn't the case. The fear of the unknown scared her, but worse than that was the prospect that she might come across Moira.

  They had told her to pack, but she didn't think Gregor would find anything humorous in discovering she had taken her entire chamber with her. She would settle for a few gowns and the tapestry, but she didn't want to think about that right now. There was too much pain inside her to do anything other than fret.

  She pushed aside the drapes and climbed onto bed. 'Twas her last night here, and she wouldn't ruin it with hurtful words to the people who had raised her as their own. Because of her love for them she would obey, but she would return.

  No tears, she thought as the sound of a heartrending melody from bagpipes reached her.

  No tears.

  Yet a steady stream of wetness trailed down her checks and neck.

  * * * *

  "Are you sure you know where Gregor is headed?"

  The Shadow growled and turned toward MacNeil. "Of course. I haven't led you wrong yet."

  "With every trail of Gregor's that we pick up it leads to a dead end. I would say you have led us wrong plenty of times."

  The Shadow laughed. "Oh, you have much to learn. I knew what Gregor was doing. I simply followed to make him think he had fooled us."

  "Hmm," MacNeil said and rubbed his whiskered chin. "Why didn't you confide this to me?"

  "There wasn't a need. Not until I found out his true destination."

  "And how did you accomplish that after all these weeks?"

  The Shadow laughed again. "He slept. I simply visited his dreams."

  "How do I know you aren't lying again?"

  "I would never lie to you," The Shadow said not bothering to hide the sarcasm from his voice.

  MacNeil jerked hard on his horse's reins, the bit tearing into the delicate tissue of the horse's mouth. "You tried to kill Glenna when you knew I still had need of her. You promised you wouldn't harm her."

  "This isn't about Glenna, and you had best realize that. If you want to survive the prophecy one of them must die," he lied easily. MacNeil would never survive the prophecy.

  It had been laughable at how effortless it was to lead MacNeil toward a lie. The Shadow's hands itched to wring MacNeil's incompetent, skinny neck. Too bad he had need of the idiot to fulfill his destiny.

  "If you had killed the girls when you killed the parents this wouldn't be an issue," he continued to bait MacNeil.

  And my plans to release the magic and rule Scotland wouldn't be in jeopardy.

  MacNeil again jerked on the reins sending his horse rearing and pawing the air with his front hooves. "You say 'tis my fault Conall's castle didn't fall, but you failed to kill Glenna. Not to mention the countless times you have been able to slay Moira, but haven't. Now, we are traipsing all over Scotland to kill the other one."

  In a blur of speed, the Shadow flew over his horse and pinned MacNeil to the ground with a hand around his neck. MacNeil's eyes bulged as he clawed at the hand around his throat. "Don't tempt me," the Shadow sneered as he released his hold. "Your men's courage hangs by a thread. I could easily take control."

  MacNeil shoved him off. "You need me. If I die, so do you." He rose and dusted himself off. "And as much as you might be tempted to kill me, you won't."

  "Don't be so sure," The Shadow hissed and pushed aside his long black cloak to mount his horse. "You think you know much, MacNeil, but you know less than nothing."

  "Hurry," The Shadow yelled. "I want to be at MacDougal's castle at dawn."

  CHAPTER THREE

  Gregor stood in the middle of the chamber and leaned his head to the side and cracked his neck. He had finally risen before the sun peaked over the horizon, and he wasn't in the best of moods.

  Once again sleep had not claimed him and all because the music of the bagpipes had lured him out of the castle last eve and evoked memories of his clan.

  He walked from the castle toward the barn to see Morgane. The mare always calmed him. With his thoughts in turmoil of his family and the heavy burden of returning Fiona to the Druid's Glen, he needed a moment's peace.

  While he spoke to the mare, he pictured Fiona's green eyes flashing in anger. The journey back to Conall's wouldn't be easy, and if Fiona was anything like Glenna, and from what he had seen she was, then he would have his hands full.

  The quietness of the bailey settled around him like a thick mist as he led Morgane from the barn. It had been the same stillness when he had been banished from his clan, and that memory was like a stone in the pit of his stomach.

  He raised his eyes and scanned the many faces of the people gathered in the bailey. They had come to farewell Fiona, and their devotion was evident by their numbers and sad eyes.

  "Take care of her."

  Gregor turned to find Cormag beside him. "I will. Moira will have my head if anything happens to her."

  "Aye. You must be very capable for Moira to send you."

  Gregor didn't bother to tell Cormag he had been the only one available. Instead, he nodded and waited for Helen and Fiona to reach him.

  Fiona didn't spare him a glance as she stood before her foster parents. Cormag opened his arms and she rushed into them. "Take care of yourself, lass. You'll always be welcome here."

  "Don't make me go," she begged once more.

  "You must. You will be back to visit before you know it," he added with
a smile as he pulled her out of his arms.

  She turned to Helen and the older woman broke into tears as they shared a hug. "Open your heart and glory in this, Fiona," she said and wiped the tears from her face. "Remember you are blessed with powers for a reason."

  Without another word, Fiona mounted her horse and silently waited for him. Gregor nodded to Helen and Cormag before he too mounted. They had just turned their horses toward the gate when a high-pitched shriek reached his ears.

  "Goodbye," Bridget waved from the castle doors. "I look forward to seeing you again, Gregor."

  Not if I can help it.

  Fiona laughed deep in her throat. "I think you have found yourself an admirer."

  Gregor tapped Morgane with his heels and trotted ahead of Fiona. "I would rather eat dirt."

  This time her laugh washed over him like warm sunshine on a cold winter's day. Frankly, he didn't like that feeling. It only reinforced his fear that he was beginning to care again.

  And that couldn't happen.

  He settled himself into the saddle and concentrated on the long road ahead of them. The one thing he refused to think about was the fact they were very near his family's land.

  It was too painful and brought up long buried memories he was better off forgetting.

  He glanced over his shoulder and saw that Fiona lagged behind. Then that eerie sense he had when something was about to happen assaulted him. And he knew.

  Despite his attempts to dissuade any followers to his destination, MacNeil had found them. The journey to the Druid's Glen might very well claim their lives.

  "We must get to Conall's home soon," he said and tried to make his voice as casual as possible. "We mustn't dawdle."

  "Dawdle?" she spat. "Excuse me if I'm dawdling, but I am leaving my home that I may never see again. I think you could show me a little more compassion. Look," she said as she stopped her mare. "Isn't it a beautiful place?" she asked and looked back at the place that had been her home.

  Gregor squeezed his eyes closed and pulled up on the reins. Morgane came to a halt and tossed her head in agitation. The mare felt his urgency and didn't understand why they had stopped. He waited until Fiona was even with him before he reached over and grasped her reins.