Faelan: A Highland Warrior Brief (7 page)

One of them licked her red lips. He’d seen her in here before. The other—he didn’t recognize her—looked ready to faint. He took them both upstairs. Something he’d never done before. Two women at once. Bollocks. He’d only had a couple of women in all. The Council didn’t want the warriors
consorting
, as they called it. It was against the rules. The warriors needed to focus on destroying demons instead. He was tired of demons, and he was tired of rules.

The boldest lass showed him to a room. “I don’t think I can do this, Maggie,” the timid girl said, staring at Faelan with wide e
yes.

“Are ye daft? Do ye know who this is?” she asked, as if he couldn’t hear. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll do just what he wants.” She put a hand underneath his kilt, running her fingers along his thigh. She smiled. “And we might even have a bit of fun.” Maggie pulled him toward the bed. He tripped and fell back, his head as unsteady as his feet. Maggie lifted his kilt. “You see that, Jocelyn? We’re gonna have a fine time.”

Jocely
n paled and ran from the room.

“Never mind her. It’s her first day. She’s not been with a man yet. Mayb
e it’s best it’s someone not so...
” Maggie chuckled and waved her hand at his groin. “Healthy.” She lifted her skirt and climbed on top of him. “And that means there’s more for me.” Her red lips curved, and then started to change. Demon! Before he could throw her off him, he saw the familiar dark hair and haunting green eyes. Not a demon. Ju
st his dream lass haunting him.

“Leave me alone,” he shouted.

Maggie jumped off hi
m, still holding up her skirts.

“I don’t know you,” he said to the image. “Leave me alone.”

“Why it’s me, Maggie. You asked me to come up.”

Faelan blinked and the ghostly face disappeared. Maggie peered at him as if he were daft. He closed his eyes. “Come here, Maggie. Help me get this ghost out of
my head.”

When he woke next, it was to another familiar image. This one dark-haired as well, but the eyes weren’t g
reen. They were dark and angry.

“What the bloody hell have you done?”
Tavis jerked the covers back, letting the cold air rush over Faelan’s naked body. “Ma’s sick with worry. The whole clan’s looking for you.”

“I don’t know...
” His tong
ue was too thick for his mouth.

“Get up.”

Faelan tried to get up bu
t his legs weren’t cooperating.

“How much did you drink?”

“I don’t remember.” He stood up and saw his kilt on the floor on top of his shirt. One boot was at the end of the bed. The
other was by the door. “Where’s...
” What was her name? “Maggie?”

“She’s downstairs.”

“Did I...
”

“How should I know? You’re naked aren’t you?”

He looked down at himself, wondering what he’d done. Hoping he hadn’t done anything. “She was here.”

Tavis shoved Faelan’s shirt at him. “Who?”

“Her. The lass.”

“There’s lots of lasses here. I can’t believe you came upstairs with one,” he muttered,
slapping Faelan with his kilt.

“The one from my dream. She was here.”

Tavis frowned. “You mean she’s a whore?”

He didn’t know where it came from; frustration, grief, or maybe because his head was still soggy with drink from which he didn’t normally partake. But he swung his fist and caught Tavis in the jaw.

Tavis drew back his own fist, then stopped and rubbed his jaw instead. “What the hell was that for?”

“She’s not a whore.”

“Then what was she doing here?”

“She wasn’t here.”

“You just said she was.”

“I saw her face...
” Faelan sat back on the bed, kilt in hand.

“Who is she?”

Faelan shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“You’ve been dreaming of her for years. How can you not know?”

“I’ve never met her. She’s just always there in my head.”

Tavis’
eyebrows rose. “Blimey. Did you dream of her here? Bet Maggie didn’t like that.” He helped Faelan dress and put on his boots. “I know why you’re here, but getting drunk won’t make you forget.”

“I don’t want to forget,” Faelan said.

“It won’t make it hurt less either. Maybe for a few hours, but when you wake, it’ll be staring you in the face again. It was his choice, Faelan, and you can’t change that.”

“He was going to be a farmer.”

“I know. I’m sorry, but he did what you were trying to do. Save him, and us. If Kieran hadn’t done what he did, that would be you buried in the ground instead o
f him. Come on. Let’s go home.”

It wasn’t easy getting there. He was unsteady and kept slipping, but Nandor shifted to keep his weight balanced. “Where are we going?”

“To the tunnel. There’s still a crowd at the castle.”

“I thought everyone would have left by now.” The visitors had already delayed their departures so they could attend Kieran’s funeral.

“They’ve been looking for you. And unless the Mighty Faelan wants his reputation t
arnished, we’d best sneak in.”

The weeks and months moved in a haze, more demons and more battles, but every year, when he was home, on the date of Kieran’s death, Faelan went and sat by his grave. Sometimes his brothers went with him. Sometimes he went alone. He never forgot Kieran’s friendship, his sacrifice, and he never forgot that it was his fault Kieran had died.

Chapter Five

Four years later

Near Beauly, Scotland

A shadow moved between him and the fire. A woman. It was her. She walked toward him, her body hidden by the darkness. He strained to see her face, but as always, it was cloudy. But he could feel her. He had no trouble with that. She stooped and pulled back the blanket he’d thrown over him and joined him in his bedroll. She was naked. His hands made up for what he couldn’t see. He touched and stroked until he’d covered every bit of her, then he started with his mouth. He nuzzled her neck, and moved down to her breasts, and kept going until he’d tasted all of her. She tasted like honey and sunshine, and when she moaned and pulled at his shoulders, he slid up her body and opened her thighs to slip inside—

Faelan woke, his loins throbbing. He was face down with nothing underneath him but the earth and his bedroll. Bollocks. The dream again. If it was a dream how could he still taste her on his tongue, hear her name on his lips? Her name. He grabbed for the memory, yanking it like he might yank a line to snag a trout, but the memory slipped free before he could grasp it. Damnat
ion. Why couldn’t he remember?

“He’s at it again,” Ian muttered from his bedroll
on the other side of the fire.

They were on their way back from a battle in Edinburgh. Ian’s demon, this time. Leaves crunched as one of his brothers shifted. Faelan didn’t move. He was still hard and aching from the dream, making it damned uncomfortable lying face down on the ground, but he didn’t
want them to know he was awake.

“Faelan needs a wom
an,” Tavis said, his voice low.

Ian snorted. “He’s got one.”

“A real one,” Tavis said. Something hit the fire an
d the flames hissed.

“Makes no sense,” Ian said softly. “All men dream of lasses, but the same one for years, and he doesn’t even know he
r name? That’s bloody strange.”

“This is one puzzl
e you won’t solve,” Tavis said.

“He could be lying.”

“You know Faelan doesn’t lie.”

“Then she must be his mate,” Ian said.

“He doesn’t have a mate.”

Neither brother spoke for a moment, and Faelan listened to the fire sizzling and wished he could go back to the dream, or get rid of
it. It was becoming a torment.

“Maybe his spirit recognizes her, even though he doesn’t. The Watchers aren’t the only ones who have strange dreams. You know that.”

“That I do,” Tavis said.

Faelan shifted slightly, trying to get more comfortable. He and Tavis both seemed plagued with strange dreams. But where he dreamed of a woman, Tavis dreamed of being buried alive, and other disturbing things. At one time, their father had wo
ndered if Tavis was a Watcher.

“It’s a mystery, I reckon,” Ian said.

“Aye. But the only mystery I’m worried about now is how to get a good night’s sleep with only a couple of hours until morn. Between your snoring and Faelan’s dreams, I’ve not had a wink of sleep. The Council won’t like it if we’re late. This meeting’s important, and we were expected back yesterday.”

Faelan rolled over after he was sure his brothers were asleep. He lay back, thinking on what Ian had said. Usually a warrior found his mate after his duty was over, but occasionally it happened earlier. In the beginning, Faelan figured he must have created her in his head. She was certainly bonny. More than any man could wish. But he’d always preferred light-haired women, so it didn’t make sense that he would dream up a dark-haired lover. After a few years, he’d reached the same conclusion that Ian had. She must be his mate, and now that he suspected it, it was all he could think about. He looked at the night sky, the stars twinkling as if they knew a secret, and wondered who she was, what she was doing at this moment. Sleeping? Perhaps she was looking at the sky dreaming of him. Where was she? Ireland? Many Scots ended up with Irish mates. Like his father. But in all the years he’d known his dream lass, he’d never heard her speak.

The flames crackled as a piece of wood caught fire. He closed his eyes and pulled his blanket around him to keep away the chill. “Hurry,” he whispered under his breath.
I need you
.

They woke late. Cursing, they left for the castle, riding like madmen. They dropped the horses at the stable, leaving them with the lad there, and hurried inside the castle. Voices were coming from the library.

“Pish! We’re late,” Ian said.

They stepped inside the room and everyone turned. There were several warriors present, most of them familiar faces. The most familiar one frowned at them, a look matched by the chief elder who stood at the front of the roo
m, his arms folded behind him.

Faelan tipped his he
ad. “Our apologies, Chief Elder...
everyone.”

A couple of warriors that Faelan knew grinned. They’d all been on the wrong side of the Council at one time or another. But Faelan usually wasn’t. The meeting dissolved into a discussion of the most recent troubling events. Druan, the ancient demon whose father had centuries before created the plague, was causing problems. The Watchers were issuing ominous warnings of danger. There had been an unusual number of battles and many warriors were dying.

One of the Watchers, a thin, worried-looking man, spoke up. “I’ve had troubling dre
ams. Nigel Ellwood came to me.”

The chief elder frowned. “The Watcher who disappeared decades ago?”

“He warned me that trouble is coming, that the Book of Battles is in danger.”

The book was a five hundred year record of battles between warriors and demons. Given to them by the archangel, the book included battles in the future. Or so the Keepers said. No one else was allowed to see the book. It was hidden in a location that only the Keeper knew. If demons got their hands on the book, they could find out the names of warriors and destroy them as soon as they were born, or while they were innocent children. They
could eliminate an entire clan.

“Did he tell you where the threat is coming from?” the chief elder asked.

“No. I awoke in the middle of the dream.”

The chief elder looked at Quinn Douglass, the Keeper of the Book, who had gone pale. “Quinn, is the book safe?”

“Yes.”

“Perhaps we should move it,” the chief elder said. “This is troubling.”

One of the other elders, an old man whose face was lined with wrinkles, spoke up. “I remember Nigel. He believed there was a traitor in the clan.”

“Nothing was ever proven, was it?” the chief elder asked.

The old elder scratched his still-thick silver hair. “If so, the knowledge died with Nigel. He disappeared soon afterwards. Most everyone thought he was touched in the head.”

“Do you recall anything specific about Nigel’s warnings back then?” the c
hief elder asked the older man.

“He felt that we needed to move the book and that the clan should have more than one location. He was quite adamant about it, in fact. He said if demons found us, we would all be destroyed. We needed someplace safe to go.”

“Was anything ever done?” the chief elder asked.

“I don’t know. I heard whispers about a secret group that was formed to investigate Nigel’s claims, but I wasn’t part of the group.”

A lengthy discussion followed and it was determined that Quinn would move the book and that the Council would appoint someone to look into Nigel’s concerns, even though they were from so long ago. Quinn offered to take on the task.

After the meeting, the Council left, and the warriors who didn’t leave to hunt their assigned demons either went back to the cottages or their rooms in the castle. Faelan and his family sat down to a breakfast fit for a king. Ma was overjoyed that all her
lads
were home. Alana was thrilled too. After breakfast, she showed Faelan a picture she’d painted of him. Then their father took them out to see the new horses he had acquired. He loved horses alm
ost as much as he hated demons.

The day passed quickly. They moved horses and repaired a fence and a stable wall that one of the stallions had kicked down. After supper, the family gathered in the library and sat by the fire talking. It wasn’t often that all of them were here together. Alana questioned them about their plans for leaving. She didn’t want them to go, but Tavis and Ian had both been assigned demons. The brothers turned in early, still tired from the hunt and having so l
ittle sleep the previous night.

That night he had visitor, but it wasn’t his dream lass. Michael the Archangel stood before him, his presence so bright he could only come in dreams. “Faelan, you must wake.” Michael moved closer to the bed, staring down at Faelan. He was clad in his usual white and gold robes, his startling beauty radiating power and strength. Demons of all orders wer
e terrified of Michael.

“The Book of Battles is in danger,” Michael said. “Terrible trouble is coming if Druan isn’t stopped. You must stop him.”

“Druan? But he’s an ancient demon.”

“Your task will be difficult. There will be a necessary sacrifice, but his plans cannot succeed. You will find him in America trying to start a war that will tear the country apart and turn brother against brother.”