wasn’t going to give up that easily. “Can you protect yourself with a shield of magic as Isla protected the castle?”
“Nay.”
That single word held a wealth of emotion. Frustration. Sadness. Despair.
Broc grabbed Sonya by the shoulders. “Doona worry. I’ve got a plan. Give me your cloak.”
Sonya did as he asked without question. Her movements were quick and precise. She handed him the cloak and waited.
Broc gripped the fabric and prayed his plan worked. “When I leave, put whatever you can in front of the door. The wyrran will have to come in through either the door or the window. Give them only one choice.”
“All right.”
“I’m going to go downstairs and make sure Jean and her men are safely inside.”
“Then what?” Sonya asked.
Broc looked at her cloak. “I’m going to make the wyrran think I have you. I will lead them away. It will take them a bit to realize they no longer sense your magic. By then, you and I will be on our way to MacLeod Castle.”
“How long do I wait for you?”
“You doona.” Broc saw her open her mouth to argue. “If I’m no’ back in a couple of hours, take the coin and buy the horse just as we spoke about before. You ride for MacLeod Castle, Sonya.”
She shook her head over his words. “I’m not leaving you.”
“You have to.”
“Broc—”
“I will find you.”
A deep sighed passed her lips. “I will hold you to that vow, Broc MacLaughlin.”
He was unable to hold back the smile, just as he couldn’t stop his finger from caressing her cheek. “Stay safe.”
Broc left before he kissed her. The temptation was so great that every fiber of his being told him he had to have a taste of her, had to feel her warmth against him one more time.
But he kept walking to the doorway. He glanced at her once more before he stepped into the corridor and closed the door behind him.
He waited a moment until he heard the unmistakable sound of furniture being scooted across the floor. Satisfied that Sonya was doing as he asked, Broc went to find Jean.
Just as he suspected, she was in the front of the inn. “Jean, you need to call your men inside.”
She looked him over, her gaze pausing at the blood on his breeches. Instead of demanding to know what was going on, she walked to the door and gave a loud whistle. Almost immediately the men walked inside.
Broc touched Jean’s arm. “Sonya is barricaded in her chamber. I’m leaving to take care of … something bad which is following us.”
“Is there anything we can do to help?” Jean asked.
“Stay inside. It will be too dangerous to venture from the inn.”
The men grumbled, their chests puffing in an attempt to prove their manhood. Broc silenced them with a glare. “You doona wish to tangle with what I’m going to kill. You would be dead before you could begin to realize what was happening.”
Jean shivered and rubbed her arm with her hands. “All evening I’ve sensed great evil.”
“More than you can begin to understand,” Broc told her. “Stay inside. All of you, no matter what you hear. If anything other than me comes through the door, kill it.”
With Sonya’s cloak still in his hand, he left the inn. He stood outside and listened. The night was quiet. Too quiet. The wyrran had surrounded the village. It was up to Broc to get them as far away from Sonya as he could.
Broc unleashed his god and let his wings stretch out to the side. In the next breath, he was in the air, his wings beating steadily.
Below, he could see movement scurrying around the village and through the forest. Broc let Sonya’s cloak flap in the wind. He wanted the wyrran to think she was with him, wanted them to smell her scent.
Broc spotted a small clearing in the forest and dove toward it. He wanted away from the village, but not too far that he couldn’t get to Sonya quickly.
Broc landed and folded his wings. The night erupted with the unholy shrieks of the wyrran. How he hated that sound. His disgust
“Nay.”
That single word held a wealth of emotion. Frustration. Sadness. Despair.
Broc grabbed Sonya by the shoulders. “Doona worry. I’ve got a plan. Give me your cloak.”
Sonya did as he asked without question. Her movements were quick and precise. She handed him the cloak and waited.
Broc gripped the fabric and prayed his plan worked. “When I leave, put whatever you can in front of the door. The wyrran will have to come in through either the door or the window. Give them only one choice.”
“All right.”
“I’m going to go downstairs and make sure Jean and her men are safely inside.”
“Then what?” Sonya asked.
Broc looked at her cloak. “I’m going to make the wyrran think I have you. I will lead them away. It will take them a bit to realize they no longer sense your magic. By then, you and I will be on our way to MacLeod Castle.”
“How long do I wait for you?”
“You doona.” Broc saw her open her mouth to argue. “If I’m no’ back in a couple of hours, take the coin and buy the horse just as we spoke about before. You ride for MacLeod Castle, Sonya.”
She shook her head over his words. “I’m not leaving you.”
“You have to.”
“Broc—”
“I will find you.”
A deep sighed passed her lips. “I will hold you to that vow, Broc MacLaughlin.”
He was unable to hold back the smile, just as he couldn’t stop his finger from caressing her cheek. “Stay safe.”
Broc left before he kissed her. The temptation was so great that every fiber of his being told him he had to have a taste of her, had to feel her warmth against him one more time.
But he kept walking to the doorway. He glanced at her once more before he stepped into the corridor and closed the door behind him.
He waited a moment until he heard the unmistakable sound of furniture being scooted across the floor. Satisfied that Sonya was doing as he asked, Broc went to find Jean.
Just as he suspected, she was in the front of the inn. “Jean, you need to call your men inside.”
She looked him over, her gaze pausing at the blood on his breeches. Instead of demanding to know what was going on, she walked to the door and gave a loud whistle. Almost immediately the men walked inside.
Broc touched Jean’s arm. “Sonya is barricaded in her chamber. I’m leaving to take care of … something bad which is following us.”
“Is there anything we can do to help?” Jean asked.
“Stay inside. It will be too dangerous to venture from the inn.”
The men grumbled, their chests puffing in an attempt to prove their manhood. Broc silenced them with a glare. “You doona wish to tangle with what I’m going to kill. You would be dead before you could begin to realize what was happening.”
Jean shivered and rubbed her arm with her hands. “All evening I’ve sensed great evil.”
“More than you can begin to understand,” Broc told her. “Stay inside. All of you, no matter what you hear. If anything other than me comes through the door, kill it.”
With Sonya’s cloak still in his hand, he left the inn. He stood outside and listened. The night was quiet. Too quiet. The wyrran had surrounded the village. It was up to Broc to get them as far away from Sonya as he could.
Broc unleashed his god and let his wings stretch out to the side. In the next breath, he was in the air, his wings beating steadily.
Below, he could see movement scurrying around the village and through the forest. Broc let Sonya’s cloak flap in the wind. He wanted the wyrran to think she was with him, wanted them to smell her scent.
Broc spotted a small clearing in the forest and dove toward it. He wanted away from the village, but not too far that he couldn’t get to Sonya quickly.
Broc landed and folded his wings. The night erupted with the unholy shrieks of the wyrran. How he hated that sound. His disgust
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