Duncan (Immortal Highlander Clan MacMar #5)

Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

M errick emerged from the bay and trudged up onto the white and gold shores of the small islet where the eldest Selseus came to end themselves. Clearing the sea water from his lungs and breathing in the sun-warmed air did not dispel his dour mood, but in this place, nothing could. As he passed some of the old stakes, to which he and his sire had tied those judged as deserving death over the centuries, he imagined himself lashed to the ground. He had more tolerance for walking on land than most of his kind, but within a day his body would slowly shrivel in the sun until he gasped his last.

Who may execute a king? One that seizes his throne and rule from him.

Few of his people cared to step foot on the pretty sands here, as too many of their older kin had chosen to meet their deaths in this sacred spot. Over time Merrick had grown darkly fond of it, however. He’d buried the bones of every elder he’d respected that had died here, and sometimes came to talk to them, as if they yet lingered to listen to his worries. None of them offered advice, of course, but he always still left with a sense of being unburdened. He also met his garrison commander in the small woods where they might talk and no one from the settlement would overhear them. This time Jamaran had been the one to ask to meet, which meant a matter so grave he would not risk anyone finding out about it before his king.

Mayhap he discovered where Duxor hides.

With every step Merrick took through the ferns, shrubs and small trees he grew wearier, but at least he finally understood what truly drove a Selseus to come to this place. The burdens of a long life became impossibly heavy, especially when one was obliged to rule instead of live simply and love as one wished. Had his sire grown exhausted of his rule toward the end? Merrick had lost his màthair some years before, and his sire had never truly recovered from his melancholy over being parted from her. Was that why he had allowed the rebels to take his life rather than fight for it with all his formidable will, because he had not wished to go on living without his mate?

Like me now.

Again Meg’s image appeared in his thoughts, her pretty eyes and fetching smile and fiery red hair glowing in the sunlight. She had never gazed upon him with such happiness, but once or twice he’d beheld her gifting such a look to Lady Joana. The laird’s first wife had been like a mother to the lass, and had spent much time gentling her wild, unruly nature. He had watched them when they’d ventured outside the MacMar stronghold countless times, always concealing himself as he spied on his lady and the woman she had adored.

“I hate my hair, my lady,” Meg had complained once, pushing her fiery locks away from her eyes as she filled a cup with stream water for Joana. “Do you ken the Finfolk believe wenches with red hair, we’re bad luck?”

“You’re a lady, no’ a wench,” the laird’s wife corrected. A dark beauty with gentle eyes, she’d looked after the lass since her arrival on Caladh. “Our friends in the bay possess their own customs and beliefs. What reckon you they’d think of the way you lock yourself in your room on the night of a full moon?”

Meg hunched her shoulders and gave the older woman a faintly belligerent look. “That I’m wise to avoid the wulvers?”

Lady Joana laughed. “Wulvers, they’re only stories. People dinnae change shape in the moonlight and become animals.”

“Once I saw…och, ’tisnae important.” She handed the laird’s wife the brimming cup. “I shall come and sleep in your chamber on the night of the next full moon, my lady. Then I may protect you from the wulvers.”

“I believe my lord husband shall take offense,” the older woman teased.

Merrick heard rustling in the brush, which drew his attention out of his memories and into the present. He saw and smelled two Selseus near him, but the last thing he expected to see was Jamaran escorting Duxor into the small clearing. The traitor looked ragged, his Selseus body suit unkempt and torn in several places. From his sullen, downcast expression he had been brought against his wishes.

“Why does the bastart yet breathe?” Merrick demanded.

“He left a message for me at the old watch post beyond the kelp pastures,” the garrison commander said. “He promised he’d surrender if I’d permit him speak with you.”

“Gather stakes.” Merrick drew his dagger. “Use your breath and speak while you may, traitor, for I shall give you new air holes.”

“You dinnae ken what I’ve endured, my king,” he whined. “The enchantress captured and forced me serve her.” Duxor fell to his knees. “I’ve kept her from Caladh since being made prisoner, but with the monsters she compelled me make, she shall soon find her way here. I couldnae allow her to attack the settlement and murder our people, so I escaped to warn you.”

“You lie,” Merrick said flatly. “No one could bully you so much you’d use our royal power of creation for such purposes. Nor did you ever care for the life of any Selseus.”

“Derdrui takes from mortals their bairns, and keeps them as hostages. When I first refused, she tore out the throats of three of the wee ones.” Duxor ducked his head. “I didnae wish more murdered, so I made the thing she wished. Then she wouldnae permit me stop, for she’s mad with her desires. She means pit them against the MacMar.”

What he’d said made Merrick’s grip on his dagger loosen. He could well imagine the sadistic enchantress doing exactly what the traitor described. No male, even one as selfish as Duxor, could stand by and do nothing while innocents were butchered.

Jamaran nudged him with his foot. “You said she created an army of such hybrids so she might attack our settlement.”

“Aye, so she may remove us, eejit, and clear the path to Dun Ard,” the traitor muttered, and then looked up at Merrick. “It matters no’ if you believe my claims. Only ken that the enchantress made me create hundreds of the monsters so she might enchant them. They all now serve her. She’s gathering weapons for her Cait Sith, and then they shall attack the Selseus first. Once we’ve been defeated, then shall she invade Caladh.”

Merrick turned his back on Duxor and looked out at the bay through the trees. Although he was sure his former heir was trying to shift the blame for his outrageous acts onto Derdrui, what he claimed about her intentions was likely truth. The enchantress would stop at nothing to destroy the MacMar Clan, and if the Selseus got in her way, she’d wipe them out as well.

’Tis what my sire feared most, that we’d sacrifice ourselves to protect the landwalkers.

“Take him to MacLeir,” he finally said to Jamaran. “Bid the ferryman imprison him in his sea caves until we ken what ’tis truth.”

“No, please, my king,” his cousin begged as the commander jerked him to his feet. “I must stay and help you defend our people. ”

“Och, lad, you shall. If indeed the enchantress and her army come in our waters, I shall have you staked out here as bait for her monsters.” He watched Jamaran drag Duxor off, and then walked to the opposite side of the islet, where he regarded the outer borders of his settlement before eyeing Dun Ard.

Somehow Mistress Fairburn would prove important in the coming days, but how so? Merrick could not fathom such. For now, he needed deal with another woman.

“Come out and speak with me, Mistress Scott,” Merrick called out.

A few moments later Julianne Scott waded up out of the water, her expression guilty.

“Hey, Your Majestic Highness. Um, sorry, I didn’t know you and Jam were like meeting with that bad guy here. Maybe you should start flying a blackball flag or something.” She smiled hopefully. “That’s what we do in my time to warn swimmers that the surf’s too rough, or there are no lifeguards on duty.”

Aware that she was by nature like a wayward bairn, Merrick leashed his annoyance. “Why come you here, lass?”

“I was just here, like walking through the trees looking for Fae stuff for Healer Duncan when Jam came.” She grimaced. “I heard what he told you before I jumped from there back into the water. You know that Duxor’s totes talking out his butt, right?” She saw his expression and added, “That means what he told you is complete crap.”

“Some, aye, lass, but no’ all.” He gestured for her to sit down on the sand, and when she did he joined her there. “I’ve no doubt he created hybrids, but no’ so he might save mortal bairns. He wished gather an army for his planned rebellion. The creatures likely turned on him, or the enchantress held sway over them. Some once served her as Cait Sith before the traitor changed them.”

“That sounds more for real.” Julianne rested her chin on her knees as she looked out at the bay. “You know I’m different because I grew up in the forest world, right? Sometimes I can sense things about certain people. Like how I knew Shaw was a good guy in spite of the Big Bad inside him.”

“’Tis a rare gift, such perception,” he told her, wishing he had the same.

“I think Nicole is like Shaw. I mean, she doesn’t have tats or a dark spirit inside her,” she added quickly. “She’s got powers though. More than one. And they’re not like our powers. They’re like ginormous powers. So you don’t have to worry so much.”

He wanted rather than knew that to be true. “I wish I could do as you advise, lass. ”

“Oh, yeah, that’s the other thing I need to tell you.” Julianne glanced at him. “I don’t want to, Your Kingship, but I kind of have to.”

The view of the bay went dim as the woman continued to speak, but her words became little more than a soft murmur as the waves rushed in and washed over his feet. When she stopped speaking he looked into her eyes, which had darkened, and saw something much, much older looking out at him.

Merrick suddenly remembered how Julianne had done this to him once before, which he had instantly forgotten after the fact. Whatever gripped his throat at this moment had it in such a tight hold he wondered if words would ever again come from his lips. His emotions plummeted into an abyss of despair, but then something enveloped him in light, and lifted him out again.

Finally he had enough breath to ask, “What do you wish from me this time?”

“As I told you before, my boy, time is of no consequence.” Her hand gave his cheek a gentle pat. “Only promise me when the time for the battle arrives, you will flee this place at once.”

Duncan walked Nicole back toward his bed, easing her down on the ticking before he stretched her arms over her head. The way she looked up at him, her pretty eyes filled with desire and trust, nearly made him change his mind. Yet if he allowed her to do as she wished, the laird and his wife would again convince her to attempt to separate and heal a hybrid—and that he knew would prove the death of her.

If she died here, so far from her home and family, he would never be able to scrub that blood from his hands.

“I didn’t know you were into bondage, Healer,” Nicole said as she watched him remove the length of linen from his pocket and place it on the pillow beside her head. “Shouldn’t we wait until we know each other a little better? Given my lack of experience, you probably wouldn’t enjoy this as much as you think. Are there rocks under your pillow?”

“No’ rocks.” He looked down at her as he reached for the manacles he’d gotten from the armory and concealed under the pillow before bringing her here. “Dinnae fear. I but need keep you in my bed for now.”

Nicole went still when she saw the heavy chained cuffs, but her expression remained composed as she watched him place them around her wrists. “Exactly how long is ‘for now’?”

“Until I may persuade the laird and his lady cease their madness.” Once he had secured her hands he shifted back and did the same with her ankles. That left using the wide, thick length of linen he’d brought to gag her so she wouldn’t call out for aid. “’Tis for your own good, lass. ’Tis some wounds no mortal may survive. Forgive me.”

“I absolutely will not forgive you, Duncan MacMar,” she said pleasantly, as if they had been discussing what they wished for the evening meal. “Nor will you be able to hide me in here forever. I’ll scream for help.”

“’Tis unlikely anyone shall hear you through these thick walls.” He showed her the linen he intended to use as a gag. “Only I may assure none shall.”

Nicole eyed the cloth, and still showed no fear at all. “Several guards saw me with you. Valerie and Connal will want to talk to me about the hybrid I separated. A search is inevitable. When I’m found, I will tell everyone what you did. You do have dungeons here, I assume. How would you like to run your infirmary out of them?”

That she believed his brothers would cast him into the depths for protecting a lady made his mouth hitch .

“No one shall lock me away.” He stood and looked down at her, resisting the regret that already twisted his heart. What was done was done, and she would be safe for now. “The laird and his lady shallnae search for you when I assure them I sent you with one of the vassals to visit the MacKay farm.” He extended the linen full length before he bent over her.

“Don’t, please.” Her eyes grew shadowed. “I’m helpless like this. If anyone comes in they can do whatever they want to me, and I won’t be able to call for help.”

Was she attempting to seduce him with that twisted suggestion? Surely not.

“No one in the stronghold shall harm you.” He drew the coverlet up over her shivering body, glanced at the gag, and then finally set it aside. Instead of silencing her he’d send away the nearest guards. “Rest, and I shall return in a few hours with some food and drink.”

He bent down to tuck the linens around her, and her soft lips touched the corner of his mouth. When he thoughtlessly turned his head, she bit his bottom lip. Instead of increasing the pressure to harm him, or releasing him at once, she simply held it fast, as if she were trying to decide whether or not to bite through his flesh. Neither of them moved, their eyes staring into each other’s, so close their lashes would tangle if they blinked.

Dinnae touch me, demon’s slave.

He had been hated; the plowman’s wife had loathed him. Angalan, the herbalist in the village, utterly despised him. Like her ancestress she believed him inhuman, the servant of something evil. Was that what Nicole now believed? Had his effort to protect her only turned her against him, that she would make as if to tear his very lip from his face?

Angrier with himself than her, he pressed his mouth over hers, and together they turned her bite into a deep kiss.

Yes, give me your lips, your yearning, your passion.

Duncan had taken lovers in the past—he was a man, not a eunuch—and yet none of the pretty lasses that had before shared his bed had brought him as much pleasure as poured through him now. Nicole’s mouth fused with his in a blissful sharing of damp heat, and her sweetness came into his head like a honeyed mist. A moment later he straddled her, lowering his body onto the softness of hers, aware of how delicate she had been made, but also certain she could take him. Was she not arching up under him, eager for the touch of his hands, his mouth? He would give her what she wanted, what she so badly needed –

“Stop.”

That word she whispered against his lips, but surely he’d misheard her. Hadn’t she kissed him back, and rolled her hips against his, urging him on? Duncan raised his head to see tears and fear in her eyes now, and it nearly gutted him. Chains and manacles and the threat of a gag had not terrified her; his kiss did. Slowly he pushed himself off her and the bed, and turned his back on her until he was convinced he wouldn’t rip away the coverlet and take her despite her objections.

How could he have allowed himself to even think such a thing?

“Don’t you ever do that again,” she said, her voice strained and unsteady.

“Why no’?” He turned around and saw the torchlight gleaming on her wet cheeks. “I want you. You desire me as much. Dinnae deceive yourself, my lady. The ring brought us together on the sands of Caladh. We’re meant for each other.”

“I’m not your lady. I don’t belong here or with you. Not now, not ever—and this.” Righteous fury darkened her pretty face as she jerked on the manacles, slamming the cuffs into each other. “You put me in chains because I won’t let you order me around—was that meant for me, too? Is that why your father brought me here, for you to treat me like this? ”

Her outrage made her look even more beautiful. “When we first kissed you wanted me. Aye, and wished do anything I asked of you.”

“Yes, you can arouse me, and maybe even seduce me. You’re handsome and I’m lonely. But we were never supposed to meet. I won’t even be born for another nine hundred years.” Her throat moved as she swallowed. “I want to go home.”

Duncan left his chamber quickly before her pitiful words moved him to release her. As he walked along the passage he imagined with every step turning back so he could go and free her. His heart grew so heavy that by the time he reached the infirmary he thought he might boak. Inside he found Nyall and a wounded patroller waiting for him.

“Gustin took a tumble out on the ridges,” the captain told him, “and we need talk about Mistress Fairburn.”

He closed his eyes briefly before going to the patroller and inspecting his minor gashes and scrapes. “Soak in a hot bath before bed, and scrub the dirt from your wounds before you use the pain salve I’ll give you. Any limbs you cannae use, lad?”

“I cannae walk without a limp, Healer.” Gustin pulled up the torn shreds of his trews leg to show a badly distorted knee.

“Grab him from behind,” he told Nyall, and once the captain had the man in a secure hold he extended the lower part of the leg, and placed one hand on the edge of the kneecap bone, gently but firmly pressing it back into place. He then propped the leg with a stool before wrapping the knee snugly and presenting Gustin with a crutch and the wound salve.

“Spend a night on your back, and then come see me in the morn,” Duncan told him.

“My thanks, Healer.” The patroller gingerly tested his leg, nodding before he used the crutch and limped out of the infirmary.

“Anything more?” he asked the captain as the first pain shot through his own leg.

“Aye.” Nyall shut the door behind him and leaned back against it. “Tell me why you’ve confined Mistress Fairburn to your bedchamber.”

“You didnae expect we should become lovers?” he countered, and then saw the captain’s expression. “Fack me. Never tell me you stood outside eavesdropping?”

“The two guards I bid follow the lady did. Once they heard enough, they came and reported you’d manacled her in your bed.” Nyall folded his arms. “We never imprison our guests, Healer. Nor do we place our lovers in chains. What possessed you do such?”

“You should ken. You wished toss Lady Valerie in the dungeons when she first came, didnae you?” He limped over to his shelves and took down a pain tincture. “And then attempted bed her so she’d no’ trifle with the laird. I reckon I shall soon call Nicole my lover, and then she shall plague me no more.”

“You wouldnae violate her against her will.” The captain came over to him, and took the tincture out of his shaking hands. “How many drops, three?” When he nodded he added the proper amount to a cup and filled it halfway with water. “After you’ve treated your mortal weakness, you’ll return and free her.”

“From the manacles, aye.” He took the cup and drank down the bitter remedy. “She’ll remain locked in my chamber for now while I persuade her cease her foolishness. She cannae separate a hybrid back into two creatures. ’Twill rend her in half.”

Nyall sighed. “I shall place guards outside your bed chamber, and speak with Connal and his lady. Only take good care, Brother, for I believe Mistress Fairburn’s broken heart is the one wound you may never heal.”

Once the captain left, dizziness caused by the tincture forced Duncan to retreat to his pallet, where he eased down on his back and gritted his teeth before extending his throbbing leg. After a few minutes the pain ebbed, shrinking to a tolerable unpleasantness. Since the day he’d agreed to serve as the clan’s healer Duncan had never regretted his decision, but he sometimes wondered what his long life might have been if he’d stayed away from the druids that had taught him their secrets and instead became a watcher or a patroller. Prince Mar himself had put the notion in his head that his weakness could be of use to him if he chose to use it for the clan and their vassals.

You shall make a fine healer, lad, only never tell your brothers of what you suffer. They shall coddle you, and that, ’tisnae what you need.

Duncan still wondered what his sire had meant by that. He’d always been one of the most learned, serious men of the clan, and had never wasted his youth trifling with females or pursuing aimless pastimes. When they had rescued and sheltered druids fleeing from the Romans, and he asked them to teach him what they knew of healing, they had accepted him and revealed their secrets as if he’d been born to their tribe. Even later, when he’d taken a lover, none of the women who shared his bed had ever warmed his heart.

Someday, Duncan, you shall serve all mankind, the prince had told him. Only remember that love shall prove your own salvation.