A Druid of Her Own: An Immortal Highlander Novel by Roth Mandy M

Author:Roth, Mandy M.
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Raven Happy Hour, LLC
Published: 2015-11-29T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Six

Kennard woke in the tiny bed and breakfast, covered in sweat, his muscles aching from the fight he’d surely fought. His hand was even outstretched, but why? The realization that he’d been reaching for someone or something in his sleep made him pause to reflect. What had he been dreaming about?

“Not what,” he whispered. “Who.”

He thought harder upon it, coming up blank. He knew deep down it was someone he wanted to help, not harm. Everything was fuzzy still, as if he’d drawn upon too much of his power in too short a time. He rolled to his side to sit up and hissed. His side burned as if he’d been wounded, but nothing was there marking as such.

‘Twas just a dream.

He groaned, wiping a hand over his face. Several of his braids were plastered to his skin from sweat. He peeled them back and drew in large gulps of muggy air. Scowling, he glanced at the cracked window. The damn town sweltered even at night. Bike Week meant the big hotels had been filled, thus taking with them modern amenities Kennard found himself liking more and more—air conditioning for one.

This B&B prided itself on giving an authentic lakeside experience. He was surprised they bothered with running water with as “rustic” as they appeared to be. He slid out of bed, unabashed in his naked form as he stood before the window, tossing it open wider. He was a Highlander from the past, a man to whom nudity meant little. Couple in that he was a shifter and it was a wonder he bothered with clothes at all. He often felt misplaced, as if he didn’t belong to the past any more than he did the present. Much had changed in the world around him over the centuries. He was truly a man out of time.

“What woke you so?”

He concentrated on his dream and why he now felt as if he’d single-handedly battled an army. His hand ran over his side, trying to ease an ache he had no idea how he’d gotten.

No. Nae an army, he thought, the fuzzy feeling giving way to a moment of clarity. Athol.

His dream state became clearer then. Maggie had been there. Athol had wanted her for some reason. Kennard remembered it then. Foreign power, separate from his or Athol’s, had consumed him as white-hot pain had raced through his side. But it hadn’t been the foreign power’s doing. That power had been on his side, trying to aid him. He knew that power. He’d sensed it before, in the cave where they’d all assumed they’d ended Athol. Though it was not assisting Athol this time. It had been doing something he couldn’t quite believe.

Trying to heal me, he thought, understanding dawning upon him. Athol had run him through with a cursed dagger in a plane of existence that could have killed him, yet Kennard had been ejected from the realm and the dream state, unharmed because of her.

Because of the lass. The lass he’d been about to fuck before Athol had come to kill him.

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