Dragon Knight's Sword (11 page)

Catching one more glimpse of herself in the mirror, she grabbed her leather jacket and purse, as she headed out the door.

****

As they approached the Black Swan, they could hear laughter spill out from the entrance and the smells of food assaulted Brigid before she set foot inside. “I’m really here in the Highlands,” she whispered to herself and smiled.

Conn held the door open and as soon as they entered, cheers erupted from the crowd when they saw him. Hellos were exchanged with claps on the back, and even those daring gave hugs. It was as if he was being treated to a hero’s welcome. They simply adored him. Smiling, Brigid just stood back to take it all in, since seeing Conn laugh and jest was something she had yet to witness.

“Well, there you are!” Kate came up behind Brigid, taking her arm and leading her to one of the tables near a small platform for the performers. “I thought it best you should have front row seating.”

Hamish was heading slowly toward them with a tray full of pints, trying not to bump into anyone along the way. Brigid held her breath watching him make his way to their table. He was doing some fancy maneuvering to squeeze past a raucous pair of men.

“Here you go.” Hamish set down the tray passing the pints to her and Kate.

“I see Conn is talking with the MacGregor’s.” He nodded to where Conn was standing with a group of men.

“Do they always acknowledge Conn that way?” Brigid asked, still watching as others greeted him as if they had not seen him in ages.

Kate looked back toward Brigid with a look that was more cautious as she spoke. “Aye, it’s been some time since Conn’s returned to these parts.”

“Did he grow up here?” Brigid asked, as she took a sip of her pint. “Delicious,” she muttered softly.

“He has family near and around these parts, but nae, he did not spend his young days here,” responded Kate.

Laughter warm and rich came forth from Conn. Brigid continued to be in awe of this man until suddenly a sharp memory invaded her thoughts—the man in her dreams. Why would her heart dwell on a fantasy when here in front of her were real live men? So many too, she thought,
and
they made them big here in the Highlands. Yet, there he stood within her thoughts and heart—her dream Highlander. “Ridiculous!” she snapped.

“Brigid?” Kate had placed her hand on Brigid’s with a questioning look on her face.

“Nothing, Kate,” giving her a small sad smile. “I’m just thinking utter nonsense and how my life seems to be a bit...
lonely
. I’ve only been here a few days, but it seems as if my soul has found a home here in Scotland.” With a sigh and another gulp of her pint, she continued, “I think things will have to change once I return back to the States.” Brigid squeezed Kate’s hand in reassurance, and returned to look out at the crowd.

“Perhaps, your man is closer than you think,” said Kate squeezing Brigid’s hand back.

She managed to shrug and say offhandedly, “Not enough time, unless he’s here in the pub tonight.”

“One never knows, lass,” laughed Kate. “Tell me about your store in Seattle. Do you sell many old antiques?”

Brigid smiled just thinking about her shop—a shop that gave her joy and kept her grounded. A shop to let her explore Scotland until the day she received the sword, sending her on a journey she was still trying to figure out.

As she continued to talk to Kate, Conn strolled over, sitting down across from her. Then Hamish sauntered over bringing them their meal. And what a meal it was. There was shepherd’s pie, cheesy potatoes, and fresh baked bread. More pints were ordered, and the conversation turned livelier. The atmosphere was warm and infused with friendship. Brigid loved every bit of it. It took her mind and heart off her nonexistent love life, and the trip back home, which had left her with a sinking feeling within.

“Oh, look,” exclaimed Brigid. “They’re setting up for the music.”

Conn leaned lightly toward her, since the noise in the pub had risen considerably. “They’re called the Wicked Brothers.”

“Are they really related?” she asked, smiling.

“Nae, not by blood, only by clan.” He leaned back sipping his pint.

The crowd had started to quiet down. A couple of men came over to the table, and Conn introduced them to Brigid as Rory and Liam MacGregor. They had the same build as Conn and similar striking eyes. Rory’s hair was more golden than Conn’s, and Liam’s had reddish hues streaked throughout. She wondered if all of Conn’s
cousins
were this tall and gorgeous. He explained they were distant cousins. However, Brigid thought they all looked like brothers.

She watched as they bantered back and forth, and at times, it seemed as if they had their own mental conversation going on. They joked with her and asked her if Conn had been taking care of her. Then they would wink at Conn and laugh, as he gave them a scowl.

“Listen, Brigid, if you tire of this old man, just give me call,” spouted Liam with a wink.

Blushing, she just shook her head no. All these men were so ruggedly handsome, but again an ache for someone else skittered across her skin. When she looked into Liam’s eyes, there was a glint of something else, but Rory slapped a hand on his shoulders, and the moment was lost. Brigid had never been the focus of so much attention. She thought herself too tall, too curvy, and hair that at times was just a wild mass of curls.

Sitting back, she told herself she was going to enjoy all of this attention, and the sexy scenery, too. Another round of pints was ordered, and the music started.

The Wicked Brothers played for the crowd for over an hour. Then they started taking requests. Some of the requests were ballads, and others were playful and more current. They became loud and boisterous until they sang the ballads. Brigid knew most of the older ones, and the crowd became silent during the mournful ones. She became tearful just listening to the words and haunting tunes.

Kate was silently weeping as well, and passed her some tissue. Looking up, Brigid saw another man had come forth. “Who’s that?”

“It’s, Tuck, the storyteller,” sniffed Kate. “He is one of the best here in these parts.”

He reminded Brigid of a gnome. His face was old and weathered with deep penetrating eyes that spoke as if they had seen much of this world, and gray hair that stood up in spikes at various places on his head. He placed a stool in the front, and the band became a quiet accompaniment.

The chatter in the room became silent, as he put up his hand to signal the start of his story. “Let me tell you a story of our dragon who dwells in the loch and silently awaits the return of her knights.”

Brigid gasped, placing a hand over her heart.

He glanced her way, and as he tilted his head, he gave her a knowing smile, then continued in his telling of the tale. She sat enthralled, already knowing much of the story, but he recounted details as if he had witnessed them. She found it fascinating that at the end of the story—there was hope. A round of cheers and clapping ensued.

Brigid was stunned when Tuck jumped off the stool, and walked over to their table. Introductions were exchanged, and Tuck took a chair next to Brigid.

“Well, well, so this is the bonny lass who has kept Conn absent from the glen.” Tuck chuckled as he gazed at Brigid.

Embarrassed by his words, she quickly said, “He’s just showing me around the glen. However, I’m sure I can do fine by myself if he’s needed elsewhere.”

Conn just sat there with his arms folded across his chest, an arched eyebrow the only response to Tuck and her statements.

“I found your story fascinating, Tuck.” Brigid was hesitant, but she realized Conn had probably told Kate and Hamish about the sword. Therefore, what could be the harm in telling Tuck?

He swiveled toward Brigid. “Ah yes, one of the saddest, too. You ken the tale?”

“Yes, and I believe I have one of the relics.”

“Sweet Danu! Then ’tis true?” Tuck looked at Conn for confirmation.

Conn gave one nod meaning he was correct.

“Tell me, Brigid, how did you come upon the sword?”

She recounted from the beginning how she received the sword, leaving out the details of her dreams. She managed to convince Tuck that after doing some research with Archie, it was determined that she should return the sword to the Clan Mackay here in Urquhart Glen.

Conn added, “Kate believes the mistress of Castle Aonach is a Mackay, and possibly descended from the original Mackays of Urquhart.”

Tuck nodded and took a swig of his ale. Then exhaling slowly, his gaze focused on Brigid. “Lass, what you have been entrusted to do is not for the weak. Your journey is about to begin.”

She was startled by his words and took a quick breath of astonishment. “
What
?”

He jumped down from his chair, went over, and grasped both of her hands, placing a kiss on each. “May the light of the fae guide you on your path, for danger lurks within the shadows.” Giving her a slight bow, he turned to Conn, quietly speaking. Apparently, it was not for her ears for he uttered it in Gaelic to him.

Then with a nod of his head, he left a stunned and speechless Brigid.

Chapter 16

“The dragon looked down upon the young knight, and asked, What is the difference between a myth and a legend?”

“
Who
?” Duncan rasped. With a look of puzzlement over his features, he waited for an answer.

Holding his palm up to still any more questions, Cathal glanced up toward the night sky as if listening for something. Gazing back toward Duncan, he just shrugged his shoulders and went over to the fire. Bending down, he grabbed some more dirt and tossed it onto the blaze, which seem to respond in kind with more heat.

Duncan ran a hand through his hair and across his face in frustration. He was bone tired, and the fire was not reaching the chill within. Cormac sat next to him in brooding silence, sword extended across his knees.

Cathal came forward and sat down. “I can only tell ye that the Guardian is sending someone of great importance. Ye must be mindful and alert, my son.” Sighing, Cathal continued, “Life is sacred, Duncan. To forfeit a life will not end or break the curse.”

“Ye dinnae ken that,” Duncan said wearily.

“Ye are still blinded by fury and grief and cannot hear the words of the Guardian. Yes, there is danger in your path, but there is also hope.” He hesitated briefly before stressing, “Margaret is
gone
. However, ye have a duty to unite your brothers and heal the scar, which has continued across your lands.”

Duncan stood and went before the fire, hands outstretched in front of the flames. He remembered the words of the Guardian, but he still did not know their meaning. What
if
Cathal was correct? Had he really been blinded by his grief this past year so as not to see another? Perhaps there was another path. Sweet Meggie was gone, and he owed it to his brothers to bring them back to the Glen. They may not want him in their lives, but he would sell his soul to bring them back home.

He could only nod solemnly in agreement with Cathal.

“We shall spend the night here with ye, yet in the morn we shall part. Ye must find this person, Duncan. I sense the dark shadows following this one, too. Only
ye
can be their protector. I don’t see from which direction they will come, but ye will ken when the time is near.”

Cormac looked questioningly at Cathal. “I dinnae agree with ye, druid.” A muscle clenched in his jaw, as he continued to shake his head in disagreement.

Duncan sighed. “He is correct, my friend. I go forth alone.”

****

Duncan spent the rest of the night in fitful dreams. Visions of the night Margaret died tormented him and others of demons lashing out.

However, in those darker moments, a light of beauty streamed through his dreams. She whispered to him of hope and faith. Then when the demon was ready to rip out his soul, she reached for his face with both hands and took his mouth, breathing life back into him in a searing kiss. She tasted of honey, flowers, and
hope
. Breathing in a sweetness that rocked him to the core, he responded by cupping her face and delving his tongue into her mouth to savor her sweet nectar. He felt her moan deep within him, and he shuddered with passion so deep, it pounded the blood throughout his body.

He broke from the kiss, still cupping her face when he gazed into the most bejeweled eyes of green he had ever seen.

Duncan awoke to warm lips touching and caressing his face, until the lips snorted. “Out of my face, ye foul-smelling animal.” Grimacing Duncan got up off the stone slab and patted Brandubh on his side. “Ye are a sore sight for these eyes, my friend, but your breath is one of a beast.”

Brandubh snorted as he bobbed his head.

He rubbed at his face trying to erase the memory of yet another intensely erotic dream. If he closed his eyes, he could conjure up the lovely vision again. Scowling, he fought back the desire. Why he thought one would haunt his dreams he could not fathom, and there was no time to dwell on them, either.

Looking around, he saw Cathal was as good as his word. Both he and Cormac were gone. There was a sack, which upon opening contained some oatcakes, hard cheese, acorns, dried beef, and apples. He chuckled softly, knowing Cathal had included the apples for Brandubh. The druid had a soft spot for all animals, especially his warhorse.

“It appears Cathal intends to keep ye in good spirits on our journey.”

Brandubh snorted, taking his front hoof and stomping the ground. Duncan took out his dirk and sliced an apple, giving some to him before taking a slice into his own mouth.

Glancing skywards, he noticed the sky was cloudless and the sun a warm cloak around him.

He had two thoughts—to find this person, whoever they may be, and second, he would seek out his brother, Angus. His gut told him that he probably was at Urquhart Castle. However, where he would find the other person to aid him on his quest was a mystery.

“One task at a time,” he muttered.

His soul was still heavy, yet for the first time since that awful night, a renewed sense of purpose filled him. There was hope for his brothers and their lives, and he would do whatever it took.