Page 21 of To Wed a Highlander
Once again, three figures stood framed in the broken archway of the abbey. Only this time, the lone woman was Morgana de Moray, princess of the Highland Picts. She stood in the middle dwarfed by two very broad, very powerful men. One in the garb of a barbarian, holding an axe the size of a small man, and the other in rich, earth-toned robes, crowned with Pictish gold and holding a staff carved from the sacred ash tree.
Malcolm stepped forward, and forlorn howls and vicious snarls rang from outside the walls. He’d brought help, warriors of the animal world. His shrewd green eyes missed nothing, locking the scene away in his fantastic mind. Niall’s bloody sword, Macha’s headless corpse, Kenna’s waning flames, and the scattered, stirring Viking bodies.
“This ends now,” he decreed.
Lightning struck the ground, called down by the evil crone, and it sang along the nerves of everyone present. “That is where you’re wrong,KingMalcolm.” Badb’s lips curled into a disgusted sneer at the word. “This is just the beginning of the end. I will bring my army of souls and crush you and your people until there is nothing left but vague memories lost to the ages. I will bring with me the Horsemen of the Apocalypse, and they will trample your magick with their immortal might.”
Malcolm’s power rumbled through the earth again. The brutal angles of his regal face and the auburn hair that marked them all as de Morays promised the wrath of the Goddess and a deeper, more personal vengeance. “We are strong as three still,” he observed. “And yer healer has been taken. Ye have no powers in which to do so.”
“So you say,” Badb levitated above them, out of their reach. “But we still have something you do not,” she hissed.
Kenna dropped her head in defeat, as Niall reached her, his big form taking up vigil behind her as Malcolm whirled on her. “Kenna, where is the Grimoire?”
“It is here.” Nemain stepped from the doorway beneath the awning, clutching the Grimoire to her middle.
Malcolm made a downward sweep with his hand, and the awning caved threatening to crush the leering witch, but Badb and Nemain anticipated his attack. The girl dove and Badb caught her with a whirlwind, lifting her above the walls of the abbey.
Without an air Druid, Malcolm, Morgana, and Kenna were bound to the earth.
“The Grimoire is ours and the day is won,” Badb gloated. “We’ll be coming for you next, Malcolm de Moray, and your sister, as well. There are still four elements to wield, and I know how to break you. I’ve done it before.”
Malcolm visibly paled, but he stepped forward, his lips forming ancient words of a binding spell. Kenna knew what he was doing, and began to recite the spell with him, hoping that it brought the witches to the ground. Morgana joined in as well, her dark Berserker looming over her like a black-eyed sentinel.
Badb was too shrewd, though, and with a gust of air, she and Nemain were gone, leaving them with the wet and dark aftermath of the battle they’d just lost.
Chapter 10
Niall stood by as the two lovely red-haired women rushed forward and embraced each other with sobs and words that only they could understand. The blue-cloaked Druid could only be Morgana de Moray, Kenna’s beloved cousin. She was tall and voluptuous where Kenna was short and petite, but the family resemblance was unmistakable.
“Christ, Kenna, put some bloody clothes on,” Malcolm growled, taking his cloak off and rushing to cover his cousin.
“Or don’t!” sang a helpful voice from behind them. Niall whirled to see Ingmar struggling to his feet, his eyes round and bright as they appreciated Kenna’s pale and lovely backside. “The only good witch is a naked witch, I always say.” He brushed himself off, slinging mud from his fingertips.
“You’ll look away if you want to keep your eyes in your head,” Niall growled. “That is my mate.”
Ingmar’s eyes widened, and then he very intently began to study his boots. “Bound to a Gael, eh? Does that mean we’re staying here?”
“I am. But it is your choice, and the choice of the men whether or not they will join me. I have to help my mate regain something she’s lost. It’s important to all of us.”
“Well now, that is quite a Co‘nun’drum,” Ingmar chortled. “Speaking of, where are those lovely alchemists, they’ve made ahabitof poison, I think.”
Niall grunted. “They live, but you’ll not take revenge, the old woman who led them has been slain.”
Ingmar chuffed. “Revenge wasn’t what I had in mind, I was going to see what other fun substances they have in their stores. I’ve built up too much of a tolerance for such things to last too long. And I want to raid the wares before the other lads wake up.” He ambled toward one of the only doors left unscathed, stepping over still-unconscious Vikings in his wake.
“How did they get their hands on the Grimoire?” Malcolm demanded, “It should have been guarded.”
“I let them have it,” Kenna answered honestly. “To save Niall’s soul from becoming their eternal prisoner.”
Their gazes collided, Niall’s and his lovely mate’s, and for the first time, it truly occurred to him just exactly what she’d sacrificed to save his soul.
A shudder took him as the aftershocks of what that witch had done to him still lingered in his body. Being ripped away from one’s self, it was the most terrifying experience he could imagine. Worse than death, more difficult than pain or torture, more soul-wrenching than regret or guilt. To feel the very essence of his being as a possible prisoner. It was unfathomable torment.
And she’d saved him from that horrible eternity.
“Why?g” Niall asked her through a throat tightened with emotion. “Why would you risk all that for one man?”
“My question, exactly,” Malcolm gritted through obvious fury. “Of all the selfish, short-sighted, reckless—”
