The Magic of Highland Dragons (13 page)

He let out the breath. “I took it.”

Drust turned immediately to gape at him, open-mouthed with disbelief, while Bren stared him down, tightly leashed fury in his eyes, his voice still deceptively calm.

“Explain yerself little brother,
now
.”

Eian took another deep breath. There was no going back now. “Well, Dirc came to me with this plan.”

Bren immediately groaned and pressed his palm to his forehead as if in agony. “I should have kenned that wicked old man would have something to do with this!” He heaved a weary sigh. “Go on, Eian. Tell me everything.”

“He said he couldna come to ye, because ye would never go along with it, and it was our one chance to make things right. He said he had a suspicion, but he wouldna tell me what it was. He wouldna tell me much of anything at all. Except that he’d gotten a hold of an old book of clan lore that said the Dragon Ring has certain special powers.”

Bren interrupted again. “Of course it does! Which is why it remains locked in the chest!”

Eian shook his head. “Nay… other powers, beyond those we ken. According to the writing…” Eian paused and winced a little as if he expected Bren might lash out at him for his next words. “According to the writing it can find its true master’s soul mate, and bring her back to him.”

Despite himself, Bren felt his stomach drop a little, while at the same time his heart leapt into his throat. If only that were so. God, what he wouldn’t give… but he quickly covered his other emotions with more outrage.

“And Dirc believes this to be true?”

“Aye, he honestly does. That much I could see for myself.”

“So ye took the ring from the chest and gave it to Dirc, to do with as he pleased?”

Eian flushed and dropped his head a little. “Aye. I thought it was for the best, Bren. I thought…”

Bren cut him off with a terse wave of his hand. “Where is the ring now? Does Dirc still have it?”

Eian shook his head. “I dinna ken. He said something about sending it to find her, yer mate, I’m supposing. At first I thought he was crazy, but he was so convincing… and I ken how much ye wanted… I’m sorry. I didna mean to cause any harm. I only meant to help.”

Bren closed his eyes for a moment, then looked at his brother. He had lost much of his anger when he realized Eian did what he did for him, even if he was a misguided fool to believe anything Dirc told him. But he would deal with Eian’s punishment later. The missing ring was the bigger problem right now. It had belonged to the Mac Coinnach Clan for… as long as anyone could remember, and it was said to hold within it the powers of both their fortune, and their destruction.

“This is serious Eian. Ye ken the power that ring has… if it were to fall into the wrong hands…”

“I ken. I’ll find it, Bren. I’ll start right now, even if I have to hunt Dirc McInnes down myself.”

“See that ye do, Eian. Ye ken I never enjoy having to punish ye. Although this time… this time might be an exception. I’ve had quite enough of all this shite about soul mates and destiny. Nay a bit of it makes a damn scrap of sense.”

And yet, there was one woman… if Bren could have chosen any woman in the world to be his true mate, he would have chosen her. Faith. If only the ring had found
her
, had brought her to him, he would be a happy man. But he should not be thinking of such things, because he knew damn well better than to raise his own hopes. Dashed hopes only led to heart ache, and he had no time for such things. Lust, and the satisfaction of it, on the other hand, was something he could
always
make time for.

***

Beltane. The ancient rite of fertility and spring, and the reawakening of the Earth. Perhaps the most important celebration of the year for his people, and Bren had to make sure they would all be safe this night. He patrolled the woods at the eastern side of the castle once again, checking the wards that had been set to help keep out all evil and dark magic, or at least warn of its approach, and the stationing of guards at the outer perimeter of the castle’s forest. The guards were to be the first line of defense should an attack occur this night, because Bren himself intended for once to fully partake of the festivities, and there was one lass in particular he intended to pursue. He had never felt so much anticipation before; he was almost dizzy with it. A single day had never seemed so long, even with all of the preparation for the sacred ceremony that night, and the feast and blessings to be held tomorrow for the entire village. Every hour felt like ten to him, until finally, finally the sun began to dip over the hills, its golden light dazzlingly brilliant just before it sank out of sight.

As dusk fell, the fires were lit, the flames leaping and crackling and sending showers of smoky sparks up into the sky. People began to gather around the circle of standing stones, waiting to witness the ancient rite performed on the eve of Beltane that would help to balance the light and the dark, and protect and nourish the people of the Mac Coinnach Clan for the coming year. They would pray for fertile fields, good crops, and the health of their families. They would pray for healthy children to be born, and boys to grow into strong warriors. And they would pray that their chief would continue to be a good and strong leader and keep the dark magic at bay.

Bren, dressed only in a kilt of Mac Coinnach tartan and with his sword strapped across his back, walked toward the circle, his brothers following closely behind. Faith watched him from her place on a small rise, where she stood with a group of the kitchen maids. Her heart beat faster in the expectant hush as the crowd parted, forming a sort of avenue that Bren continued down, head held high, eyes straight ahead, as if all those people had not been standing there just seconds before. He walked calmly into the center of the circle, Eian and Drust following and stopping behind him, one to each side. Bowing his head, he pulled his sword from its sheath, holding it up before him for a moment before dropping to his knees and laying it on the ground before him. His brothers also dropped to their knees. Bren raised his head, and the crowd seemed to hold its breath, waiting, anticipating, almost vibrating with tension. He closed his eyes, lashes dark against his cheeks in the glow of the firelight, a light breeze blowing dark tendrils of his hair against his cheek. Faith could not look away, completely captive to the scene unfolding before her, just as enthralled as all of the others around her. Bren had a natural charisma that drew people in, made them want to watch him, be near him, be a part of what he was a part of.

Then he began to speak, in a language she could not understand, but the words themselves were beautiful, his steady voice both powerful and mesmerizing. He raised both hands above his head, his face to the sky, strange words still rolling off his tongue, the crowd’s attention rapt. The earth beneath her feet seemed to tremble a little, but maybe it was just the people all around her, or her imagination, which was never in short supply. No, there it was again, stronger now. Were there earthquakes in Scotland?

There was suddenly more light, and she glanced back to see the fires flare up, larger and brighter than before. All of them at once, yet the air was still except for the little breeze. She drew in a little breath of surprise and looked at her companions, but no one else seemed to be noticing the odd things happening around them. Bren was picking up the sword now, and the glint of metal reflecting the firelight drew her attention back to the circle. She watched in fascinated horror as he slowly drew the blade across his left forearm, and a line of blood welled up, dark red, almost black in the waning light. He held it up, letting the blood flow onto the ground below. The trembling of the earth abruptly stopped, and the light dimmed as the flames of the fires sank down to where they had been before. Bren stood, looked out at the gathering of his people, and raised his arms high, as if in triumph. Faith thought for a moment that she was watching some ancient Celtic god come to life in front of her eyes. He was just that magnificent. Voices suddenly erupted all around her, cheering and shouting. Bren smiled at them, spoke a few more unfamiliar words, and then left the circle. Faith thought she must learn what ever language he was speaking, because the words of it seemed to hold so much more beauty and significance than the ones she could speak and understand. She felt almost as if the words themselves held secrets within their meanings.

People began moving away to where the fires burned, eager now for the rest of the night to begin. Through the milling crowd Faith saw Drust come forward to hastily wrap a bandage around Bren’s arm and tie it tight. God, no wonder the man had so many scars.

The music started to play, lively and loud, and the magic of the night was well underway. People were soon dancing barefoot around the fires, spinning and whirling, faster and wilder as more ale and mead was consumed, and inhibitions set free, and then freer still. Those who were not able to dance sat and watched, clapping in time to the music, and shouting their approval to the others, spurring them to ever faster and wilder movements.

Faith had no intention of dancing, content to watch the others, not sure she really belonged here this night, in this world. There was something more to everything going on here than she understood, or might ever understand. It was terribly foreign, yet strangely familiar to her, all at the same time. But despite her doubts, she was having trouble keeping still, her hips swaying to the insistent rhythm of the music. When Fiona flew by with some of her friends, grabbing Faith and pulling her into the fray, she gave up trying to keep still, eventually dancing with as much abandon as anyone. She had never felt so wild and free and full of the joy of life. She understood, in her very soul, why this night was so important to these people. Why it had always been important. And always would be. It was more than a celebration of spring time and the rebirth of the world; it was also a time for renewal of the soul.

As full night set in with its shield of darkness, groups of giggling women began to slip away into the woods. Not long after, groups of men, fortified by one last cup of ale, followed after to hunt their prey in the moonlight. Faith watched them go with a laugh at their antics, but she had no intention of going into the woods that night herself. As much as she was enjoying the music and the dancing, she knew very well what happened otherwise, and had no interest in losing her virginity to a stranger up against a tree. Not that there weren’t several men here worth a second look, she thought. Her gaze went automatically and unwillingly to the laird, drawn to him as if by an invisible thread.

He was currently surrounded by several women, all vying for his notice. At that moment, he threw his head back and laughed at something one of them said, showing his perfectly straight, white teeth and sculpted jaw. Then a few locks of wavy hair fell over one eye, and his gaze met hers. He gave her a closed-lip smile, eyes full of mischief, before returning his attention to the women who were still fawning over him. A pang of something oddly like jealousy hit her in the chest, even though she told herself such feelings were ridiculous under the circumstances. After all, she was trying her best to stay away from the man, wasn’t she? But whatever she was feeling, whether jealousy, envy, or something else, it was strong enough that when a group of girls grabbed her arms to drag her into the woods with them, she went, willingly and without much further thought. Once into the cover of the trees, they all scattered, giggling and shrieking with excitement, and Faith had to admit that the rush of freedom and exhilaration she experienced running barefoot through the woods in the moonlight while others did the same was like nothing else she had felt before. It was as if she was one with the night, a living part of it, belonging to the earth and to the forest, and free to keep running as long as she pleased, and anything at all might happen. When at last she slowed to a walk, catching her breath and letting her heart slow, she could hear voices all around, echoing through the trees in the dark. There was the high pitched laughter of young women, their delighted yelps when captured by the man they fancied, and the deeper growls of those men who had caught their prey. Faith had to smile. And, she finally admitted to herself, she wished she could join in the excitement… all of it. To run free, knowing your lover followed you, and that he would catch you, drag you down beneath him… and then…well, she had heard the rest could be quite wonderful, at least if you were with the right man. This world she found herself in was so different from the one she had known, but she liked it.
I think I could be happy here.
The thought came to her unbidden, but she paused to turn it over in her mind. It was a beautiful place, magical… and alive.
She
was alive here, in a way she had never been before.

She heard a sound like a soft footstep, just behind her. She tensed, held her breath, prepared either to run or to turn and greet a friend. But before she could do either, two strong arms wrapped around her from behind. She knew his scent at once. Before she could even form another thought she had closed her eyes and melted back against Bren, as if she had only been waiting for him to find her. He had followed her. Left all those fawning women to follow
her
. He leaned closer and trailed feathery kisses down her neck that were so very hot and seemed to burn her skin. Made her heart race. And were quickly making her come completely undone. The magic of the night was getting to her, damn it. She was finding it so hard to pull away. She didn’t want to pull away. And she didn’t want him to stop what he was doing. His hands skimmed over her ribs, across her stomach, back up to her breasts. His mouth was near her ear, his breath warm.