Darkest Highlander by Donna Grant Page A

pushed against the wyrran’s hold. She didn’t appear to notice when the wyrran’s claws dug into her skin and blood dripped from the wounds.
    “Well?” Deirdre prompted. The killing of Druids always put her in a better mood. It was the only reason she toyed with the woman now.
    “I was in MacLeod Castle for days. I can give you information.”
    Now Deirdre was intrigued. “In exchange for what?”
    “Life,” the woman answered without hesitation. “I don’t want to die.”
    “How many more years do you think you have?”
    “It doesn’t matter.”
    Deirdre crossed her arms over her chest and realized all the Druids she’d killed would’ve had information about the occupants of MacLeod Castle. She should have gotten it before she killed them, but when her fury took hold, she never thought clearly.
    Which is why she made sure to keep a tight rein on her anger.
    “Speak,” Deirdre commanded. “Tell me what you know.”
    “And you will spare me?”
    “Depends on what details you impart.”
    The woman licked her lips. “There are twelve Warriors at the castle.”
    “That information I’m already privy to.”
    “There are six Druids at the castle, including three of our own who wouldn’t leave.”
    “They were wiser than you. Who are the three?”
    “Fiona, who is mother to wee Braden, and Reaghan.”
    Deirdre smiled. “Ah, Reaghan. The artifact you all protected so diligently?”
    The woman slowly nodded. “Aye.”
    “I’ve been told she was dealt a mortal blow during the battle.”
    “Nay,” the mie said with wide eyes.
    Deirdre shrugged. “I will discover soon enough if Reaghan is dead. I learned a great deal about her while I occupied Mairi’s mind.”
    The Druid’s body began to tremble. “You were the cause of our elder spouting such hateful things.”
    “I was very convincing, was I not? Mairi’s mind had weakened in her old age. If she’d had more magic, she might have been able to put up a little fight. It was almost too easy the way I was able to take over her mind and body.”
    The mie simply stared at Deirdre, as if only now realizing how dangerous Deirdre really was.
    “Anyone else?” Deirdre asked.
    “A man.”
    “Who?”
    The woman’s chin shook as tears gathered and spilled down her face. “His name was Monro. Malcolm Monro.”
    Deirdre closed her eyes. Malcolm was supposed to have been killed by her Warriors. Now she knew what happened to the Warriors she sent after the mortal. What she didn’t know was who had saved Malcolm from the death she had ordered. But she would find out.
    “Put her on the table,” Deirdre ordered her wyrran.
    The woman screamed and tried to jerk away, but she was no match for the strength of the wyrran. Besides, Deirdre had never told her she would be spared.
    Once the woman was secured, Deirdre looked to the wyrran nearest her. “I want wyrran sent out separately to scout for Druids and any Warriors who might still be alive. They are to stay hidden, unseen by all. When they find a Druid or Warrior, they are to report back to me immediately. Especially if they find Broc.”
    The wyrran bowed his yellow head before he turned and raced out of the chamber. Deirdre turned to the woman, who was now a sobbing wretch.
    “Now. Shall we begin?”

 
     
    SEVEN
     
    Sonya smoothed her hand down the pale blue gown she had donned and reached for the comb. Her hand still ached, so braiding her thick hair was going to be impossible.
    She had awoken to find herself alone. Yet, she hadn’t feared Broc had left. She knew he hadn’t. He took his duties too seriously, and returning her to the castle was a priority.
    A soft knock sounded, startling her. The door opened and Broc stepped inside. He closed the door behind him and leaned against it.
    “Did you sleep well?” he asked.
    Sonya turned her face away lest he see her embarrassment. She had dreamed of nothing but him all night. His lips on hers, his body pressed against her, his arms holding her