Highland Nights (Druid Glen, Book Two)

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An Excerpt From: HIGHLAND NIGHTS

Copyright © DONNA GRANT, 2009

All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

Chapter One

MacDougal Castle, Northwest Highlands

June 1625

"You must be a fool then. It´s the only explanation I can come up with."

Fiona ignored Bridget and tried not to roll her eyes as they walked amid the men of clan MacDougal. Bridget constantly fell over any man who would glance at her and she didn´t understand why Fiona didn´t do the same.

But there were lots of things Bridget didn´t understand.

"Besides," Bridget continued, "you aren´t getting any younger. How many more men are you going to refuse?"

The day had begun gloomily, and it seemed Fiona´s mood would follow the sun and stay behind the clouds. She turned and looked at Bridget. She was rather pretty with dark auburn hair and eyes the shade of amber, but the lads didn´t pay her much attention.

It could be because she made a complete fool of herself any time a man was near. It was on the tip of Fiona´s tongue to tell Bridget just that, but why should she take her irritation out on Bridget? Instead, Fiona shrugged and continued her walk through the crowded bailey.

"I haven´t found a man to my liking," she lied. No need to explain the true reason.

"Well, it´s a good thing Uncle Cormag dotes on you like he does. My mother says he and Aunt Helen should have insisted you find a husband some time ago. It shouldn´t matter that you aren´t their real daughter," Bridget stated before waving and shouting to a lad who had smiled at her the previous week. "It must be because you are the only child they´ve ever known," she said over her shoulder.

The lad ducked his head and quickly walked out of sight. Fiona didn´t think she could stand another "you should be married" lecture. It was the same thing every day, and she didn´t know why she put herself through it. But she wasn´t going to sit by and get another earful.

She turned to retrace her steps back to the castle but was caught by a swarm of children who ran in front of her. It was just enough time for Bridget to catch her.

"If only you would try a little harder you might find someone who would accept you, despite your old age and that wicked tongue of yours."

"Bridget," Fiona began before her eyes landed on a newcomer who had ridden through the castle gates.

In all her years watching the men of her clan, she had never seen one sit so comfortably on a horse, and with such control, as this stranger. He pulled up slightly on the reins and the horse instantly halted.

He looked casually around the bailey until his eyes roamed her way. Her breath caught in her chest and the disappointment that filled her because he hadn´t noticed her disturbed her more than Bridget and her lectures. Then his gaze jerked back to her and she stood rooted to the spot.

For a second he stared at her before continuing his perusal of the bailey and its occupants. She had the odd sense he was looking for something, or someone, but also studying the people.

Seemingly satisfied, the man clicked to his horse and rode toward the castle. He didn´t wear a kilt so she didn´t know of which clan he held from, but she would wager her finest gown he was a Highlander, kilt or no.

With Bridget still on her tirade, Fiona left her and followed the man. He intrigued her, and she certainly wanted to meet a man who could quiet the bailey so quickly with his mere presence. Even the guards were craning their necks to get a better look at the man who emanated such power.

Her pace quickened when the stranger stopped his horse before the castle steps and her foster father emerged from the castle. She reached the steps as the stranger and her father clasped forearms.

Their words were spoken in a hushed tone and she couldn´t make any of them out. She was about to walk closer when her foster mother put a hand on her arm.

"Nay, child. Let them have a moment," she said quietly, and almost dejectedly. Her usually bright gray eyes held such sadness that it surprised Fiona.

Helen and Cormag had raised her as their own, and as far as they knew, she remembered nothing of the night her parents were killed and Moira had abandoned her.

And she hadn´t told them differently.

"Come into the hall," Cormag said loud enough to reach her ears. Fiona turned toward him and his usually jovial face was lined with worry.

Her eyes moved to the stranger who had caused such distress to her foster parents and stared dumbfounded at the man before her. Her mouth almost dropped open. She had never seen anyone so handsome.

His blond hair hung loose and wavy to just past his shoulders except for two braids that ran from his temples to meet in the back. Blond brows ran straight above eyes as black as a raven´s wing. His jaw was hidden by a shadow of a beard, but Fiona could see his wide, full mouth through the mustache.

She wasn´t usually partial to facial hair, although most men sported it, but on this stranger it was devastating. It might also be his leather-encased legs that bulged with muscles. The leather jerkin and tunic he wore allowed her to see his broad shoulders and arms, bursting with muscle and power from years of training.

He raised a blond brow at her inspection and held the door for her to enter. Fiona let her eyes pass once more over him and noted the sword slung across his back and the hilt of a dagger out of the top of his boots.

"Sit, Fiona," Cormag said. Her foster father had never spoken to her so gruffly before and she hurried to take a seat at the table in the main hall.

Whoever the stranger was, he had caused Cormag´s iron calm to crack, and in Fiona´s world that was enough to put her on edge.

To her relief, Helen sat beside her, but it was the absence of any servants that alerted her something was about to happen she probably wouldn´t like.

"Fiona," Cormag started after he cleared his throat. "This is Gregor. He´s come to take you to your rightful place."

Her stomach plummeted to her feet. "What?"

"We should have told you long ago," Helen said as the tears rolled freely down her face.

Cormag raised sad brown eyes to her. "Fiona, we aren´t your parents."

Is that all that was the matter? "I know. I have always known."

"You have?" Helen and Cormag said in unison.

Helen´s brows furrowed. "You never said anything."

"I know," Fiona said. "You made such an effort to make it seem I was your child and I didn´t wish to talk about what happened, so I kept silent."

"Oh, you poor child," Helen cried, and buried her face in her hands.

"Regardless," Fiona continued, and looked Gregor straight in the eyes, "I´m not going anywhere. I´m happy here, and I want to stay."

To her amazement, Gregor didn´t say a word. Instead he looked to Cormag, who seemed to be stunned by her words.

"Fiona, lass, I know we have indulged you. Since we were not blessed with children of our own, we thought of you as our child."

"I know that," she told him. "And for that I will be eternally grateful. I don´t know what would have happened to me that night had you not come along."

"You were so young," Helen murmured. "We never expected you to remember that night. I was afraid of the pain it would cause you to speak of it."

Fiona reached for Helen´s hand. "Don´t worry about it. I´ve been very happy here. However, I´m not leaving."

"You were always a good child. We never had any problems with you. I´m surprised you are giving us one now." Cormag stopped and ran a hand down his face. "Still, you must go with Gregor."

"Nay," she stated softly, and gained her feet.

Gregor leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. He hadn´t known what he expected when he finally reached the MacDougals´ gate, but it wasn´t the feisty brunette with blazing green eyes. She had first caught his gaze as he surveyed the bailey. Caught and held it.

It had been the green gown she wore. He´d always been partial to green, and he had wanted a closer look at her. He had gotten it when she had practically run to the castle steps. Her dark hair hung down to the middle of her back in a thick braid, but it had been her woodland green eyes that had held him captive.

When he had finally torn his gaze from her eyes, he found a pert little nose, stubborn chin and lush pink lips. His eyes had also noted her abundant curves that her gown accentuated perfectly. He had never cared for skinny women. He liked his woman to have curves, and this one certainly did.

Now, as he sat and watched the flurry of emotions that crossed her face at the news that she had to leave with him, he imagined she would be quite the temptress for any man. Of course, judging by her age, she was most likely married, and he refused to think about the disappointment that caused.

"Aye, you will," Cormag ordered. "You don´t have a choice, lass. I´m ordering you to go with Gregor. It was the promise I made when I took you."

The fire that sparked in her green eyes almost brought a smile to Gregor´s lips. The MacDougals might have coddled her, but that spirit was inbred in her, just as it was in her sisters.

"And just where is he," she said with the slightest glance toward Gregor, "supposed to take me? Back to my home?"

Gregor sat up and spoke to her for the first time. "To MacInnes Castle."

"Why?" she asked Cormag, ignoring Gregor altogether. "I won´t marry this laird Gregor is taking me to, whoever he is. I told you I don´t want to marry. I´ve no need of a man."

Cormag coughed and gave Gregor an embarrassed look. Gregor cocked his head to the side. "That might be hard considering Laird Conall has recently married."

"Oh," she said softly, and slowly sank into her chair. "Tell me why I must leave?" she begged Helen.

Helen glanced at her husband. "We knew this day would come. I´ve been preparing you for it."

"Lass, it´s your destiny," Cormag said, his eyes mysteriously misty. "You have to go."

Gregor felt as though he had intruded on a private family discussion and wished he could leave, but Cormag had stated he wanted him there. One did not simply disobey a powerful laird like Cormag, but Gregor did things his own way.

"I will leave you three alone to talk," he said, and began to rise to his feet, but Cormag placed a hand on his shoulder.

"You need to be here," he told Gregor. "I think it best that you leave with Fiona immediately. The threat has been growing. I´ve no wish to chance an encounter."

"Are you so eager to be rid of me?" Fiona said, her voice trembling with rage and fear.

Gregor wanted to explain the need for them to hasten away, but she wasn´t his foster daughter. That job fell to Helen and Cormag. But what would one more night matter? He had ridden fast and hard to get here, backtracked to make sure he wasn´t being followed, and ridden in several different routes to confuse anyone to his destination. Although he didn´t need the rest, he would stay one night for Fiona´s sake.

By the saints, he would have to do something about this sudden generosity that had sprung into his life. He had been just fine until Conall MacInnes had offered him friendship and Glenna had reminded him of his dead sister.

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 toward 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 Druids 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."